Tuesday, December 31, 2013

It's Always Something

We're having a Rumo Day. (Our friends the Rumos have five children. Every day is an adventure for them.   Never wake up, exist, then back to sleep. Never. Always a little monkey wrench  works itself in somewhere.)

Three of their kids ride with us in our RV, named Otto, traveling down North Carolina's Route 12 in Cape Hatterras National Seashore, heading toward the ferry to  Ocracoke Island. The parents await us there.  We plan to celebrate New Year's Eve together. Say hello to 2014.

So we are on the road. And our 14-hour journey to meet up with their parents  now spans 29 hours because, well, Al can't be rushed.

But we are almost there. Thirty minutes to the ferry, an hour ferry ride then we will be there. Ocracoke. 

But ROAR ROAR ROAR. Something's wrong with Otto. ROAR ROAR ROAR. We've lost gears. We're coasting down Route 12, no gears and three young children yearning for  Mom and Dad.

Our first little miracle: A turnout. So we coast safely off the road with just Otto's nose sticking into the road. No problem.  We have CoachNet, a super expensive road emergency service for RVs. I call. I cry. Our policy expired in February.

Our second little miracle: CoachNet assists us anyway, finding a qualified mechanic and notifying police to come to our rescue. We leave lots of messages for the mechanic (it's Saturday night now and nobody is home). The police come and we -- me, two 8-year-olds and the cop -- push Otto to safety (Al's behind the wheel; the youngest tends to the dog.)

It's getting late and we decide to head on to Ocracoke for the night and tend to Otto tomorrow. 

Our third little miracle. All six of us (me, Allen, the three boys and our giant standard poodle) and our overnight bags fit into our toad, a Scion IQ (Go ahead, Google it ...).

Our fourth little miracle: Neither the police who watch us pile into the little car nor the Coast Guard who watch us pile out cite us for failing to meet the safety code.

Our fifth little miracle: Kenzie, Kenson and Kenley, the three little boys with us, smile, laugh and giggle despite the uncertainty.

Finally, 34 hours into our 14 hour journey, we meet up with the Rumos and snuggle in for the night, happy, laughing and pleasant.

Yes, it was a Rumo kind of day. And, thank God, it ended that way, too.