The Trip That Lasted a Year - Six Days In July

Sunday, July 1

The time has come to prepare for departure. I was putting my tray table in the upright and locked position. All of them. We were driving the RV to dad's place in a couple days, with the horses in tow, and would come back for a couple weeks until it was time for J's vacation days to start. We had a friend from Seattle flying down to help drive on the big trip, since I also had a third vehicle, a 1994 pearl Cadillac sedan (at this time it was parked in front of my friend Lindsey's house to try to sell it, but to no avail). J had the truck in Tucson, and was bringing it here during his days off this week, so I had his car. A forest-green, well-loved and worn 1996 Saturn which we've had since one month before we were married. Much like J and myself, it only had a few miles on it when we met.

Well, evidently the mongrels had chased a rodent, rabbit, perhaps a neighborhood child - underneath the car, the telltale signs being the excavation of large amounts of dirt from anywhere they could reach. My guess was they hadn't nailed their quarry yet, since they were laying there, exhausted from their savagery, eyes fixed in case there was a break in the case. Surrounding the car were bits and pieces of black plastic, some recognizable as car parts, others too shredded to identify. How long do you think it took me to yell, scream, and otherwise welcome those little bastards to leave my area of operation? Yeah, about five seconds. As I gathered broken bits, and looked underneath, it appears... are you seated? ... that they had chewed off the underside of the front bumper (shredded pieces) and gotten ahold, somehow, of the wheelwell and pulled it off... no I am not exaggerating. the whole thing. The undercarriage of that car looked like we ran over acres of cactus. I got in to start the car. VROOM! at least there was that. Sheesus.

Laundry and other chores need to be done. In the course of my going back and forth between the RV and the outhouse, I noticed wires hanging down from the front of the RV, under the... motor? what was this? Ahhh, yes. I'm putting it all together now. The hunt for the poor creature began at the RV and only ended under the car. I see. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THESE WIRES? I tried to start up the coach. ....................................................... nothing. Shit. Those little bastards. I tried to put some of them back together, to no avail. How am I supposed to make it to Southern Washington like this? I call dad, and ask him to up his travel days


Monday, July 2

In preparation for the trip, the horses' trailer has a special adaption for a water tank, that I just needed to locate and buy. I found a supplier, about an hour from here (ain't this place a damn geographical oddity? an hour from everywhere) and so left mid-morning to fetch one. The AC was working this morning, which was a great thing, it was supposed to be over a hundred today, and Cat is too old for this baking heat.

Upon arriving home, I walk into the RV, and notice how blasted hot it is. Damn! AC went out again! and started playing with the dials... is that smoke I smell? who the hell would be burning anything in the middle of summer around here? There were already fires burning throughout the state... but a sinking feeling began to prevail. I walked back outside. That smoke is closer than close. I lean down, and look under the RV... a small blaze is happily flicking flames from a piece of plywood I had put down under the rig to lay on while trying to fix the wires yesterday, just to keep the ants, and goathead stickers, and other assorted gravel from making my already wretched experience here intolerable.

Startling to me, I rushed without thinking to the nearby hose and sprayed the flames out. Upon further investigation, the following had happened: the 30-amp electric cord had somehow shorted and gotten hot, tripping NEITHER the breakers in the rig, NOR the breakers at the outlet on the outhouse building, but just sat there, heating up until the plywood caught on fire. Then, the plywood happened to burn in such a particular pattern, that it arrived at the water supply hose hooked up to my onboard system, and burned a hole in the hose. A tiny spray acted like a soaker hose, gently spritzing the flames, keeping them at bay until I got home, keeping them from engulfing everything I own, not to mention the one cat I had left... and with the wind that day being about 15 mph, with that horrendous heat - I would have burned down the rest of Arizona.

Dad was due to arrive in the next few hours. Fully clothed, I went right into the outhouse, right into the shower, and turned it on. It was 115 that day, and I had nothing else to do but wilt, and drink the beer in my frig that was quickly getting warm... the beer gods were pleased. Dads are so good for so many things. Especially with gadgets and testers and motors. Well, my dad in particular. We discovered that a rodent, probably one the dogs chased, chewed through the wire connecting the battery to the solenoid. To us lay people, that means motor-no-cranky. He fixed that wire, and VROOM! we have liftoff! Woohoo!

J arrives, and we spend dinner going over the events of the last couple of rotten-ass days, before sleeping outside on haystacks under the stars.


Tuesday, July 3

We have breakfast, and spend time preparing the breakables and horses for travel to dad's place, a mere 3 hours to the west. We pull up the water connections, load up the horse belongings, - egads, now the stair to the RV won't retract... to hell with it. Dad (remember what I told you?) got out his tool kit and just took the thing off. One thing after another, it's finally noon and about 110 degrees, but finally get to cranking the rig up so we can get outta this hellhole. It starts, but won't stay running. Engine is just cold. Try again, dad says, and keep your foot on the gas. I do, a few times, then say, someone else do it. I'm not doing something right. Dad tries it. In that manly way, a way learned by men, mostly midwestern men (of which he is one) who have big, thick, calloused hands and by gum, make things work for them. He gets the rig backed up, and turned toward the driveway that leads out of the property, but it won't stay running. Dammit.

More investigation. It ran just fine yesterday! But wait, here... at the distributor cap... rodents had chewed through three of the four spark plug wires, overnight. Back to town to get parts. It took five hours to get all the damaged parts replaced and other things fixed, and load up the horses. OK, start the thing again, and let's get the hell outta here! J started down the driveway, and turned on the dirt road, but alas. it still won't stay running. For all of dad's efforts to unstick the carburetor, the motor is too junked up, from heat sucking on all the fluids til the gum that is left just messes everything all up. I call J, wait before getting on the main road, I say, we aren't making it!!

We get off the property, but the rig finally dies for good on the dirt road. Shit. Well, we are gonna tow this heap to the side of the road at least, a little spot where it can give up the ghost and get donated to the Kidney Foundation. Yeah. Tow it. With dad's SUV. It's a Toyota, so we know it has the power... and it does... we rope that thing up good, stick the RV in neutral, and begin towing it, dad going forward toward a clearing, and the RV going backward, steered by Yours Truly. Ok, we are just about there. Step on the brakes, dad yells out the window. I step on the brakes. .................. nothing. Nothing is slowing down. Dad! I'm yelling, I can't stop! The clearing is on a slight decline, the RV at the top, and dad's SUV downhill... Don't stop!! I yell, Keep going! But it doesn't matter, by that time I began to hear the sound, the icky sound of the spare tire cover crunching through the glass of dad's back windshield. Shit.

Ok, more time spent gathering items, what little we could handle in the SUV with a dented back door, and get on the road. It is 9 pm. We drove like zombies, in slow motion, exhausted from the day, sleeping and/or hallucinating over our 2-way radios, until a miracle happened, and we made it to dad's place. Out with the horses! Lemme outta this truck! Why is it 1 am?


Wednesday, July 4

A brief respite. J and I drive back to Phoenix midday, and stayed with friends for a July 4 party. We surely did imbibe that evening, and saw stars. It may have had something to do with fireworks, maybe not...


Thursday, July 5

Back to the coach! after being there two nights, it had already been ransacked. My mini-frig was gone. Spent five hours packing whatever would fit into the truck, and had to trash the rest. Ended up with mostly clothes, a few tiny furniture items, my mattress and bedding, kitchen stuff, most of my artwork, my CDs and movies. Dammit. So much of my stuff left behind. But, we still need to get the car, to drive back to Tucson. It was over 100 outside, but felt like 200 in the cab, so we just left the doors open and let Cat do as she pleased. She mostly layed in the dirt in the shade. J goes to get the car, and is bringing it off the property... that damned property... but he is throwing some kind of fit. What's that? He began to drive it down the incline of the driveway toward the dirt road, but had trouble stopping. We checked underneath, and found the brakeline had been one of the unseen casualties from the mongrel savagery. Ok, gotta get to Tucson for J's work tomorrow, and no brakes. And oh- an ignition wire was damaged, allowing the car to start, but acting as though the key were in the ignition. Always after, and forevermore, we would open the door, the car dinging away to remind us of that fateful time.

So we limped back to Tucson, J using the e-brake masterfully in the few lights and two hours that stood between. Ran into the first monsoon of the season that afternoon, on I-10, walls of dust and rain brought by fierce winds threatened to blow the mattress off my truck, and the few belongings I had left underneath. I stopped four times to tighten it down, and spent the last 10 miles of blustery interstate doing about 40 mph. But we made it.


Friday, July 6

A regular day, seemingly to everyone, but boy it was good to be back in civilization again! People, and internet, and parks... I love Tucson. The mountains there are so beautiful, and with all the palm trees around, one may mistake a mild day here for one on Hawaii. Just maybe. Running around with J looking for a new apartment to transfer to, he began working where he lived as a leasing agent in that office, but didn't like living onsite. Don't blame him. I think he's found it, going in to sign papers while I take this call from my brother. My normally close-as-can-be brother. He sounded drunk, but he was at work. And as soon as I told him I was going to WA he freaked out on me. Why don't I take care of mom? We've been over this. What am I doing still hanging around my ex? Because he's helping me get to WA, and besides we're friends. All of a sudden whirring words came out of his mouth, nonsense stuff that sounded like someone was feeding him a line of shit, and he must have just asked for more... What? What do you mean I'm living off dad? I'm getting unemployment. No, he didn't buy my truck, I've been making good money these last couple years. No, no, no... I'm not moving to Sacramento, I told you that. Go to hell, he tells me, I don't have time for this shit anymore. He hangs up on me. I cried for three hours. I left messages on his phone and email. He did eventually call me, a lifetime later, but as the world turns two weeks (we'll get to that, my honeys) but I couldn't make myself take the call. When I listened to his voicemail, it was more of the same, except now I could rot in hell, and take dad with me. Silly boy, you know dad. He'll just use his tools to get out.

And he still has not called to this day. Coming up on the 2-year anniversary. I love you, bro - you were my big little brother, an inspiration and a caretaker at times. I'm sorry your sense of justice wiped out your other senses, namely the Common kind. Get well soon, I will miss you.