Sagabite

Mr Canada sent in another story about his RV problems before his trip even started:

———-

The house in Florida was sold, the house in Canada was purchased; all that remained was to drive the RV the 1000+ miles to our new home.  We had spent a week in a local RV park, finalizing paperwork and stocking up for the trip.

Although a mechanic had thoroughly checked out the 1985 Winnebago and pronounced her fit to make the long journey, we were going to stop in there for propane and one final go-over before having a few tires replaced on the other side of town.  The plan was to hit the road about noon, and spend the first night in Georgia, some 6 hours north.

We hit the RV mechanic’s early-they closed at noon- filled up the propane tank, and he gave us the green light to go.  The tire upgrade was going to take an hour or so, so we should be on I-95 by noon,  and stopped for the night before dark.

There was a restaurant within walking distance of where we were having the tires replaced, and we had arranged to meet a friend there for a good-bye breakfast.  I could see the RV through the window, and I noticed that no one had yet moved it into the bay.  I was not too worried; maybe they were just busy.  We finished breakfast and headed back over to find out how long this was going to take.

Come to find out, the battery was dead- it was not holding a charge.  As the battery was new, the conclusion was it must be the alternator.  So, we will need to drive back to the mechanic’s on a borrowed battery and have a new alternator installed.  No problem (actually I was quite happy it happened here rather than on the road), except that by now the repair shop is closed, and won’t open again until Monday.

It took the better part of Monday to get the alternator installed, and it was 5:00 or so by the time we gassed up the RV and pulled onto I-95.  We decided to drive until dark and then sleep and start out fresh the next morning.  Georgia was not going to happen on this first day, but at least we would get started.

We weren’t even to the first exit when something quite disturbing happened.  Anyone who has driven anything larger than a pick-up knows the importance of side mirrors.  At 70 miles per hour, less than 5 miles into the trip, the driver’s side window fell down.  Slowly.  One minute I had a perfect view of the traffic in the left hand lane, the next I was watching helplessly as the view changed from traffic, to pavement, then nothing.

Fatigue, frustration and inexperience had me doubting that I could even pull off this trip at all.  What the hell was I thinking?

Thankfully, having no other choice really, I re-gained my cool long enough to make it to the next exit.  A quick tightening with a hex key, and that mirror never budged for the rest of the trip.  At this point though, I was dreading the working out of an unknown number of kinks that might pop-up along the way.

Troy has sent in another story:

———-

We had been in the RV, driving from Florida to Canada, for nearly a month.  This October day drive would be from Cortland to Clayton, New York.  Less than two hundred more miles to go, and we will be home.  One more day-a few more hours, actually- and I will have a real roof over my head.  I will take my first real shower in over a month.  I was looking forward to this last US leg of the journey from Florida to Ontario.

It was rainy, mucky, and all-around nasty when we left Cortland, but the outlook was good- a bit of rain- that should clear up by 11:00.  It shouldn’t be too bad.  By now, I have hundreds of miles of experience driving this monster and I am feeling confident.

So we set off, north on I-81.  It is a straight shot through Syracuse, a turn west at Watertown to Port Vincent, then north to Clayton.

After about an hour, we had cleared Syracuse, and there are no more cities between here and home.  It is raining, but not pouring- we are cruising steadily north to the border.  I am a bit bitchy, but truly looking forward to my new life in a new place.

We are not talking much, but I say to my wife,” This rain sucks, huh?”
“Yes, honey.  But it is only a few more miles.”
Uh huh.

Fifty miles out of Watertown, it is well past 11 and the rain is still coming down.  I am probably making my wife a bit nuts with my constant complaining about weather reports and weather in general.
She is silent.

I am beginning to notice something disturbing about this rain.  It is starting to look a whole lot like snow.  “But this is October,“ I am thinking.  “I realize this is upstate New York, but snow in October?”

“Honey?” I say quietly to my wife. “Doesn’t this rain look almost like snow?”

She replies, “I hate to tell you this, but it has been snowing for the last 10 miles or so.”

“Oh,” I answer.

I’m still not too worried-it’s only flurries, after all.  And it’s not as if I have never driven in snow.  Of course, it has been a few years, and it was in a car rather than a 32-foot house-on wheels: but no worries.

This snow did not remain flurries for long, however.  Soon we were in the middle of an autumn blizzard and I can’t see the road.  Cars are off in the ditches on both sides of the interstate.  I am starting to panic.

“I’ll never find the exit!”  I say.  “ Great! Now the windshield wiper is frozen! Help!”

“I can see just fine,” my Canadian wife says calmly.

I look over, and sure enough, her wiper is working perfectly.

“I’m really happy for you, honey, but I can’t see squat, and I ’m the one driving!” I yelled. “Help!  I’ll never see the exit!”

(I have no idea what ‘help’ I might have been looking for-I guess some people call for ‘mom’ when stressed, and I call for a more generic “help!”)

Thankfully, it was only a few miles to our exit and the New York State Highway Patrol was at there, lights flashing.  A few miles after that, the skies cleared, the sun came out, and any trace of snow was gone.  And few things in my life have felt as good as that hot shower in the motel in Clayton.