It's Not Me, It's You.

You know how much my RV means to me, don't you? You know how excited I was, that day in June when we found the Stingy Person's Special and scooped that little 1987 Fleetwood Jamboree up and called it our own. I could have hugged it and squeezed it and named it George but it's kinda difficult to get my arms around it - it's very rectangular. Plus, you know how I am about hugs. Still, I've cared for it. I treat it just like the real house - it gets the 409 treatment too. So why? Why did it turn on me? And so violently.

It began with a whine - a screech, if you will. Under the hood. So horribly loud that people near us turned in horror and have yet to understand how their hearing loss came on so suddenly and seemingly without explanation.

We wisely decided it would be best to take it to the shop and have that looked at before embarking on this re-enactment of Lewis and Clark's journey to the Pacific. Having already spent more than we should have on the gas leaks that didn't actually exist, we were happy when we arrived to pick up our little Georgie to discover she didn't whine anymore.

And we were ready to go.

Three kids and a Cocker Spaniel? Check.

Mr. Infinity and me? Check.

Shoes to last a week on the road? Check.

Mr Infinity climbed into the driver's seat and proudly set an electronic device on the dash. He announced "THIS is not just a thermometer. THIS will tell both the inside AND the outside temps as we travel. Nice...huh? huuuuuh?"

"Very nice, honey."

About an hour into the trip as I was reading my new book, I was stabbed by a sharp, heavy object from above. "Heyyyy...who..." It was the large mirror from the passenger side visor. Mr. Infinity may be fab in many things, but his sharp reflexes are not on the list. He said "Yeah, I saw it coming loose - sorry - meant to say something." Yeah, that might have been nice. I'm only slightly maimed and this is an easy thing to fix so back to my book. A few miles later - or hours - time seemed to be dragging...oh that's because it was - I noticed the fancy thermometer reading 112 inside and 121 outside. "Um...," I said.

"It might be off a few degrees," he replied.

Nearing the halfway point - only a full hour behind schedule, the winds began to pick up. The rolling casita was being tossed about and the driver was handling the steering wheel as if he were on an SNL set. This thing was experiencing turbulence. It was the beginning stages of love loss. Doubt had crept in. Hanging on for dear life to my door, which I was convinced would open and send me flying into the Columbia River to my right, I noticed a man with arms flailing in a small white car to our left. He was using the universal sign for "some crazy shit just flew off the top of your happy traveling home."
We pulled over to discover that the entire cover to the A/C on the roof had made a suicidal escape. Lost forever on I-84 - RIP AC Cover. We couldn't look back - we had to keep going.

Getting back on the road, we then attempted to turn the cab AC back on - which is completely unrelated to the kamikaze roof unit. It made an ungodly noise and we were made painstakingly aware that we had no AC in the cab. By the time we arrived at GrammaPapaLand, we were all a little stinky and in need of a drink...or eight.

Our trip to the coast was relatively uneventful. The horses and bunnies and wifi made up for the previous day's travel. We were starting to do the math however. This is about the time we realized what 8 miles per gallon really means. We may as well have taken a cab to the coast.

The week was then sprinkled - okay - shutty - submerged with ridiculous amounts of fattening food.

It was time to climb back in and go home.

Three tired, irritable kids and a dirty, matted Cocker Spaniel? Check.

Mr. Infinity and his fat wife? Check.

Anyone give a rat's ass about shoes? Nope.

Leaving Portland was nice and reflective. Somewhere between Portland and The Dalles, we began to get warm.

We hit Burgerville in The Dalles for one last binge for the fat wife of the driver and that's when we faced the fact that we had moved past warm and straight into sweat.

And then we found out we had NO A/C.

There really is no way to describe the panic I felt after I had finished my cheeseburger with special BV spread and fries and Walla Walla Sweet Onion Rings.

It was HOT, man. I don't complain about the heat, but there are CHILDREN in here for the love of god!

Never have I been so happy to see the gray skies as we neared the Blues.

But these weren't just gray. These were really more a shade of hurricane. The water on the road had cars shooting up their own rooster's tails. We had to pull over along with many other cars as the hail came down the size of golf balls. While thankful for the reprieve, we now discovered the leaks in the rolling piece of crap. And as we merged back onto the freeway, we noticed that the fancy thermometer no longer had a reading outside. Evidently, the sensor had jettisoned when it felt it had a chance. We wish it well and do not blame it one bit.
Oh, I almost forgot. I purchased a much needed drink holder in LaGrande for my massive ice water - at the same time that I bought Whatchamacallits, Mini Charleston Chews and Dots. My Dots attempted their own unfortunate liberation. So sad for everyone involved.

The final five hours in the RV allowed us to experience perspiration in a new way - combined with the treats of sugar, chocolate and the random flicking of ice on unspecting passengers. They acted like they didn't like it but I know they did.

As we took the final turn into our subdivision - 10 hours later, the drink holder was the final item to try to jump ship and my entire ice water landed upon my feet. No one said a word.

The now broken up with RV didn't even get cleaned. It was emptied of all personal belongings and taken to storage. It can sit there and think about its actions. It will NEVER go on another road trip outside of a three hour drive again...Oh hai my Durango...I've missed you...what's that? hotel? Yes...that sounds lovely.