I started this near the end of my stay at Dauphin Island and just finished! Don’t want to forget my

lovely veteran washing machines. 

Tango and I took one of our long beach walks that loops around past Fort Gaines on the return leg. Back in the campground, we passed the washer and dryers, which are in a covered alcove outside the shower house. Housed there: 3 dryers and 1.5 washers. I call one a  .5 washer because it fills only half way and takes a half load.

Before I write more, I will say that I admire and respect these ancient appliances, which is why I am memorializing them. At first sight, I assumed the rusted, dented, and lopsided machines that sat outside in the Alabama humidity were non-functioning. One washer looks like it sat in a battlefield during a fierce skirmish and even has what looks like a bullet hole. That is the washer that fills all the way, so I put my towels and linens in there and a small clothes load in the other. One of the dryers sounds like an ancient truck chugging down a country lane. It rattles and wobbles for an hour with each load. You can hear the dryer half-way across the campground, which is a great benefit to people camped in those sections because they know when the dryer is finished. A quiet calm returns. Birds start singing again. Until the next load.

The 1.5 washers and 3 dryers run all day, every day. I don’t even try to squeeze in a load until supper time, when the other campers are eating! When I slide 4 quarters into the chute and fling in a soap pod, they do their job. This defies logic and mechanical laws. These veterans of the wash should have pooped out years ago and be resting now in an appliance graveyard.

I have grown fond of the old metal hunks. When Tango and I walk we look to the shower house, and I smile at the machines in greeting, as though I am passing by one of the other campers. I also watch the construction of a new shower building next door. I hear it will offer shiny new machines. I am sure that will be lovely, but if I stayed here longer I would miss my old rusty friends.

The washers and dryers became a symbol for me while I continued the transition to retirement. I look a bit battle-worn myself. I do not have bullet holes but I have more that a few life scars. I, too,keep chugging day after day, all day. I don’t rattle- yet- but I do have some aches and pains that I can wiggle out with some stretching.

In the meantime, I keep rolling, like the rusty old Bama washers and dryers.

This guy makes my point perfectly!