We were traveling in a caravan of six vehicles and our camper, nicknamed 'Travels With Tee-pee', was bringing up the rear. We weren't able to keep up with the speeds of the group for the most part but it wasn't a problem. We all knew where we were going, we all had the map, and slow and steady wins the race...right? From our San Francisco Bay Area start, we traveled south until we started to head east toward Arizona. It was a bit of a tricky turn off but we made it, and we assumed that the others had made it as well. When we turned off the main highway and started to take a state road the road was awful! Sylvia and I looked at each other and said in unison, "This road is really bad. Jinx! You owe me a brownish colored cola flavored carbonated beverage (I'm waiting to see who wants to sponsor this blog and then I will insert an actual name here)" We continued on the road for about thirty miles. I looked at the big rigs traveling alongside. They seemed to be bouncing as much as we were. The kids were having fun talking with vibrating voices. Our bottoms were being massaged. And I was wondering if the milk in the refrigerator of the trailer had turned into a block of butter yet.
We traveled on this road/goat trail for a number of miles and then we connected with the highway that would take us all the way to Arizona. The trouble was, this new larger highway was just as bad as the state road. Hmmm, curious. I would like to have said, "Hey. If all of these bumps are happening on every road we travel...is it possible it isn't the road at all?" I would like to have said that, but I didn't.
This is where I am reminded of a time in high school when I smelled something bad. Not to be indelicate, it smelled like poop. I checked my shoes, (cautiously) I looked around, (secretively) and I could not find the source of the stink. Man someone in here is stinky! Then I went to my next class, and the next class...same smell. I looked to the side and as nonchalantly as I could (because everyone in the room was watching me at all times waiting for me to mess up and then announce it to the class so I would be embarrassed...or maybe I was just being an adolescent) I bowed my head, raised my shoulder, and sniffed my shirt. BINGO! I was wearing a shit-shirt! (apologies) Unbeknownst to me, my mom switched laundry detergents and this new detergent had a chemical reaction with the fibers in this shirt to make it the opposite of spring fresh. Add to that my overabundance of teenage awkwardness and I had a horrible rest of the day. But I digress...
The point is, if it smells in every new place you go you should smell your shirt. And if every road you are traveling on feels as bumpy as the last...you should check your vehicle. We were out of walkie talkie range. We were traveling slower than even we should have due to the shaking. Sylvia got on the phone and called Mark, the leader of our group, to tell him that we were going to have to stop and get the truck checked out since we were having a problem. The conversation went something like:
"Mark, we have a problem and we need to stop."
"What's up?"
"Our truck is really shaking and we aren't sure why. You guys just go on ahead and we'll catch up later."
"Well we made a wrong turn and lost everyone else...where are you?"
"We are at mile marker 264."
"We are at mile marker 262. We'll catch up to you in about a minute."
At this time I would like to express my sincere gratitude to God for watching over us and showing that even wrong turns can turn out to be blessings.
When they caught up to us they came alongside the truck and said that the back tires were bouncing up and down on the road...even with an eleven thousand pound trailer pushing down on the bed of the truck. This was bad. We pulled over and I tried to find a truck repair/tire store/miracle worker on my smart phone. The closest was about fifteen miles away down a two lane road, complete with construction. When we got close, we called and got to hear a grumpy (possibly intoxicated) gentleman announce that he would put two used tires on our truck for a hundred dollars apiece. As appealing as that was, ahem, we decided to look further and found a Walmart tire center like a gleaming city on a hill. We limped, and prayed, and coaxed, and prayed, and babied, and prayed the truck into the back of the tire center and went inside.
At the counter, it looked like the ticket counter at the airport in Casablanca after they announced that evacuations were necessary. It was crowded, it was hot and sweaty, and people looked depressed and hopeless. The only things missing were camels and stale cigarette smoke. With all of these people in front of us, and only one of the two people working able to use the computer at a time, I felt my own hope slipping away...and along for the trip, riding piggy-back, was my ability for rational thought.
It all seemed to come to me at once, in the crowded line at the tire center in the Barstow Walmart. This could have been bad! We could have blown a tire...or two! There could have been an accident! I am driving Dad's truck and there is another problem! We could have been alone! The problem might not just be the tires! This is day one of a week long trip! My new credit card hasn't come and this one has a crack in it. What if it won't go through the machine? What if the last payment didn't make it yet and "declined" is the only thing that comes to the screen? I have to call my dad and tell him that once again, while my hands were on the steering wheel, there was another problem with the truck! The people in charge of our mission trip group are now held back with us instead of leading everyone to the first stop! All of these thoughts were bouncing around in my head when I heard the clerk tell someone about five people ahead of me that she would write up the work order but she couldn't guarantee that it would be done today. ***snap***
After that everyone started sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher from the Peanuts cartoon. "Waaaa waa waaa wa. Waaa wa wa waaaa wa." Mark and Rich propped me up emotionally as Aly and Beth were outside with Sylvia, the kids, and Fudge the wonder dog. We slowly, and I do mean slowly, got to the front of the line and I ordered two new tires for the back of the truck that I had already unhitched from the trailer. And she said to me...at about five o'clock..."I'll write it up but I can't guarantee that it will get done today." Always trying to make people laugh I teased, "But we are doing God's work!" She laughed and told me that she would see what she could do. I, crossing my fingers, paid for the tires, signed the paperwork, and went out to join the rest of the people who just happened to be waiting in 110 degree heat.
I tried to tell them that the worst was over and they should just go on ahead and we would be fine. I tried to reason that if they didn't get the tires done, we could at least stay in the trailer and start out tomorrow morning after they were done. They wouldn't hear of it. And we all sat, for three hours, in the hot summer Barstow sun, while car after car got worked on. I was happy to be on the other side of most of the stress and I didn't want to deal with any more when Rich said, "Let's go check and see how much longer." When we went in, the tire guys had pulled two giant truck tires that looked like something you would put on a tractor if you were planning to get stuck up to your tailpipe in mud! He said, "Ummm, those aren't the tires for the red truck are they?" He looked at the invoice and said, "These are the ones you paid for."
Back to Casablanca...where we found out that the saleslady, direct from housewares, pharmacy, or perhaps the young miss section, had written up the right size but a completely different tire. Back to the drawing board...and the possibility that they do not have my size tires. What's that teacher? Waaa wa wa waaa wa. Waaaaaa waa waaa waaaaaa.
In checking on their progress, Rich went and talked to the (we'll call them methodical) workers and they showed him the old tires. Apparently the tread had completely separated from the tire itself and was only being held on by a couple of miracles. It could have been much, much worse than it was.
At a little after the time that they closed the tire center, they allowed me to drive it out of the shop. Two new tires on the truck and about six hours behind everyone else in the group we set out again.
I have a new appreciation for friends who stay and help when rational arguments can be made for leaving. I seriously think our trip would not have gone as smoothly as it did after that, if we had been on our own. With everything seeming to go wrong and all of the frustration I felt at the tire center in Casablanca, I am not sure I would have made it without someone else coming alongside and lending a hand. And that, Ms. DeGuzman, is why I stopped getting ready for my own students arrival and helped get your twenty two cartons of curriculum out of chaos and into your classroom. For me, it was ten minutes. For you, it may have pulled you back from the edge.
It's gonna be a great year...but I still owe my dad a dollar.
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