Biggie Moms gets a boo boo

 

An iconic California drive through the rolling golden hills dotted with oak trees lulls us into a relaxed and grateful state of mind, rolling along and enjoying the day.  As we approach Bethel Island we come upon a sign that says, “Two- lane road becomes one lane for trucks and trailers”... What??  As we curve to the right, there’s a bizarre angled approach to a narrow bridge where a huge semi-truck barrels towards us from the opposite direction. We stop. Focusing on when to make our move, our truck faces straight, but our trailer hasn’t finished with the tight right curve. We neglect to angle wide enough to the left. We hear a noise and feel a drag but the truck and trailer keep rolling forward. Eyes wide, Annette blurts out,  “What was that?” I look at the side view mirror and respond, “I think Biggie just scraped the bridge. I don’t see anything dragging or flapping, though.”

Big boo boo

Sick to our stomachs we muster the courage to stop and assess the damage. We assume that the damage happened towards the back of the trailer so we look there first.  A little scrape but not bad. We can’t believe it. As we turn back towards the truck, we see the real damage, a big scrape along the front quarter of the trailer below the pass through storage door, luckily, low enough to escape any damage to the storage door itself. The entry steps which are just behind the pass through, however, are a mangled mess, bent, crushed, and inoperable. Ugh! We injured Biggie Moms. 

Labeling our near death encounter with the bridge a rookie mistake, we decide to deal with our distress and move forward. We’re staying in an RV park in an area known as the Delta at the confluence of the San Joaquin River and the Sacramento River so we figure that getting our trailer serviced will be easy… maybe one of those mobile repair guys who come right to your campsite and do the work while you sip grapefruit seltzer water and make small talk. After a couple of phone calls that beautiful dream dies. One very nice woman says she could work us into the schedule in mid-July. So Annette gets online to try and find replacement steps while I start laundry catch-up--six loads (one of which is Shug’s). RV parks suffer from a reputation for crummy Wi-Fi and this park lives up to that standard. Finding and buying replacement steps online becomes an exercise in patience, but with persistence, two hours later after four false starts,  two credit card snafus, and several aborted connections the steps are in the mail.  

ouchie

Removing the mangled steps presents its own challenges. Since the steps will not fold down to access the bolts, Annette has to manipulate the wrench into tiny crevices and remove the bolts two ratchet clicks at a time. As I come back with the laundry I see Annette sitting in the grass deep in frustration, rubbing her bruised knuckles and taking deep breaths. Ironically, during the morning drive we had a conversation about how being frustrated is a normal human experience, the important thing being how we deal with it. How are we dealing with it?  Barely hanging on. 

A local heatwave adds to the overall tension. It’s 92 degrees and I’m in a small laundry room running the big dryers as sweat drips from my body. I finally finish the laundry and start cleaning the trailer. Meanwhile, Annette is on the sunny side of the trailer working on step removal. At some point I open the door and ask her if she could hand me the broom and she does. As she goes back to work on the steps I hear, “Now where is that wrench?” Two hours later, we give up; the wrench is gone never to be seen again. The stairs will have to wait until tomorrow. How are we doing? About to snap!

To preserve our sanity, we decide to change direction and finish other household tasks on our list.  Annette decides to do something easy like wash the throw rugs and walks off toward the laundry room.  I notice that she forgot the soap and I run after her. When I return, I find that Shug has let herself out via the toy hauler ramp and gone to visit the neighbor’s bull dogs—Otis and Dutch who are quite handsome, but not that friendly. I get Shug back inside and return to cleaning and notice a single quarter sitting on the counter just as Annette opens the door saying, “I’m one quarter short” grabs the quarter and trudges back to the laundry, heat waves dancing around her retreating form.

Exercise always makes us feel better, so we decide to do our workout and then take Shug for a walk around the campground. After about five minutes a mosquito attack turns us back from the walk and we return slapping at our necks and forearms as we go. Annette says to Shug, “Tomorrow is a new day Shug.”

Our final activity is a shower…I mean what could go wrong with a shower?  We head towards the shower, punch in the key code, and open the door to hear a loud alarm sound, buzzing relentlessly lasting through the entire shower. Annette says, “So much for the relaxing shower experience.”  How are we doing? Laughing! Tomorrow is a new day!

No worries

I know what you are all wondering.  Well what about Shug’s day? Right?  Shug slept through the entire assault on Biggie Moms, snoozed straight through the laundry, stretched and rolled during the ordering of the new steps, relaxed on the couch during the interior cleaning, enjoyed a duck treat bribe outside on her bed while the newly mopped floor dried, and had a great time visiting the neighbors. Shug had a great day!