For a while there I didn’t think I’d survive it, but I did.

The above statement is pure hyperbole, of course. I was never worried about survival, only about exertion and inconvenience, in the way of old men. In actual fact, the weekend went just fine.

A friend drove me to a rental place on Friday, to pick up a car. I got a Buick Enclave, which served me impeccably. This was the first time I’d ever driven a car with those new touch screen controls, and I was a little uneasy about it. But I worked it out all right. (Still prefer buttons and knobs, though.)

What surprised me about the car was that the shifter was located on the steering column. I haven’t driven a car with “three on the tree” (D, N, and R in this case) for many years. I find this configuration an odd choice for an SUV. Don’t we buy those things in order to at least pretend we’re powering across the tundra, up mountains,  and through swamps in something like a classic Jeep? The steering column shifter lets that fantasy dribble away completely.

Anyway, I got up at 5:30 a.m. the next morning, so I could be at the set-up point by 8:00 a.m. My awning was already in place there, ever since last weekend, but the stall needed setting up, and books needed to be set on tables. The weather was chilly, more appropriate for the time of year than the unseasonable heat of the weekend previous.

Both days went fine. Saturday was sunny, and the shade under my awning crept steadily back until I was sitting in a corner. Good sales, mostly of Viking Legacy. I sold that out completely on Saturday. Sunday was cloudy, but not as rainy as we feared.

My book sales were a surprise to me. The ambience of Viking Fest Minnesota was (and businesswise this was brilliant, I think) historic Viking side by side with Renaissance Faire cosplay. The central camp was kept historically pristine, so that I, with my paperback books, had to operate outside in the vendors’ area, next to a woman who sold cute sculptures of mushrooms. But I was just at the entrance to the Authentic Camp, thus occupying a kind of intermediate state, like Plato in Dante’s Limbo.

One would think that this would be the perfect place to sell historical fantasy novels. And yet, sales of those were only so-so. What people wanted was the hard history of Viking Legacy.

I must ponder this mystery.

In any case, my old bones made it through two days of the festival, and I got home safe and sound, and with a little money in my pocket. Special thanks to the young men of the Viking Age Club & Society, Sons of Norway, for toting that barge, lifting that bale, and taking the load off me in general.

Next job – figure out what to do about my car.

My apologies to anyone who may – possibly – have come to Viking Fest Minnesota in Farmington on Sunday, and found me not among those present. It was due to what television announcers, when I was young, used to call “circumstances beyond our control.”

I drove down to the Dakota County fairgrounds on Saturday morning, without incident. I babied Sigrid the Haughty, my Subaru Forester, as planned, and she did not overheat. My confidence in her grew – I felt I could probably continue driving her lightly until I get a different car – as long as it’s soon.

The day went fine. The festival is set up in two sections – there’s the central area for the hard-core reenactors, so that visitors can get some idea of an authentic, period Viking camp. Few or no modern objects on view.

Around that is the periphery, where I was posted. Mostly vendors. A lot of people from the Renaissance Fest. Crafts, mystical crystals, knickknacks. I was there, with my tables of books. I had a friend manning the booth with me, selling a few of our club’s white elephants. We chatted pleasantly. Many people came by, and a fair number of them bought books. I saw a couple visiting friends. The weather was unseasonably warm – almost 90 degrees Fahrenheit. And the wind was annoying – not as bad as Minot had been, but several times we had to set things aright after they’d been knocked over.

When it was over, at 6:00 p.m., we moved my books and gear into a friend’s tent for the night. My plan was to go home to sleep, and return the following morning.

As I headed for the parking lot, I was stopped by someone (I won’t identify them, or even their sex) whom I didn’t know personally, but who knew who I was. Facebook friend. They greeted me and told me they were on my side. They were aware of some trouble I’ve had with a different Viking event – something I haven’t written about here, and still won’t for the time being. They said  they didn’t entirely agree with my opinions, but they supported my right to express them. I told them this was very gratifying, which it was. I left with a warm glow.

That glow faded as the engine temperature in my car spiked, just a couple miles outside of town. I ended up calling AAA for a tow home. I called one of the Vikings to tell him I wouldn’t be able to be there on Sunday. I no longer trust Sigrid the Haughty to get me places.

It’s not practical to replace a head gasket on an old Forester with turbo. So I’ll be getting a different car. Just as soon as I can move some money around.

If I can get it in time, I plan to be at the festival next weekend. If not, so be it.

Oh yes – it rained yesterday and some of my books got wet. Not the fault of the guy whose tent was sheltering them – these are the chances you take when you camp out. Or when your books camp out. Books are essentially indoor pets.

I’m not griping. I have my health (mostly). I am alive, and free, and not living on the street. This too shall pass.