Smells like a rose.

July 3, Merrimac.

Ah, the fun of dumping black water tanks on the road.
The twice-monthly ritual of dumping the toilet tank is always a chore; this one started out badly, got worse, then landed safely. We left in search of a dumping place as soon as we arrived on the lot, and ended up driving all the way to the ocean, seven miles away in Salisbury Beach, to find it. Any further and we would have driven into the water. The place was the Salisbury Beach State Reservation, a public park, full for the holiday.
On the way we tried a wastewater treatment facility here in town ($25 and not even a hose to clean up,) and an RV park called The Beach Rose. This was a different kind of RV park: one that couldn't accommodate "big rigs," as the manager (owner?) told us, not even along the looping driveway to turn around and head out (we had to stop traffic to back up into the street.) Up until now our trailer had been considered a modest medium size at 29 feet; trailers must have been shrinking to make up for the gas hike, no doubt.
Attention ambitious campers: avoid The Beach Rose on highway 110 in Massachusetts.
Or was it because we had Oklahoma plates and spoke with an accent?