Humour in the face of death, part 9

The other day my father mentioned, in a moment of lucidity between morphine-induced stupor, that he regrets he can't go camping any more ...

A couple of years ago my father pondered his growing lameness from polio - his knee had begun folding the other way - and decided that the solution was: NOT pack the tent way for the last time or travel in a little more comfort. No, they bought a work truck. Why? Since pitching a tent had become too difficult, they'd just sleep in the back of the truck. It h