I heard something….

Home: My work is done.

Home–grass–joy

Day 407 (JK)

So after our luxury night in beautiful Barstow (hotel with walls thick enough to block wind sounds), we headed for a final night in an RV park in Manteca. The plan was to get in fairly early and do some of the cleaning and prep necessary before taking the fifth wheel to B&B repair. That was the plan.

Around 4:00 Mike announced that he wasn’t tired and why didn’t we drive all the way home? Okay. Somehow we missed most of the Sacramento traffic–all the fender benders were in the south- bound lanes and no wind or rain slowed us down. Yes, the gods of RV travel were with us.

Until two miles from home. When at a stoplight a young woman in the car next to us signaled that Mike should roll his window down. Then she told us that the spare tire had fallen off the fifth wheel during our last turn. We circled back and found the slightly banged up tire leaning against a tree where a good soul had rolled it off the road. It was a night for good Samaritans as just when Mike was contemplating the weight of the tire and the height of the truck bed, a man approached and asked him for 40 cents. I know, weird amount. Anyway, the man hoisted the tire into the truck bed and Mike gave him $5. Smiles all around.

In the morning light we could see how the bolt holding the tire clasp thingy (don’t want to get too technical here) had worked its way through the hole. It says something about this trip and its effect on us that we weren’t upset, just grateful the tire hadn’t escaped on a freeway and caused an accident. The rest of that day we unloaded, cleaned, put stuff away and readied the trailer for its cosmetic overhaul. Which will not happen until June because getting new skirting from the factory doesn’t happen fast. And let’s be honest, this is a 2017 fifth wheel and spare skirting isn’t exactly piling up at the factory.

But it’s all good. We made it home, we didn’t kill anyone with our tire, and the little dog was able to increase mastery over her people.

Note to be former students: I KNOW I am writing fragments and run-on sentences. That’s called literary license. You’re welcome.