{"id":9451,"date":"2025-06-21T06:28:13","date_gmt":"2025-06-21T13:28:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/?p=9451"},"modified":"2025-06-21T06:28:19","modified_gmt":"2025-06-21T13:28:19","slug":"the-dolphin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/meditations\/the-dolphin\/","title":{"rendered":"The Dolphin"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n

A 35-foot white RV named The Dolphin<\/em> rested in the parking lot of the Empire Boat Ramp as Elmer and I drove up for an afternoon walk on the bay beach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I surveyed the rig with my extensive expertise in all things RV when it came to the homeless living out of them. In fact, I might be the country’s leading authority on the subject.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Dolphin<\/em> began its journey in the late 80s or early 90s. It sported maroon, black and turquoise accents and of course, three goofy dolphins leaping out of the ocean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The driver side windows had no curtains and I saw possessions crammed to the ceiling, including slabs of wood one might use to fashion cutting boards or coffee tables. I counted two potted plants on the dash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Atop the rig, all manner of items were tied down: carpets, folding chairs and tables, a kayak, a kiddie pool and other inexplicable things. Two rusting mountain bikes were strapped to a carrier on the back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elmer and I parked and exited the car. I saw a purple-haired woman in her 60s outside The Dolphin<\/em>. She was yelling at a barking dog named Honeybee inside the rig.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The front hood of The Dolphin <\/em>was open and several engine parts littered the asphalt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elmer and I descended to the beach. The tide was rolling in with gusto. Assorted weirdos crabbed off the pier or vaped tobacco or weed or worse in their shitty sedans. A country music ballad played loudly in one of them. One woman sang along, pounded the steering wheel, and sobbed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw a woman down the beach carrying a big plastic bag. Great! A citizen picking up trash!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We met. She was in her 60s. I asked her if she was cleaning up the beach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No, searching for cans. The Dolphin<\/em> had run out gas and she was hoping to raise enough dough so they could keep on the move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I asked their destination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lakeview, inland, near the California border. She had just bought some property.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I fished out my wallet and gave her two bucks. It was all I had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She thanked me. I asked how the RV ran.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not well. She constantly had to repair it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The idea of The Dolphin<\/em> making it to Lakeview seemed as remote to me a single Republican in the US Senate start caring about poor Americans. It will probably end up like so many older RVs I’ve seen abandoned all across Oregon. They just stopped running for good and whoever was driving them perhaps lived on the side of the road for a spell and then one day walked away with whatever they could carry. A dog probably followed them or led the way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told her I was curious how people acquired the older RVs. (I actually want to write a book on this subject). She told me she bought it off Facebook Marketplace for $2000 from someone in Roseburg.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She thanked me again for the money and I wished her luck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back in the parking lot, I surveyed The Dolphin<\/em> again and offered a little silent prayer for its life to continue.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A 35-foot white RV named The Dolphin rested in the parking lot of the Empire Boat Ramp as Elmer and I drove up for an afternoon walk on the bay beach. I surveyed the rig with my extensive expertise in all things RV when it came to the homeless living out of them. In fact, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9452,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1264,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9451","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-coos-bay","category-meditations","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9451","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9451"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9451\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9454,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9451\/revisions\/9454"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9452"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9451"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9451"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9451"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}