Our van breaking down would have been less of an issue if we hadn’t been on our way to Camp Mamaw 204.56 miles from home. On Christmas day. WRAAAAAAAAA!!!!
So here’s the whole story. On our trek to VA for Thanksgiving, we noticed the van’s transmission doing something weird. It was revving at inappropriate times and behaving in a wacky, annoying way. The week BEFORE the week before Christmas, we dutifully took it to the shop (you may remember me complaining about that here) for an oil change and tire check, and told our awesome, wonderful, sweet, kind, loyal mechanic (who is now fired) what the problem was. He was unable to duplicate the transmission wackiness. Hmmmmm.
My mother arrived the week of Christmas and we had a rolicking fun visit that culminated in us caravaning from our house to Camp Mamaw. I drove my mom in her car because she had to drive another gazillion hours to her place in NC, and that way she could
snore like a buzz saw nap on the way. So away we went on our Christmas 204.56 mile quest for family, presents and holiday cheer confident that we had taken every precaution NOT to break down on Christmas day. Ha ha ha.
During the drive, husband and I were on the phone occasionally (hands-free, of course)
so I didn’t get lost to chat for fun. About an hour into the drive he called to tell me the transmission was getting its freak on again. And again an hour later. We were almost to Camp Mamaw, but I had to take a detour because there is an underpass that is under construction (I swear everything would have all been fine if it weren’t for that effing underpass). This is not something I am good at. Change, I mean. And finding stuff. I have been driving to Camp Mamaw since 1992. It feels more like home than any place I have ever lived in my life. Ever. But I simply can NOT get there without that freaking underpass. We had TWO GPSes but that didn’t help because Mom, Sweet Pea and I kept arguing over them and they kept having to find a signal, etc. And they both kept trying to take us back to the underpass. So I called Husband to talk me out of the land of no underpass and he told me he was broken down. In the middle of the road. Oh sh**.
I have been pretty clear about how I feel about Husband’s parents. They are awesome. Having said that, Mamaw is not at her best in a crisis. She worries. And panics. At this point I had no one else to call, so I called Mamaw. She totally kept her cool, talked me to where I needed to be, and by the time I got there she had the little shorties and Doodle Dog loaded up in her punch bug and was heading back to Camp. Thank. God. After a couple more trips, we had all the creatures and presents and crap back at her place and she was handing me a Mimosa. That Mimosa was heavenly.
Tune in later for Holy Crapola! Part 2, Electric Boogaloo when we delve into how to rent a van, find an auto shop while you are out of town, get a tow and make a big family financial decision all in the middle of a holiday snowstorm on a Sunday.