Breaking Up with Breaking Down

Two weeks. Six mechanics.  Three breakdowns. One tow truck.  I am breaking up with breaking down.  Our relationship began in Delaware, as most of you know.  ‘Twas a night to remember.  We had a good run for a while as we meandered down south, but then things got bumpy, and I’m not talking about the road. Let me take you back to Venice, Florida – a time when I thought I would be trading in my Florida bug bites for some Alabama rock bands. 

After driving up the west coast of the sunny state, I found myself at a loss for campsites, rest stops, and even the nearby Walmart.  However, my first call of distress landed me at one of those giant RV resorts.  For free.  That’s right, upon hearing that I simply needed a place to park overnight, Mike offered me a spot at his RV resort.  When I arrived, I figured I would tuck myself away in a far corner of the parking lot, but instead, Mike had me pull up among some palm trees where he not only let me stay for free, but he also gave me an electric hookup for the night!  Their bathroom and HOT shower is still the best shower I’ve experienced thus far.  I awoke to a damp morning filled with tropical breeze and the faintest smell of stale cigarette smoke. 

“Today is going to be wonderful!” – Delusional Meg

After driving over 100 miles the next morning, I stopped for some gas in Bushnell, Florida where I promptly saw that Honey was leaking antifreeze.  A man came over to inspect the source of the neon liquid and asserted that I would need a new water pump.  He gave me the name of a local auto shop and added some water so, you know, I wouldn’t explode.  So I cruised on over, thinking once again in my delusions, that I would be on my way later that day.  I was not.  Instead, I found myself sleeping in the parking lot of yet another auto shop.  I’ll spare you the details of being asked to stay another night to grab some dinner with the mechanic and then having to pull off the highway not even 40 miles after leaving said auto shop due to his negligence.  I’ll even bypass my night in a Walmart parking lot after yet another mechanical issue where a man told me the clouds above us were actually aluminum deposits that no one was discussing.  After the last few days, I really needed a win.  Thankfully, the next morning this sweet man proceeded to lower his window in the lane next to mine to declare, "You're an ASSHOLE!"  I wasn't crying, I just had something in my eye...

I finally made it to the auto shop where the wonderful mechanic, Otis, fixed me up not once but TWICE for free in Ocala, Florida.  Unfortunately, even Otis did not prevent another stop in Georgia (at least I was no longer Florida’s hostage) where the mechanic told me to simply raise the volume on the radio to drown out the screeching noise coming from the alternator belt.  So I did.  I told you I’m delusional, right?  As if these past few days weren’t enough, I proceeded to step in dog crap at a rest stop…why has this become my motif?

After some thorough cleaning and an excessive amount of vanilla spray, I drove through Georgia and into Alabama where the skies really are so blue.  I spent a second night up north at the highest point in the state where I became witness to both the sunset and sunrise.  Despite the beautiful sunrise, the generous winds had me scurrying to get down the mountain.  And thank goodness, I did!  As I walked back up towards my campsite to retrieve the park pass I left, a giant tree branch fell not ten feet from where I had been parked.  I swear I felt the ripple of an earthquake.  Or maybe just the aftershock of a tree falling in the forest – which I think does make a noise if no one is there to hear it because how did the tree know I was listening?

So after a refreshing and windy morning hike overlooking the Appalachian Mountains followed by fried green beans, yogurt-covered raisins, and beef jerky for breakfast, Eyore and I headed towards good ol’ Mississippi where the sky appears to be at a finger’s length away and the roads shed a yellow glow as they wind through the countryside.  And then not even the radio could drown out the worsening noise.  I’m talking pull a Van Gogh before you go bat-shit crazy worse.  A stop along the highway did not reveal the source of this torture, so I prayed to the driving gods that I would make it to my campground before Honey decided to cause a scene and implode.  As the sound sent birds flying in the other direction and squirrels ducking for cover, a nice burning smell joined the fiesta.  At first I thought maybe it was just the smell of my hair again, because I did mistake a burnt smell earlier with the campfire/fluid-check scent stuck in my curls.  I decided the smell was simply burnt Fritos which didn’t do much to calm my nerves, because I don’t have Fritos, and who cooks a bag of chips anyways?  As I pulled into the campground, I hoped the office would let me stay in site 14 because I can tell you right now, Honey wasn’t leaving that spot even if you asked politely in that sweet-as-molasses southern drawl.

As is the southern charm, Kim sent over Destry, one of the camp rangers, to check out my engine. 

His knowledge of cars stemmed from helping others like myself in the campground, which is more than most of the previous mechanics had to show for.  Upon some inspection, he was able to diagnose the source of the racket as being my alternator which had gone and quit all of its responsibilities.  Within minutes we were joined by Ranger Jeff and fellow camper, Tim – all of whom offered reassurance and/or tools.  Before I knew what Mississippi even smelt like without a burning engine nearby, Destry had taken out my old alternator and Tim was headed over to his RV to call nearby part shops about a replacement.  From that point forward, the idea of southern hospitality came to life.  Tim drove me into town to buy the new part and returned to my site to install it!  We were soon joined by another camper, Steve, who proceeded to help as well!  Holding the flashlight was all I could do to feel useful but even that was taken care of.  As I had already been preparing to warn AAA of the thin snaking road they were going to have to navigate in the morning, I truly couldn’t believe what was unfolding before me. 

The generosity and selflessness that I witnessed in this southern countryside answered the long ago call of Mother Teresa: “The greatest evil is the lack of love and charity, the terrible indifference toward one’s neighbor…”  It is safe to say that these men made at least two women proud on a cool January afternoon. 

Although I am no longer in a relationship with Breakdown, I do feel as if I have learned a lot from this relationship, and I will cherish the time we spent together for the rest of my life.  Nevertheless, the relationship was far too unhealthy and rather expensive for my taste, so I bid it adieu.