Press Release North Trace RV Resort Opens for Business in Northern Indiana

[Neal]

Congrats Steve @Showalter

North Trace RV Resort Opens for Business in Northern Ind. - RVBusiness - Breaking RV Industry News

SYRACUSE, Ind. – A dream for upscale RVers Steve and Junelle Showalter is coming true with the completion and opening of Phase I of North Trace RV Resort, located near the northwest corner of Syracuse, in northern Indiana. The couple purchased the 47-acre property in December 2022, which has a...

rvbusiness.com

I look forward to your partnering up with RVForums.com and coming on board as a commercial member.

 

[GlampDaddy]

That article completely failed to mention that world-famous lawn mowing expert, GlampDaddy, was helping to keep appearances at resort-quality levels. Very happy to have a role in the project, other than just designing the logo.

 

[Neal]

That article completely failed to mention that world-famous lawn mowing expert, GlampDaddy, was helping to keep appearances at resort-quality levels. Very happy to have a role in the project, other than just designing the logo.

LOL - I'm sure you got @Showalter ordering AI autonomous lawn mowers like the high tech @Deer Springs RV Park uses? Help him get into the modern era!

 

[GlampDaddy]

Ha! What @Jim does works very well for him, especially the high tech. North Trace is seriously different, with two diesel Kubota zero turns and a diesel 4x4 John Deere for retention ponds, plus a gas zero turn as backup. The grass grows at an unprecedented rate in Indiana…never seen the likes of it before.
Now, about that logo

 

[Neal]

Looking good. Must be those pilot skills you demonstrated!

 

[NWIP]

Well I saw @GlampDaddy get off his mower and before he could blink @Showalter was on his way..
Reason @GlampDaddy got off mower he was giving a personal tour of the park, so he can do more than mow, design logos and drink bourbon
It’s a great park and we’ll be visiting

 

[Neal]

He loses focus easily. Steve needs to put a bottle of bourbon on the end of a 2x4 attached to the front of the mower and he’ll mow the entire zip code.

 

[GlampDaddy]

Looking good. Must be those pilot skills you demonstrated!

Speaking of…I went flying today with the honorable Mrs. Showalter, touring Nappanee, Syracuse and Goshen. That’s some REALLY flat farmland!

 

[team bradfield]

Welcome to the midwest, daughter went to university in SLC and swears she'll never look on flat land again, damn on my way to utah again!

 

[Neal]

Speaking of…I went flying today with the honorable Mrs. Showalter, touring Nappanee, Syracuse and Goshen. That’s some REALLY flat farmland!

I saw that. Congrats to her on getting her private pilot’s license.

 

[Jim]

That article completely failed to mention that world-famous lawn mowing expert, GlampDaddy, was helping to keep appearances at resort-quality levels. Very happy to have a role in the project, other than just designing the logo.

They say you can hear Glampdaddy before you see him.

Not the diesel engine of his polished Mountain Aire rolling over the hill, that comes second. First comes the faint roar of zero-turn blades carving perfect stripes across an unsuspecting RV park somewhere in Indiana. Then the smell of fresh-cut grass and imported bourbon drifts through the air like a county-fair legend come to life.

Nobody knows exactly where Glampdaddy came from. Some say he was born behind a campground bathhouse during a thunderstorm in 1958. Others claim he simply appeared one spring morning at a KOA near Terre Haute, mowing twelve acres before breakfast and disappearing before checkout time.

What is known is this: parks wait for him.

Owners whisper his name nervously when the grass gets too tall.
“Think he’ll come this year?”
“Depends,” another says quietly. “Moon phase. Turf moisture. Bourbon supply.”

Then one glorious afternoon, the Mountain Aire appears.

Children wave. Retirees emerge from fifth wheels carrying lawn chairs. Women swoon. Men stare respectfully at the impossible mower stripes stretching across the property like green velvet.

Glampdaddy steps out wearing mirrored sunglasses, spotless boots, and an expression suggesting he once beat a John Deere in a duel and never speaks of it.

By sunset, the grass is flawless. Campers applaud openly. Someone always offers him money.

He refuses.

“I mow for the people,” he says, accepting only a glass of eighteen-year bourbon and a quiet campsite with a mountain view.

Then, just before dawn, he vanishes into the mist toward the next desperate campground awaiting salvation.

And somewhere across Indiana . . . grass trembles in anticipation.