It is Tuesday morning and we are sitting in the truck, in the parking lot of a repair shop waiting for news of our RV. The tow company who rescued us off the highway in the early hours of Sunday morning, and delivered us to a nearby motel – RV and all – moved the motor home to this shop yesterday, as per our insurance company’s instructions. The mechanic advised us early this morning that he thought all was a go, but when we arrived the same warning message came on as soon as we started up the engine. So, now we wait with fingers crossed as they “take another look.”
I didn’t sleep all night. It’s been over a week since we’ve been in our home on wheels, and in the meantime it has received body work and mechanical repairs, meaning that there has been a trail of dirty boots through. I go over what needs to be done as soon as we get it back: cleaning, groceries, and laundry. Ric and I ran out of clean clothes, so did go to the laundromat on Sunday, but I’d had laundry to do on board too.
Then just as I started to fall asleep, I felt something crawl across my neck. Reacting instantly, I grabbed at the culprit, capturing something with a hard, round shell. I flung it away from me, but then worried about what it was, turned the light on and searched the floor beside the bed, waking Ric up in the process. Bugs freak me out.
It was just after five a.m., so Ric decided to get up and go for breakfast. I hung back and leaving the light on did manage to fall asleep for a bit, until the call came to pick up the bus.
The motel we’ve been staying at is a budget accommodation set between two comparable facilities. There is a Burger King and a Denny’s and two gas stations, and that’s it. The closest town is ten miles away. The nearest city is an hour away. We are in a valley surrounded by mountains on all sides, and the commerce here seems to be oil-rigs and cattle, although judging by the number of closed up businesses in the town, the economy can’t be that good.
The highlight of the place has been the people. The tow truck driver from Saturday night has been messaging us about where we might get help. He took the liberty of calling around for us. Fellow travellers we met in the breakfast room have offered suggestions about where we might find good food, and even exchanged email addresses to keep in touch, and at the laundromat, everyone was friendly and helpful.
It’s hard to feel down on your luck when the reception is so warming.
The mechanic signals that all is good, and Ric settles up the bill, and we are on our way. I text the kids back home to let them know.
Hope everything is smooth sailing from here on out, our daughter-in-law messages.
All good, I respond; just part of the adventure.
Besides, the motor home breaking down was just incidental for me, compared to the encounter of a creepy crawler in the darkness of night.