Today was one filled with misadventure.
It’s the McCrossin way, and in this instance I’m ready to not be a part of it. But since I can’t change what’s going on, I guess I’ll just live through it like we always do.
We left Oceanside, Calif., Sunday and drove to Quartzite, Ariz. For those who have never been to Quartzite it’s a rather dusty, dirty little town in the Arizona desert. Its biggest claim to fame is the thousands upon thousands of acres of Bureau of Land Management land that surrounds it.
People flock to the area every winter to bask in the warm Arizona sun and bake on the flat, rocky, deeply rutted land. Prices range from free to really cheap. It’s actually primitive camping at its best.
We parked the trailer at a free campground late Sunday afternoon and enjoyed the sun and breeze. It was 86 degrees and Petra was not impressed with the heat. Without electricity and only a small solar generator we slept with the windows open.
The temperature dipped to the mid-60s so sleeping eventually became quite comfortable.
We were up early this morning (Monday) and drove to Phoenix and then headed north to Flagstaff. We almost made it too. With about 71 miles to go, a passing driver waved us down and pointed to the trailer. King pulled over, took a look and came back to my window.
“Do we still have a fire extinguisher in the trailer?”
It would seem the bearings on the rear left tire went out and started smoking. I don’t know if there were flames. I never cared to ask. Fortunately, we were right at an exit (one of those that leads to nowhere) and pulled off and waited three hours for a mobile repair truck. King opted not to have it towed immediately, hoping it was fixable.
So $195 for the service call and $200 for actually looking at the tire, we learned the bearings went out, overheated and melted the threads on the axle (the ones that hold the tires in place). King and the mobile repair person rigged something together so we could limp along on three tires to the next town 10 miles away.
He (the repair person) followed us to the exit, even though his home was in the opposite direction. There are a few decent human beings left in the world.
While we were driving down the highway (rather mountainous I might add) I was frantically looking for a place to pull in for the evening. I found one place – an RV Resort. They are the types that don’t like trailers like ours – one’s that John Steinbeck would have had the Joads live in had “The Grapes of Wrath” been written this century.
We pulled in with the tire-less side of the trailer facing away from the campground office.
“Don’t tell them we are pulling in for repairs. Just get us in,” King said as I was getting out of the truck to pay for a site.
The staff was dubious about our staying simply based on the appearance of the “good side” of the trailer but acquiesced when I said we would only be staying one night. Snobbish jerks.
I paid extra for a pull-though site, because frankly, I’m not sure we can back the damn trailer with just three wheels. We probably could, but I don’t want to find out.
We are now set up for the night. After sitting in the sun sweating for three hours along the side of the road this afternoon I’d like to take a shower, but frankly I think asking King to hook up the sewer would be pushing it, and I’m too tired to do it myself. (So I guess I can’t blame him if he doesn’t want to either).
King has called every RV repair place between here (Camp Verde, Ariz.) and Flagstaff. They are all telling him the same thing… It will be two weeks (one if we are lucky) to get a replacement axle. Apparently it’s not something that is kept in stock.
We have an 8 a.m. appointment tomorrow and will figure out from there what to do. Maybe we will get lucky and they can find a fix to get us home. I’m not holding my breath.
As I was texting my kids and friends this afternoon while waiting for the repair person, “What doesn’t kill you will keep you strong. And if it does kill us, we will say hello to Jesus from the survivors.”
