Muchas Gracias - The Joy Is In The Journey - Part 5

Since we're now on part 5 of this adventure, it may be obvious to you that the Nomad did not blow up. Dave and I waited about 30 minutes for our RV to cool off a bit so he could give it a once over to determine if there was something mechanical we could fix or if the Nomad had in fact gasped it's last breath. I saw Dave lift the small hood and peer into the engine bay. Then he crawled underneath it. He walked back into the restaurant - said we had a broken belt and showed me the damage. I thought to myself, "This is fixable. We can do this."

We asked several people in the plaza, Deidre the bartender in the Bistro, Beth the manager on duty in the indoor sports complex next door, as well as the two owners of the entire plaza, if they knew a reputable mechanic in the area. Apparently, there was a decent one about 3 miles down the road. Beth was gracious enough to not only Google the business complete with phone number, but also printed out a map in how to get there. We called the owner of the garage and he said he could fix the RV, no sweat. One problem though - by now it was 4:30 p.m. in the afternoon. The Nomad wasn't going to fixed today. We told the garage owner we would see him around 10 o'clock tomorrow morning. We would never arrive there...

The next questions we asked were; could we spend the night in the parking lot, and was the neighborhood pretty safe. It didn't look bad, but we wanted some reassurance, especially with two bars within stone throwing distance. "You should be fine on both accounts," we were told. Finally, we were given directions to a small, funky, local market that was less than a quarter mile down the road where we could get some cheap eats. Works for us!

After a simple, but decent dinner, it was time to hunker down in the Nomad for the night. In all reality, it wasn't all bad considering where we were. None of the patrons from either bar gave us any grief, nor did the group of local hockey players that gathered until 1 a.m. in the parking lot after the sports complex closed at midnight. At this juncture, we actually thought we might get some sleep, until the two police cars stopped a motorcycle right across street at 2 a.m. - and never shut any of the lights off. Needless to say, sleep alluded us for most of the night and we felt like we were starring in some bizarre reality TV show that we were both totally unaware of.

The next morning broke bright and sunny. We and the Nomad were all still in one piece. First order of the day was coffee, then call for a tow. We ventured across the street to Uncle Bob's Ham & Egger's - a true old fashioned diner. A smiling and bubbly waitress named Sandy even gave us free seconds on the coffee while we called Good Sam's. Dave exercised incredible patience as he swore he was talking to the "new trainee of the day". We knew we were in trouble when the representative asked if we were still waiting for a mobile mechanic to come out and fix the no-start problem we were experiencing yesterday. Nope - new problem. Once we explained our current situation, we were told that Good Sam's would have to once again try to find a mobile mechanic service first. Dave told the rep we were only five miles from where we were yesterday and that there wasn't one available then - could we just get a tow? The rep said "No - we have to follow this procedure, regardless of what happened 18 hours ago. Otherwise, you would have to pay for the tow." Fine - knock yourself out.

We returned to the Nomad, did our meditations, ate breakfast, and waited. After about 2 hours, a van pulled up and a mechanic hopped out. He said his name was Tim and that he was dispatched to see if he could help us. He looked under the hood and promptly said, "You need a new belt!" Dave agreed with him as he showed him the old one. Tim told us he would have to send for a truck as he didn't have any parts or tools with him. We thought to ourselves, "this isn't much of a mobile mechanic..." Undaunted, we said that was okay. Just call into Good Sam's and let them know our situation has changed from a mobile roadside repair to a tow and they will pay for it. "Sounds good." said Tim. Problem was, we would never see him again either...

Good Sam's called us back about 30 minutes later. The representative told me that they finally found and dispatched a mobile mechanic service. I said, "I know - he left about a half an hour ago. He should have called you about getting us a tow." Thus started a very confusing conversation, after about a minute, I handed the phone to Dave before I hung up on her and threw the phone out the window. Turns out, Good Sam's didn't dispatch the first mechanic. Nobody really knew who Tim was. We were to look for a mechanic named Ned from Atlantic Truck Repair.

About another 45 minutes past, and Ned showed up in his funky looking repair / tow / bucket truck. Ned was a character just like his truck. He had three shirts on, shorts, old work boots with white socks rolled down to his ankles, and a funky hat that went down to his old-style trifocals. He didn't have the correct belt with him, but he measured for the correct size. He said he would be back as soon as he could. After another 20 minute wait, Ned finally showed up a belt "this is close - it's about a half inch too short, but I think it will work. Just need to adjust the alternator bracket."

By this time, Jill needed to find a restroom, but many of the businesses didn't open until at least noon. Running to the nearest one at a hair salon across the street - as most women may experience, her bladder was about to let loose - but the only language they predominately spoke was Spanish. Despite the language barrier, she managed to locate the bathroom. On her way out, she thanked them with gusto - "Muchas Gracias". They all broadly smiled back hopefully appreciative of the effort she made to communicate in their language. She just hope she pronounced it correctly! Even when stressed, she tries her best to spread the love.

Back across the street, Ned managed to get the belt on. "Fire it up!" he instructed Dave. He turned the key and the Nomad roared to life. After letting it run for approximately ten minutes, everything looked fine - no noises, engine temperature, voltage and oil pressure were normal. We were looking good. We asked him one last question; how to get to the nearest Wal-Mart as we needed more minutes on our phone, especially after all the roadside assistance calls we had made in the past five days. Being a truly gracious human being, he said, "Follow me - I'll take you there." And that he did - all the way into the parking lot, gave us our broken belt back (Jill wanted it back), and then waved goodbye.

After a quick stop, Dave looked at me and said, "Let's go home." I asked him if we would be stopping in Massachusetts to visit my Mom. We agreed to take it one mile at a time. We also agreed if, for some reason, the Nomad needed another time-consuming repair, that we were going to sell or salvage it and take a U-Haul the rest of the way home.

Ironically, just like when we purchased the Nomad, once we traveled out of the Hartford metro area, he ran like a champ. He even seemed to be getting better gas mileage. We did notice, however, he would struggle quite a bit traversing any hills. Dave contributed this to a loss of engine compression due to the head gasket that was on its way out. We were doing great and beating all rush hour traffic. As a result, I called my Mom and told her we would be pressing onward to Maine and not stopping this time for a visit - we seemed to have momentum on our side, even though our nerves were shot. She wished us well and understood.

Now - the next question - would we actually make it?

Until next time,
The Happy Campers,
Jill & Dave