Latter Day Sinner

My father loved to camp. In the seventies it was different. We’d go up a dirt road to what seemed like the middle of nowhere, clear the brush off a flat patch of forest, and pitch a tent. As the years went on he chose more accessable areas, and we brought more with us. The last time I went camping with him was in a state campground with little plots that you rent. He drove in a commercial pop up camper. We had a good time, but it just wasn’t the same.