I remember mine. I pulled up with the confidence of a man who had watched a three-minute video on the subject and therefore considered himself an expert. I had the gloves. I had the hose. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and the guy waiting behind me knew it within about 45 seconds. Here’s what nobody tells you: the dump station has its own culture. Its own unwritten code. Its own body language. It is, in many ways, the most honest place in all of RV life.
