Winter Vacation

This winter vacation we spent 2 weeks in a motor home, the same motor home in which we lived for 8 months. We learned that actually traveling in a motor home is way different than living in a parked one. I learned that I don't ever want to travel that far in a motor home again. I learned how much I appreciate a quick flight that transports me somewhere. I learned that I am and will always be a "hotel girl". That's right. I enjoy the comforts of a beautifully made bed with white linens, and a well appointed bathroom.

We had a great trip, don't get me wrong. We visited hubby's family, which was our goal, and we enjoyed every moment of time spent with them. On our way to California, we stopped in southern Oregon for meals and fun with dear friends. We also saw our grandkids on both ends of our trip, along with getting to share food and fellowship with dear friends on our way home. All of this was good, very good. But I am still left wondering why people think spending their "golden years" traveling in one of these things is...well, golden?

Let me just say that this voyage was challenged from the beginning, when we pulled out of our driveway at 6:00 in the evening to avoid the Friday night traffic in Portland, and realized that we had no headlights. Hubby pulled into a church 2 blocks from home to assess the situation. Knowing that I had packed every scrap of food and clothing we owned, I was determined to sleep in that parking lot for the night. But he quickly discovered that our high beams worked, and with the help of a little electricians tape, we were back in business.

One would imagine that this "setback" would deter us. Oh no. We ventured on. After leaving southern Oregon, we headed west to take the coastal route to California. Through flooding. I mean, torrential flooding on both sides of the road. Rivers washing over the highway from waterfalls plummeting down from the hillsides. Over the coastal hills we went, noticing that as we ascended over them the engine was beginning to sort of sputter and lose power. Uh oh. What could this be? Hubby determined it was either fluid in the gas, bad fuel, or a dirty filter. He stopped for some additive, and the problem immediately improved. Yay! Nothing can stop us now!

Traveling on the next day, through the beautiful northern California wine country, I mentioned an odor. Hubby smelled it too. I thought it smelled like rotten eggs. He said it smelled like coolant. He began watching the temperature gauge and it soon began moving toward the hot side. He immediately pulled over into the dirt beside a farm. After scooping coolant out of an outside compartment with gloved hands, and re-attaching the hose that must have jiggled off from driving over bumpy California highways, I filled up a couple gallon water jugs for him to re-hydrate the system and off we went. A quick stop at Walmart to get more coolant and we were (ahem) golden.

"Let's hear a little music" hubby says, trying to lighten the mood. It was a great idea, considering he had ordered a new stereo online and installed it, just for this trip. But while it worked fine at home, it didn't work now. At all. The CD wouldn't play. The radio skipped on and off. And...well let's just say it didn't lighten the mood.

You might be thinking "Wow, these poor people. Surely nothing else could possibly happen!!" because that is pretty much what I was thinking at this point. And it was smooth sailing for the next day or two, until we pulled into hubby's brother's house and hooked up to his electricity and water. Thankfully, shortly thereafter the bros went out to check on the RV and found it flooded...water was pouring out from underneath. The water pressure was way too strong, which blew the hose off the toilet, filling the bathroom and hallway. It was a sloshy mess, but could have been way worse if not discovered fairly quickly. The water pressure valve was found, and quickly installed, and the carpet dried in a couple of days. And a couple of margaritas later, I forgot all about it.

While preparing to leave brother-in-law's house, the moho wouldn't start. Our battery was dead. It had something to do with the engine battery not switching over to the house battery. Lots of internet searching led the guys to believe it was a faulty switching over switch thingy...which was purchased, and the battery charged...and we were down the road to spend a couple of days camping on the beach in Carlsbad. All went well there, for the most part, though hubby spent one whole morning installing the new switch and found that it must not have been the source of the dead battery problem after all. Getting to watch whales migrating down the coast made up for the wasted morning though, and hubby wasn't even annoyed. I was amazed.

The trip back to Washington went smoothly. Well, except for the Pismo Beach experience, where we were camped next to the biggest campground New Year's Eve party in the history of campground New Year's Eve parties, and tortured by booming "ghetto rap" (as requested by the blond 40'ish neighbor women who were hosting the event) until almost 3 AM (evidently they don't enforce the 10:00 curfew on NYE and why didn't we know that? and why didn't they tell us that the guy who vacated the space earlier that day did so because of these already super loud partying neighbors? but oh well we moved to another site the following day...)

The return trip went smoothly until...well, until we got home and hubby had to park around the corner till he could move our 3 other vehicles out of the way, and as he was driving the moho around the corner trying to swing wide to make the driveway, he was a bit too close to the curb, which had a manhole cover sticking out about 5 inches, and he hit the back tire on the sharp concrete corner. He didn't know it until he parked and heard a hissing sound. Yes, the back tire was slashed and losing air fast. So he jacked up that side, which raised the moho up just enough so that when he opened the door it hit the underside of the eave of the house, putting a big dent into the siding.

May I conclude this vacation saga by saying with much love, adoration, and admiration, that my husband was incredible through it all. He calmly dealt with everything that was thrown at him and never allowed it to dampen his mood or ruin our trip. I think the slashed tire might have been my last straw...but not him. His only comment was "Well, that was a $400 error..."

I know this was long, but I felt it had to be shared, because it is such a testimony of perseverance, as well as having peace in the midst of life's storms, and joy in trials...a story of how love grows even stronger in the face of adversity. And these are all beautiful things. But still...I'll take a jet and a nice hotel room next time. Cheers!