I never did find my keys, in case anyone is wondering. I had a few people ask me last week, all giving me that knowing look of fellow key losers. I have started trying to keep better track of things, but I fear it is one of those things that won't go far into the future. Old habits do die hard.

Instead of a one-track mind, I fear I have one of those old timey eight-track minds. There are several ‘tracks' with different tasks on each and I try to switch between them without pausing. I seem to try to think of several things at once, but I have to get through the first one to make it to the others.

Maybe I need to upgrade my thinking to a compact disc kind of thinking, but I'm not sure that I will be able to modernize for some time.

For now, I will just have to live with losing things, forgetting what I am doing and trying to do several things at once. That's why I lose things to start with.

This past weekend I took a camping trip to Buck Dam, which is near Ivanhoe, Va. It is a wonderful place, complete with scenic views of the New River, interesting places to fish, a state park with walking trails and twin hydroelectric dams built in the first part of the last century. The date on the first one is 1913. I have always been told that the electricity generated by the dams is subsequently sold in West Virginia.

I have never been able to figure that one out. Why not use the electricity locally?

Anyway, the fishing was lousy on Saturday. Out of our party of four, one nice bass was caught in six hours of fishing on the bank. I usually like to wade in the water when I fish, but it is hard to do that and watch your chicken cooking on the grill.

While the barbecue chicken didn't really turn out that well, it wasn't for a lack of trying. About halfway through the cooking process, the grill shut off and wouldn't light again. It turns out that it was devoid of the one thing a gas grill needs: Gas.

Sometimes you try to think of everything and still leave out one of the most important things.

So, here I was with half-cooked chicken and potatoes and no gas to finish them off. I tried Plan B. I started a fire, let it burn down some and then raked out coals for cooking.

I utilized a handy park cooking grate to lay the chicken and potatoes on, since I figured that fire kills almost everything in the germ family.

Everything was going fine until I sat back down for a few minutes and didn't notice that the chicken skin had started to drip and started a grease fire in the hot coals.

When I got back over to check on the chicken, it was charred on the outside and still bloody on the inside. Yummy.

By the time it was finally cooked and the fire was extinguished, the skin was reduced to a blackened mass. At least the potatoes were still good.

Of course I did forget to bring the butter.

It sounds like I didn't remember anything, but I had two coolers packed full of food and drinks, chairs, a grill, a retired school bus, sundry fishing equipment, bait, lanterns, fuel, a folding bed, at least a week's worth of clothes and numerous other items.

Sometimes it takes longer to pack up for a camping trip than it does to camp.

It was the ‘maiden voyage' of the new school bus, which seemed to perform well as a camping vehicle, despite a few problems. The main problem was trying to figure out where to put all the junk I carried along and how to keep the grill from making loud rattling noise on the dirt road to the camping area.

Every time I heard something rattle, I tried to strap it down or otherwise make it silent. Riding in an old school bus with a busted muffler that's already so loud that it is nearly impossible to hear anyone speak. Add in a rattling grill and clinking bottles and a shaky foldaway bed and you have a real headache chorus. That's something else I forgot, a big bottle of aspirin. I now have a jug of 500 extra strength pain relievers in a first aid kit on the dash. That's all that's in it.

The drive to the place involves about an hour on a road that is as winding and mountainous as any I've driven. At one time I wouldn't have even tried to take a bus down that mountain, but it was improved within the last few years. Even so, it is still winding and steep. Even before I got to the camping spot, I had already decided that the large gas grill would never again find its way inside any vehicle I was going to ride in. When it ran out of gas, I reinforced that decision. Especially disheartening was the loss of the grill's side burner, which was going to be used to heat up my coffee the following morning. As things worked out, I was able to use the fire's coals to get a reasonably lukewarm cup of joe.

By the time I got the bus unloaded Sunday evening, I was dead tired. A night in a worn-out fold up bed isn't exactly a vacation. I was wishing for those counting sheep more than once.

Add in the late night dirt road riders, with their jubilant yells of encouragement and honking horns, and you have a recipe for a sleeping disaster. Next time I think I will camp somewhere else and walk down to a fishing spot. I also think I will take less with me, but will plan what goes aboard more carefully. I do know that anything that goes on the bus from now on will have to remain silent or be tossed overboard.

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