The Orlando show is going very well, indeed.  Our previous experience with several shows in Orlando has been terrible, so we never really expected much, but it's early Sunday afternoon right now and it looks like this is our second-best show, just as good, if not better than Monroe.
    Something has happened to us over this summer.  Nine months ago, we were flea market salespeople.  We went to a cheesy wholesale place in Florida called Webster, a place patronized by flea market vendors.  There, we bought stock at $200 or $300 a visit and stocked our whole little shop with cheap Chinese imports.
    We didn't make much money.  We tried;  we worked hard; we just couldn't really make any kind of killing, just a few hundred dollars to pay for another visit to Webster.  We were, in plain words, running a Cousin Eddie operation with Cousin Eddie profits.
    This summer, though, as we talked to other vendors and traveled all over the country, things changed.  We started picking up different kinds of stock, some of it rather expensive, several pieces that we have to sell for over a hundred dollars.
    We don't look like the other vendors anymore.  Our little business now has become something quite special--we have CLASS.  Things look right; and the stock is getting better everyday.  We make more money than before; we're getting invited to other cat shows--important ones.  We just got a contract for what could be the biggest show of the year, this November in Houston.  It will cost us five times what we usually pay for a table--considering its proximity to Christmas, it is not unrealistic to hope for a $2,000 show.
    For us, that means a chance to balance the budget, to get back on our feet--not to be rich, but to get back to where we were, financially, before I retired.  This dream might not come true yet, but for the first time in too many months, I feel a sense of hope.
    When we sat down to plan our summer trip, I didn't expect to make it big.  I figured we would average $300 a show each weekend, and that would be enough to get us from show to show.  I didn't dare hope that we'd do much better.  I feared that we wouldn't make the average.  Then, when we had the blown tires that set us back after all we had done to get to Oklahoma City, I began to fear we'd never make it through the summer, that we'd have to go home failures, dead broke.
    But it didn't happen.  We survived disaster after disaster.  We had $1,000 left, sitting in the bank, our final emergency fund, and somehow, we didn't have to use it.  We fixed the car again and again, and got ourselves to the next cat show again and again.
    And last Thursday, I finally adjusted the alternator belt to the right tension so the camper doesn't squeak anymore.
    Oh, there are still many things to fix:  brakes, air conditioner, transmission, generator; but you know what?  Rocinante is ours.  All ours.  We don't owe a cent to anyone on that camper, and the things that need repair, will eventually be repaired.
    And we'll still break down now and then, just as some shows will be very successful and others will just plain suck, but HOPE is that new feeling that isn't going to fade away.  I guess that makes our trip something other than an adventure, it's been an odyssey of self understanding, a discovery of pride.
    A few weeks ago, as we drove from Las Vegas to Salt Lake City, the highway crossed the northwestern corner of Arizona.  It was a strange road.  The highway seemed to be going right into a wall of rock.  The closer we got to the rock, the more like a wall it seemed.  Finally, as the illusion began to actually make me nervous, I saw that the highway ran right through a massive, beautiful canyon, with high walls of sandstone on both sides which even blocked out the sun for awhile.
    Maybe now and then there may be a rock in our path, but the road goes on, and we will be on the highway of hope for a long time.
 

    The Cousin Eddie stories will continue on these pages.  As more adventures take place, they will be shared here.  Periodically, udates will appear.  Until that time, Cousin Eddie is signing off, and feeling about as Uncousin Eddieish as he can be.  Thank you for traveling along.

CHAPTER TWENTY                                                                                                         WFS