Satellite TV dish latest casualty of ‘McCrossin Luck’

by Phyllis McCrossin

For many, many years the King and I have dealt with what we called “McCrossin Luck.” It generally centered around our vehicles and involved breaking down — often in inconvenient places with inconvenient passengers.

There was one standout moment when we were moving from Paw Paw to Alma. It was the last load of the move. I was driving the car with our St. Bernard, Annie, and small mutt dog, Lucy. King was ahead of me in the truck.

This move coincided with the time there was construction on the S Curve in Grand Rapids. Traffic was detoured to Wealthy Street and somehow detoured around the S curve and back to US-131. We were on the overpass on Wealthy when my car died. I managed to get to the side of the road. King came and got Annie and I snapped the only “leash” I had onto Lucy’s collar. It was a 15-foot longe-line for horses. No biggie.

Now I should mention Lucy was probably a Coydog — that is part coyote, part dog. Our daughter brought her home after passing a sign in front of a farmhouse advertising “free puppies.”  Lucy had several quirks that we learned to accept, one of them being she simply could not tolerate being on a leash, in fact, we could barely keep a collar on her. She was an extremely timid dog who was deeply attached to me.

I managed to get her off the overpass by duck waddling backward, letting out the longe-line, calling her to me, having her leap into my arms, and repeat the process several times over. (The slightest tension on the longe-line and Lucy went into full panic mode, darting out into traffic while I reeled her back to the side of the road like a fish.

And as much as she loved me, trying to pick her up and carry her was absolutely out of the question. She could not handle it). But we made it off the overpass and to the waiting truck — driving the rest of the way to Alma with a St. Bernard, a scared to death coydog, King and I in the cab.

That was a typical day in the life of the McCrossins.

But that was also 20 years ago. Things seem to have changed and we have fewer and fewer mishaps. I suspect it is because I have taken over the maintenance on our vehicles (seeing that it is done, not doing it myself), but King would debate that observation.

So, when it came to our on-going battle over replacing the 17-year-old tires on our trailer recently, I worked to convince King it was absolutely necessary to have them replaced. Naturally, he wouldn’t take my word for it, but by calling several mechanic friends and tire places the consensus was driving 2,000 miles on 17-year-old tires was probably not a good idea.

I also learned that not too many places want to replace trailer tires in the fall and I called at least five tire shops before I finally found one that was not only eager to help, but friendly as well.

So this past Tuesday found King and I packing our trailer, disconnecting everything and driving to Gobles to get new tires. We’ve been traveling with a trailer for about three years so we have a system. I back the truck to the hitch and decipher King’s windmill arm motions as to which way to turn and how close I am to the trailer hitch. It’s then our routine that I stow away everything on the inside and King takes care of the outside.

New to us this summer is a Dish TV satellite system – receiver the inside, satellite dish on the outside.  You can probably see where this is going.

Even our kids warned us, “Don’t forget to take the dish down before you move the trailer.”

King said he thought about the dish several times while getting the trailer ready. But he never got to it. We debated quite a bit about my asking several times if he needed help since I got things stowed away inside in relatively short order. He was disinclined to accept my offer.

Before we left, I checked to make certain the electric and water were disconnected. We check the lights and turn signals together. That’s our normal routine. I forgot the satellite on the roof (not mounted, just resting comfortably) and evidently so did King.

It wasn’t until we reached the tire place in Gobles that he remembered at one point there had been a satellite dish on our roof. It wasn’t there any longer. All that was left of it was the coax cable running to an empty spot on the roof. No more CNN. No more Gunsmoke. Gone are the Wagon Train re-runs and the wisdom of Ben Cartwright.

Yes. We looked for it. It either broke into a million, trillion pieces, flew deep into the woods somewhere, or someone picked it up and now has a portable satellite dish.

The system had been a gift from a friend who moved out of the country. It hurts to have to buy a new satellite dish when we are so close to leaving and like to have a monetary cushion during our travels. But we decided to bite the bullet, reduce our cushion somewhat, and buy a new dish.

There are those who wrinkle their noses at the thought of television in a camper, but one must remember this is also our HOME. So today had me driving to Holland to buy a new satellite dish. As I write this it is sitting in the backseat of the truck awaiting installation.

King is content to watch Bewitched DVDs for the evening.