No Thanks(giving), I’m Driving

Today is the day we head to Massachusetts for the holiday to see our relatives! The day begins at 6 am. Originally, we had planned to leave yesterday, but were delayed due to mom’s bashed-in head. That’s another story waiting to be told. Stay tuned.

I start up the motorhome and we are rife with anticipation! Umm, what? No power in the ‘home’ portion of our ride. I called my much more mechanical half to ask whatever could be wrong? He is on his way to Charleston, SC to spend Thanksgiving with his daughters, but he turns around to come back and help us, driving over two hours to fix the problem.

At 12:30, we are on our way! We stop to get propane on the way out of town. The man dispensing said propane has to be a member of the Bradypus Tridactylus family. I can honestly say I’ve never seen an able-bodied person move slower in my entire life. If you know how much patience I possess, you know this is excruciating to experience. In hindsight, it is so insignificant, it’s laughable. Also, thank you, Google for making me sound so intellectual calling someone a sloth.

Okay, here we go! I attempt to connect my phone to the stereo. The Bluetooth connection won’t work. Life is over for me. Listen to FM radio? I’d rather have a root canal. This is a major issue, but I am optimistic that things will work out.

An hour later, I hear a beeping noise. It continues sporadically. Every time there is a beep, the radio turns off, then it beeps and turns back on. As the radio is jamming rubbish such as Journey, Foreigner, and Air Supply, the continual interruption isn’t exactly unwelcome. After five minutes or so, the radio stops working altogether, but the beeping continues.

Mom discovers the source-a control panel under the table that’s flashing red for carbon monoxide, propane, and I believe, nuclear reaction. Okay, now we are driving a bomb. I stop to assess the situation and reset the master switch. When all else fails, shut everything down and restart. In this instance, it works. All the warning signs abate, but we still have no radio. I turn on Pandora on my cell phone and listen through the phone speakers. We continue our journey, without Journey.

At the Chesapeake Bay Bridge toll booth, the attendant asks if I have turned off my propane. “Yes.” My automatic response to avoid whatever will come if I say, “I don’t know.” Great, the motorhome really is a deadly weapon.

No explosions occur, but I do inadvertently bludgeon a seagull with the sleeper cab of the motorhome. I watch as it’s lifeless body bounces off the cab and flings itself over the railing to its final goodbye. I really should know better than to keep going at this juncture.

An hour later, we stop to eat. I turn on a light in the back and nothing happens. The master switch is lit, which means the battery is working. No lights, which means no heat. We are headed to Massachusetts with nights in the 20’s and I am planning on staying in the motorhome with the dogs so that we might be invited back again someday. I have no desire to experience several three dog nights, especially since I only have two dogs.

How is the master switch on when the battery is dead? AAARRARARAGGHHH!!!!

We admit defeat. Let me amend; I admit defeat. I believe mom had succumbed a few obstacles previous, but until now, I have been determined to change our run of luck. Things can only get better, right? Mom, on the other hand, kept saying, ‘what else can possibly go wrong?’ Anyone who’s ever worked where something can go horribly wrong cringes when that phrase is uttered. It’s the kiss of disaster; actually, in this instance, it’s more like a messy open-mouth, drooling slobber.

We head home. Dejected, exhausted, vanquished.

We soon come to a dead standstill. Two lanes of parking lot with steep ditches and woods on each side. We are stuck. I try to make a phone call, but my phone says EMERGENCY CALLS ONLY. Funny, my mom’s works and she has a 1980’s flip phone and is ON MY DAMN PLAN.

Fast forward ONE HOUR AND FORTY-FIVE MINUTES. I crank up the vehicle and we continue. Mind you, it is now after 10 pm, which brings us to a total of 16 waking hours, most of those with me spent driving a semi-controllable, half-dead, death mobile.

Other than the swamp creature fog that enveloped us on our last 30 minutes of the trip, we do not encounter any other adversities. I can’t wait to plug the damn contraption in to shore power and leave the unpacking until tomorrow.

I connect to electric power and turn on a light inside so I can find what I need. No light. No power. It’s 12:30 am and now I have to empty the freezer and refrigerator. Sigh.

Okay, now I am done and ready to go up to bed. As I walk out of the house and climb the stairs to my abode, I hear Christmas music playing somewhere. I stop and listen to where the sound may be emanating from. Lo and behold, it’s a Thanksgiving miracle. The damn radio in the motorhome is cranking out tunes and there is a light on inside.

Aaaaand, cut. Okay, that’s a wrap.