Norma and I love to daydream together. "Wouldn't it be fun to have an RV and buy some land on a lake?" Norma once mused. "We could take the grandkids overnight." We talked about taking off with the family, and letting our kids use it on camping trips. We immersed ourselves in the possibilities.
So last year as I drove several hours from home to lead a seminar, I passed an RV park. I thought, Woohoo! RVs! I'm going to go look. I was intending only to browse. But there it was—a 1991 Holiday super colossal motor home. It looked brand new. The price was dirt cheap, it was remodeled inside, and, the salesman assured me, it had a new engine! I drove it. I loved it.
On the phone that night, I told Norma about the RV and we agreed again it would be great to own one. The next day, pumped after a successful seminar and fueled by our daydreams, I returned to the RV park and bought that 13-year-old RV. Norma's going to be so excited! I thought.
Barely able to contain myself, I called and told her I was coming home with a surprise.
"Gary, I hope you didn't buy that motor home."
Confident that Norma would succumb to the RV's charms once she saw it, I drove home, pulling into our driveway with a flourish. "Surprise!" I called as Norma came outside.
Her reaction wasn't what I'd hoped. Stepping inside, she wrinkled her nose. "It stinks in here! How old is this?"
"It's a 1991. But it's all brand new. Look—oak cabinets!"
"Who's going to take care of it? Where are you going to park it?" And then the killer blow: "Can you take it back?"