February 20-23
Homeward Bound
I hope you’re ready for this adventure. Like, really ready. There’s a lot to it; a lot of details, a lot of feelings, a lot of drama. Here we go.
On Saturday, after dropping Bethany and Owen off at the airport, Isaac and I headed south and then west with home as our final destination. We had planned to pull off on public land, set up for the night, and resume the charge in the morning. That’s not exactly what happened.
The short drive from the interstate to our parking spot was bumpy but passable. No real issues there. We got the camper set up without trouble and I was about to start making dinner (delicious and nutritious macaroni and cheese) when I started noticing something was a bit off. First, the refrigerator door didn’t open quite right. Hmm, maybe we hadn’t leveled the vehicle well. Just as I was passing the oddity off as no big deal, Isaac came inside and noticed that the countertop had pulled away from the wall on one corner. No, the whole length of it. And it seemed to be leaning. And sloping down in the middle. I sat back and looked. Yes, it was definitely way out of shape. I stepped out of the camper, looking at the whole space. The issue, which had first seemed to be only in the kitchen area, affected the whole camper. We could see that the floor was bowing at the point of the axle. What in the world? With another step backward, I saw the issue impacting the entire vehicle.
I fought panic as Isaac and I walked around the camper, trying to find the source of the imbalance. We checked the level in all directions. It was spot on. We tightened the support legs. Nothing changed. I remembered a moment earlier that morning: when Isaac and I were folding down the camper to leave Oakhurst, we had some trouble latching it. Something was out of alignment, making it difficult to get both sections of the roof laid fully flat. Some pushing and pulling solved the problem, though. Nothing to worry about. Now I was realizing it might have been something to worry about. We walked around the camper, using our phone flashlights to examine every inch. On the driver’s side, we saw that the tire was less than an inch from the body of the camper. How long had it been that way? Impossible to know. I finally found the source of the problem when I crawled under the camper. The frame that supports the whole upper part of the camper had broken. Split. Cracked. When I finally spotted the problem, my stomach dropped (as much as it could when I was lying on the ground). The frame appeared to be a single piece all the way around, except for one spot near the axle, and that’s where it split. It’s amazing how much impact that one-inch shift had on the entire vehicle. The tire hub, the floor, the counters, the fridge; all because of a tiny change.
After a few minutes of panicking, I started making calls. I used the Google to locate every trailer repair shop within 50 miles. I must have left at least 8 voicemails that night. I was stressed, okay? We were out in the middle of nowhere, our trailer couldn’t be towed, we didn’t know what our insurance covered, and we just wanted to keep heading home. This saga, as you will read, turned out to be several events. Through each one, our great big God provided for and protected us. The first miraculous provision: We had cell phone reception. There had been so many campsites where we didn’t have reception, and we were way out in the middle of nowhere. There was no reason we should have had cell service, but we did! And so, I was able to call every number I could find. While I called and left messages, Isaac made the dinner I’d gotten distracted from making. Thanks, Ike!
One mechanic returned my call that night. So many calls, so few responses. He said he would call me back in the morning when he knew what his schedule would be, but it sounded promising! After a long day of packing, driving, drop-at-airporting, more driving, and problem-finding, we were tired. However, with so many unknowns and a brain ready and waiting to answer a phone call, I didn’t get much rest.
Around 6 the next morning, I got a call from a welder in Mohave Valley, Arizona who said he could fix us up and get us back on the road. He even helped me track down a tow truck. By early afternoon, we had gathered what we needed for a night in a hotel, closed the camper up, and were watching the flatbed truck back up toward our camper.
I don’t remember if I’ve told you this before, but we lost the front wheel of our trailer back in Iowa. You know that little one on the front that keeps the camper standing when it’s off the vehicle, the one with a crank to help with leveling? Yeah, that one. It fell apart and is on the side of the highway somewhere in northern Iowa. So the biggest challenge of the day came when we had to get the camper off the jack and up the inclined truck bed. A collection of leveling blocks, chock blocks, and nails got the trailer tongue slowly sliding up far enough to secure the trailer on the bed. Those were very stressful moments, just waiting for something else to go wrong. Praise Jesus, that didn’t happen! Off we went, following the tow truck to the welding shop. At the workshop, we met Mike, the gent I had been calling and texting with throughout the day. He took a peek underneath the camper before we offloaded and confidently told us “Yeah, I can fix that.” I’m pretty sure 47 pounds fell off my back when he said that. Teamwork was required to get our poor little camper off the trailer bed, but once it was safely on the ground and inside the shop, Mike sent Ike and me off, saying he’d call in the morning when the welding job was finished. The next morning!! It was Sunday night!
Our first order of business was to find food. Because of the
stress, I hadn’t been hungry all day. Now that the problem was solved (or at least out of my hands), I was suddenly starving. We found a motel room in nearby Needles, California, and a pizza shop just down the road. When I tell you I’ve never tasted better pizza, I mean it. Was it because I was super hungry? Maybe. Was it because nothing cures stress like cheese and bread and grease? Maybe. Have I, in fact, had better pizza before? Probably. But none of that mattered while Ike and I were polishing off those two personal pizzas. Without anything else to do in town, we got checked into our hotel, got into our swimming suits, and got down to the hot tub.
Oh, man. That hot tub soak was exactly what I needed. We had the pool area to ourselves (it was February, after all) and absolutely nothing to do with the rest of our evening. I don’t know how long we simmered in there, but it was longer than the average hot tub soak. An hour? Maybe two hours? At some point, we climbed out. A shower was calling my name and the nearby McDonalds was tempting us with dessert. Yes, please! The crazy events of the past 24 hours and the relaxing evening inspired us to an early lights-out. Goodnight!
Monday: We were just finishing our breakfast in the hotel dining room when Mike called. The camper was ready to roll! Can you even believe that? Just about 36 hours since we discovered we had a problem, our little wheely house was ready to continue the trek home! We stopped by the office to pay for the fix, got back to the workshop, hooked up to the camper, thanked Mike a million times, and resumed the drive home. Finally. We felt invincible. What could possibly stop us now? We had made it through that craziness!
Because we just wanted to get home, we didn’t pick a destination for the day. We would find something once we both felt ready to call it quits. With MN as our only destination, we drove relentlessly, stopping only when the gas tank required it. In the late afternoon, we crossed back into New Mexico. Those miles passed without incident. I started to look for a place to stop for the night on the eastern side of Albuquerque. We would sleep in the camper and car in “go mode” to make the night’s stop as simple as possible. Ahead was a large, safe wayside rest where we would park for the night. Just 40 minutes to go!
And then.
Bang. Skid. Sparks and screeching.
Hit the brakes, pull over. Deep breaths.
Panic. What in the world just happened?
Before we had come to a full stop, I was in a full-blown panic attack. I’ve struggled with anxiety for a long time (maybe you remember that from earlier posts), but very rarely have I had true panic attacks. Tonight, I had a big one. I didn’t know yet what had happened, but I knew it was very bad. Once we’d both caught our breath (JK, I didn’t catch my breath until hours later) we carefully got out of the car and went to look at the camper. What I’d seen in the rearview mirror was correct. The wheel on the passenger side of the camper was gone. Just gone. Without any warning or explanation, it had broken off, causing that side of the camper to hit the pavement and shred. The lower half of that entire side of the vehicle, including the exposed axle, was torn and splintered and wrecked. I could tell immediately that the camper had hosted her last slumber party.
I was terrified. Here we were, just two kids, on the side of the interstate, in the middle of nowhere New Mexico. We just wanted to go home, but that goal was further away than it had been 700 miles ago. Isaac saved the day (well, night). He kept such an incredibly cool head. He didn’t let the stress get to him, he helped me calm down, he made the phone calls, he called the moves. Isaac is the hero of this story. The first thing he suggested: go find the wheel. Maybe it would have an explanation for us. So off we went, phone flashlights shining up and down the ditch. I was shaking so badly from cold and adrenaline that I could hardly walk, but on we went. After we passed what we knew to be the spot of the crash (indicated by the gouges in the asphalt), we turned back. I don’t know how long we looked, but it was so dark out there that finding the wheel would have counted as a miracle. By the time we were headed back to the car, I was shaking so bad that I had to hold my jaw shut with my hand, so I didn’t bite my tongue. I’ve truly never experienced anything like that night.
Once we were in the car, warming up, Isaac called our parents. They heard the story, talked Isaac through next steps, and gave the only real help they could: advice. Upon dad’s recommendation, Isaac called 911. We weren’t in an emergency, but we thought that they could maybe send us some help. The dispatcher told us, a few minutes later, that because this was not an emergency, she couldn’t send an officer. However, she did forward our call to a local tow company and stayed on the line until it was confirmed that we would be taken care of soon. Thank you, thank you, dispatcher lady!
The whole story is a bit blurry. I was in such a scramble through the ordeal, plus I’m writing this four months after the event. I know that we waited for a while. Isaac went out to look for the wheel again, despite me asking him not to. I called my bestie for company and some help calming down. It’s the best sort of friends who can do that. I have that sort and I am so thankful! At some point, Isaac came back, unsuccessful again, and we made a game plan. I was calmed down somewhat and able to think semi-straight. We started by unloading the rear storage compartment of the camper. The rear corner of the camper had sustained the most damage and we could see that everything inside would fall out through the obliterated corner when the vehicle was shifted. After prying the misshapen access door open, I began pulling our gear out of the compartment. Camper tools, camp table, trekking poles, hoses, toolbox, sleeping mats, a tent. It was surreal to be in that moment, in the middle of who-knows-where, doing the work that shouldn’t have needed doing until we got home, knowing that I would never take my camper on another adventure. When the compartment was empty, I reached deeper inside and tried to tear the side off the under-bed storage drawer. We needed to get everything out and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get to that from inside, if we could even get inside. Every yank and pry added to the surrealism of the moment. I was kneeling on the side of the interstate, using all my strength to break my camper. On purpose. A nightmare, that’s what this was. I gave up eventually, deciding that daylight and some rest might help, then stood back. It was a sad sight.
I’m not sure how long we were there. We got the heap of gear packed into the car, then sat inside to warm and wait. It was somewhere between 30 and 120 minutes of waiting for the tow truck. It’s a blur. It was a relief to see those big truck lights swerve in behind us, but I knew the trickiest part was yet to come. Remember the part where we lost the front support leg and wheel? Remember the part when the entire wheel of our camper flew off and half of the camper was resting on the asphalt? Yeah, those were just a couple of the complicating factors. Honorable mentions include the darkness of the desert night, the fast-moving cars just a few feet away, and my subsiding-but-still-very-much-present panic. Thankfully, the tow truck driver was a pro and had very little trouble getting the camper hoisted onto the truck bed. I can’t remember the driver’s name, but I’m pretty sure he was an angel. He was calm and kind and cheery. He made the situation feel conquerable. He hooked and tied and strapped until the trailer was secure, recommended a couple of hotels, and told us who to call in the morning. Within 40 minutes, we were grabbing our necessities from the car, checking into a cheap hotel room, and flopping onto the bed in absolute exhaustion. I truly don’t even know what time it was, but I think it was somewhere around 10 pm. I was somewhere around absolutely spent.
Ike and I were hungry, and he needed some space to do his own calming down. For the record, Isaac gets all the awards for all the things that night. He was the hero and I’m so thankful that he was the one holding the circus together. So, he went out to grab some snacks from the gas station down the block. I lay on the bed, wrapped in my fuzzy blanket, and vented my frustration and confusion and sadness to that bestie of mine. A for-real life-saver. It was late and I was exhausted, but not too tired to eat the Kit-Kats Isaac brought back for me. Kit-Kats fix everything, as I’m sure you know. Our brains needed to unwind in a big way so even though it was late, and we’d been through an ordeal-and-a-half, we didn’t go to sleep for a long time. We chatted and Ike showered and we zoned out on our phones and chatted some more and laughed a lot before finally dozing off.
The next day had a long to-do list attached to it, so we were up early. First: get in contact with the tow company. We found out where the camper was waiting and approximately when we could go to it. Check. I checked in on the insurance claim I had started the night before. That was rolling and I would be getting a call soon. Check. We had to find a bumper rack for my car so that we could (hopefully) take home everything that was in the camper. That took a few phone calls and some Google hunting, but we eventually traced one down at the nearby Tractor Supply and raced out to get it. Check. Coffee. Check. Back to the hotel to get our stuff out by 11. Check. Then, we waited. And waited. And waited. We called the tow truck driver, but he didn’t answer. We decided to just head to the wrecker lot and wait until he showed up. We hadn’t been given an exact address, just a general area. We headed in the general direction, found the exit, then found the lot. Within five minutes of waiting, the driver showed up! He hadn’t called us, and we had no way of knowing that he was so close, but it was perfect timing. We followed him through the gates and saw the sad sight there in front of us; our poor little camper, crooked and strapped tightly to the flatbed. Now, the part of the day that had kept me awake last night: emptying the thing.
It was quite a production. We got it off the flatbed and propped up on a cinderblock. As we lifted the roof and then the walls, I wasn’t sure it was going to stay standing. One kick and the damaged wall might have tipped right over. You might be surprised to learn that unloading something is a much faster process than packing. Even with very cautious movements, we had the camper empty within 10 minutes. Another surreal moment: standing inside the wrecked furnishings of my camper, looking out the door at the pile of all our gear and bedding and food on the ground. But there wasn’t time to feel the feelings yet. Somehow, we had to get ALL of that into the car or the bumper rack. Somehow.
Somehow, we did. And somehow, only our camp chairs and water jugs were tarped and strapped onto the bumper rack. I don’t know how we did it, but somehow, we did. We took one last look at our camper, and we drove away. It’s a good thing Isaac was driving because I wouldn’t have been able to see the road. The tears were flowing. My heart hurt. This wasn’t the ending I had imagined for this adventure. I had pictured a grand, triumphant return, driving up mom and dad’s long driveway with my car and my camper. Not this. We called mom and dad as we pulled onto the interstate. They always know what needs to be said.
And finally, we were on our way home. Truly on our way home. We had the GPS navigating to home and we planned to stop only for food, gas, and restrooms. We would switch off in short shifts to let the other rest.
It was Tuesday morning and we would be home by lunchtime on Wednesday. We drove and drove and drove. We listened to podcasts, we rode in silence, we listened to showtunes and country music and worship music. Isaac, once again, was the hero of the story. He saw how tired I was and drove the majority of the distance. Lunch was PB&Js with chips and veggies while we drove. Dinner was a late-night taco stop in Guymon, Oklahoma. We took a long time to eat, to unwind, to stretch, and to rest. And also to let the car take a few deep breaths. Then, we were back on the road. One more break a couple of hours later to let the car cool, to eat some brownies, then the drive continued. Those night hours flew by. Neither of us slept. I tried to, but my mind was on high alert. Ike rested but didn’t truly sleep. Even still, it felt like only a couple of hours had passed before the sun started to rise. It was a dusty purple sunrise over Nebraska that turned pink as we crossed into Iowa. We welcomed the morning of our homecoming with a lineup of showtunes that we sang until our voices cracked. Hardees hit the spot with that breakfast sandwich and hashbrowns and we made do with gas station coffee one more time. And then…
MINNESOTA!! Home and ice and snow and frozen lakes and just a few hours between us and that cozy yellow house! The state line snuck up on me, so I didn’t get to snap a picture of the sign, but really, why did I expect I would? Nothing else had gone according to plan! I worked through a double-sized serving of feelings in those last few hours of driving. I had really done this huge, crazy thing! But it was over. But look at how I had grown and at all that we had learned! See how God had used this time of challenge and discomfort and out-of-the-box living to reveal so much about who I am. But now it’s back to real life. But I have so many rich memories to take into the future and confidence in many new places. As it all shuffled into order (and has continued to in the four months since arriving home) gratitude is the biggest feeling.
The scenery started to look familiar, and then, for the first time in months, I knew exactly where we were. Then, we were home. As I pulled up alongside my childhood home and parked, the tears came again. This time, they were a mix of joy and sadness and gratitude. It was over, but it was good. It was very good.
In a flurry, we unladed our maxed-out car, piling it all up inside to be dealt with later. When everything was out of the car and on the floor, I truly couldn’t believe we’d fit all of that inside the vehicle. It was a miracle, pure and simple!
We were home.
Nothing could have truly prepared me for the difficulties we met on the road home, but I’d say the four months that lead up to those challenges were the best prep I could have gone through. I wasn’t quite ready to be home, but I had lived out my craziest adventure, and I was proud of where I’d been. So much had been learned, so much had been seen, so much had been felt, so much had been challenged. Blessings on blessings on blessings. Blessings to carry into the next season and into forever. What an incredible, healing, wild adventure. Thank you, Lord, for every moment, every trial and triumph, every little thing. Thank you.
The end.
