As fast as old engines will allow

Walking into my Rangely campus classroom on Thursday, I know I've got to make this quick. I need to leave right after work if I hope to make it to Escalante or Red Canyon by nightfall. According to the maps app, it's a 321 mile drive, which should take 5 hours and 43 minutes. But, that's with cars that work well and can go 80, the speed limit on Interstate 70 as it crosses Utah. Not the old Xterra. It just hit 290,000 miles and does better at 55 m.p.h.

The lessons themselves will take the full amount of class-time, an hour fifteen. We have to analyze two arguments, looking for thesis statements, rationale, and evidence. I want to teach the students what to look for in a piece of writing. This will help them read all the deep stuff they're going to have to read for college. If they learn the structure of argumentation, they'll succeed in both reading and writing at the college level.

But the two essays I selected in my haste are anything but easy. The first one, "The Dark Side of Taylor Swift," is actually a dark article about an 800-year-old tradition in Swift lyrics, one that aligns closely with Romeo and Juliet and The Titanic. The other article isn't as deep, but it has a delayed thesis, which is exactly the opposite of what freshmen or sophomores need to do with their academic papers. So, reading "Stop Swiping. Start Settling," I overemphasize this essay is 'flipped' with the thesis statement at the end.

"And you should never do this. Put your thesis statement in the introduction," I advise my second class as they watch the clock and start packing their books. I should leave with them, but I have a few things I need to complete with my online Comp 1 course.

I finally leave a little an hour after class ended and go pick up Buena from the temporary apartment the college gave me in Rangely. I have it for a month, but I haven't stayed in it. The Rangely campus is about a hundred miles from my campus in Craig, and I've been told that Craig is my main focus and I need to be there three days a week--minimum.

It's hot while I walk to the Xterra. Buena pulls on the leash, sniffing the grass, sniffing the trash can, sniffing bushes as we walk. I try to balance my computer bag, backpack, and iced tea as she pulls me along. I stop and loop the leash around her body, a trick Lynette showed me back in Salida. She had a pit bull that would nearly pull her arm off when they walked, so she looped the leash under Bella's body so when the dog pulled, it gave a snug feeling on the abdomen, and the dog would soften the pull. I've done this with Buena most of her life. She's a powerful little beast.

I get in the car and drive. I don't need a map. I've got this memorized: south over the mountain pass and 70 west at Loma. Once I cross the border into Utah, the speed limit changes to 80 mph. The Xterra's engine doesn't like going over 60 (or 65 on a downward hill), so I watch the cars pass. It's like my grandpa used to say: One pack of cars passes, and another pack of cars comes up from behind. It's a never-ending cycle.

I see the San Rafael Swell before seeing that beautiful sign for Hanksville. Heading south to Hanksville and then west, everything becomes enchanted.

At Torrey, I fill the gas tank and grab a beef stick and chips. Gas-station dinner.

The rain starts as I climb the mountain. At the top of the mountain, everything is grey for miles and miles. It's not going to be a good night for stargazing.

Arriving in Escalante, the sun briefly warms the thick grey clouds to the west, but the wind is strong. I stop by a friend's house and pick up the mail he's holding for me.

"Do you want to keep your PO Box? Ryan said your rent is due," he asks.

"I really don't have any money right now. I will have it soon," I promise, banking on all the upcoming classes and paychecks I see dancing into my account in the near future. "When's it due?"

"September first."

"Tomorrow?" I ask rhetorically, reviewing numbers in my mind: RV repair bill, gas back to Craig, and (hopefully) a little something left over for Buena's food and my food. Food. I really want to make chili now that I'll have a working fridge again. It's cheap and healthy. I can live off of that for months if I have to. "How much is it?"

"Forty-nine bucks," he says.

"Oh...wow! I don't know what to do! I can't give up my box here. This is where I want to make my address, my home one day. Everything I have is tied to this place. I can't possibly lose my box right now. I've got so much on my plate with these classes, and then those other classes for that other university, and I don't even have a place to stay yet..."

"Don't worry," Will says. "If you ain't got it, I can front it for you for a month."

"Okay," I agree, promising to pay him when I drive down to Escalante for the solar eclipse on October 14.

When we step out the door, the sky is much darker and rumbles in the distance.

"There's the storm. It's gonna hit here soon. You'd better not drive in it," Will cautions. "You can stay in the driveway. I've got your old spot back on the hill by the garage."

So, I park the Xterra in my old RV rental space and move quickly to organize things for a night in the vehicle. Folding the sleeping mat over, I make it twice as thick, but more narrow. The floating detritus--shoes, coat hangers, de-wrinkle spray, baseball cap, purse, tennis ball, etc.--of life in a car gets tucked away, while I hasten to give everything a logical spot as the wind increases.

I feel rain in the distance.

The sky flashes, then rumbles.

It's getting closer.

I don't relish closing all the windows against the rain because the humidity is at an all-time high inside the cramped space. As the rain patters against the windows to the west, I quickly roll those up.

The rain beats strong from the south, against the back window, and also falls on the front window. But nothing is coming in from the east, so I leave those windows open and enjoy the wind pulsing through the vehicle as I lean against the cooler, point my feet towards the door, and watch lightning.

I wiped my face and neck with a wet wipe and let the whispering wind play with my hair. It feels cool on my face. I just want to stay in this moment forever.

I know that when I get the RV and get back to Craig, I'll have to figure out where to park it. There's no public land for camping near to Craig. Last week, I even went to the Bureau of Land Management office to explain my situation and find camping. There's a campground way out past Maybell and north of there. A real nice place, the uniformed man said, but you can only stay 14 days. In addition, it's a developed campground, so it costs. That's why I can't go to the KOA in Craig. They want $450 a month to park out in a field without water, sewer, or electric. If I want those things, I'll have to wait until December when they have an opening. Those things also come with a price tag of $850 a month rent + electric. Once I get back to Craig, I'm going to have to figure all this out.

Finally, I lay down with the east windows open and fall asleep.

I wake around midnight to moisture on my left arm. The blanket is also wet.

"Ugh!" I moan, sitting upright and stretching toward the steering wheel to turn the ignition switch and roll up the windows. The night air has grown chilly, and only a slight drizzle patters the vehicle.

The next morning, I drive away before sunrise, texting Will as I leave town and thanking him for letting me stay there.

The grey morning clouds feel close, like a blanket upon a slumbering southern Utah. I stop the vehicle near the ruins on the west side of town and listen to the night.

Everything is still.

I drive on, leaving the windows slightly cracked and listening to the wind.

I make it to the RV repair place by eleven, giving me time to unload the Xterra and prepare for the handoff to Saint Brenda. (Yes, Brenda has been promoted to sainthood for all the ways she keeps me afloat and focused. Thank you, Brenda!)

A little after one, Brenda's bus arrives from Vegas. We make a hasty run back to the RV place, so she can see Buena and Buena can see her. She looks at the new fridge, and then I pass the keys to her as she gets into the Xterra to drive it to Havasu.

Very soon after Brenda pulls away from the curb, I do the same with the RV. The Xterra runs faster than the RV, so I lose Brenda at the light at the I-15 crossover. She heads south, and I head north.

In Hurricane, I fill The Godspeed's gas tank.

It's Friday afternoon, and I've got exactly one day to enjoy my Labor Day weekend. If I play it right, I could be camping in Red Canyon by nightfall, thereby spending a whole day in the forest and canyon. I've got writing and course work to do, and there's a place back there where a cell tower signal is available. If I plan all this right, I can make it to Grand Junction by nightfall on Sunday. The plan is solid. What could go wrong?

About seventy miles out from Hurricane, headed eastward toward Kanab under a grey sky, I spy a pullout and move the RV into it. It's time for a cool seltzer water from my new fridge.

I leave the RV idling, put it in park, and jump from the driver's seat to the back. I open the door, and...it's warm.

Maybe it shut off?

I turn it on again like the guy at Camping World showed me.

Only, it's not turning on. Knowing that the vehicle engine feeds the house batteries, charging them as I drive, I understand that I should have full battery power because I've driven all those miles.

I check the command center. I have no lights for anything: battery, pump, or tanks. Maybe a lighting wire got loose? I flip the switch for the pump. It doesn't work.

Then I remember one of the things they did was an electrical bypass. They screwed something up, though.This is the first time I've ever seen the whole panel not light up.

Something is terribly wrong.

As my brain whirrrrrrs round, recalling every electrical and wiring discussion I've ever had, I start to cry under the weight of everything. I cry and cry. Not the pretty crying that turns my hazel eyes a green-turquoise. No, this is the ugly-crying, all red-puffy-and-squinty. It's not pretty.

Turning the RV around, I add more miles to the trip and waste more fuel. At 7-miles to the gallon, driving this far and having to turn around is costing me a little over 21 gallons of fuel. I am not happy. I call Camping World and say, "I'm returning to the shop. You've messed up my system."

An hour later, I show up. The head foreman meets me outside and asks, "Didn't you say you never use your generator?"

"I never even spoke to anyone here about my generator," I reply.

"Well, you said you never plug in, right?"

"No, I never said any of that! Look! I just want it wired the way it was. Right now, my engine is not charging my batteries, and I have no idea what's going on or if the fridge even works!"

"Well, I don't think your solar power is working," he says quickly.

"My solar panels are new," I say. "Everything was working when I dropped it off. I just want you to put everything back the way it was. In fact, at this point, I'd rather have my old fridge back because my house battery system was working!"

"Well, your batteries are dead," he says after testing the terminals.

I look into the compartment housing the two big marine batteries. "Why isn't that cable attached?" I ask, pointing to a red cable that looks like it's coming from the engine.

"Oh, the guys must have forgotten to attach it. Here I'll get it now." He moves quickly and then calls over a few men, and they confer in whispers.

I try to listen in, but the foreman has his back to me. When he turns around he says, "Tell you what.... We're going to hook you up to electric and charge your house batteries tonight. Then, in the morning, we'll see where things stand."

So I spend the rainy night in the Camping World lot. In the middle of the night, I research an RV's electrical system and text one of my friends from Salida who's a super-mechanic. I'm so grateful for my super-mechanics! This one wired my first solar panel set, so he's familiar with my system. I don't expect a reply at four in the morning, but knowing it's sent and the question is out there allows me some peace of mind to get a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, I'm ready to go by seven, but the service department doesn't arrive until nine. I putter around the RV until the employees start arriving. By this time, I've already drawn an electrical schematic and pinpointed where the problem lay. It's somewhere between the transfer switch and the converter.

But the foreman says, "You have a bad converter. It's funny how those things--especially on older vehicles--can just go out."

"But it was working when I brought it in."

"With older vehicles, sometimes they just go. One thing gets fixed and another breaks."

I spend quite a bit of time arguing with him, but it's clear that he's not going to repair the system they damaged. Rather than have him rewire the whole thing back the way it was, I cave. He's certain the converter is bad; I'm certain it wasn't bad when I dropped it off. At this point, I don't want this place touching anything else on my RV. The fact that they missed seeing the disconnected wire tells me everything I need to know. There's a reason many RVers steer clear of Camping World. Now I know why.

With the batteries fully charged, the water pump, furnace, and fridge all work. However, while all of that should work if I'm hooked up to electric, now none of that will work on electric because of the bypass. This will make life more difficult because I'll have to be mindful of the batteries each day and charge them by running the engine on cloudy days.

I leave the RV place at noon on Saturday. With my day of relaxation shot, I head to Cedar City. That will be the last big grocery store until Grand Junction. I want to pick up fresh meat and produce, preparing for my first homecooked meal since May when the fridge went out.

With clouds still hanging heavy over southern Utah, I make my way east, stopping at IDK BBQ in Tropic. It was always my go-to place if I wanted a long drive at lunch time, and I've gotten to know the people there. But I'm so tired, so I lay down to nap in the back.

About an hour later, a small spot of sunlight warms the RV, waking me. I feel a push to go inside and get a $10 loaded baked potato: cheese, beans, sweet chicken, and bacon. I get a coleslaw on the side.

"I was hoping I'd see you," the gal says behind the counter. Over the past several years, we'd struck up a friendship. "This is my last shift. I was actually getting ready to head out the door."

"What where are you going from here?" I ask.

"Well, when we got back from our trip to Missouri, my husband got a job offer in Alaska. I have an offer, too, so we're moving up there!" She told me more about the job and where they're going, and I can't help but feel this will be an excellent move for their family.

Returning to the RV with my container holding the loaded baked potato, I couldn't help but feel grateful for that sunbeam that woke me so I could visit with her one more time and wish her well.

* * *

Arriving in Escalante at a little after five, I head to the grocery store and pick up a couple of the big seltzer water bottles. In addition, I want to see who's at the store and catch up with people. Of course, I see Cassie and Deanna. Then, Will comes in. We all talk for a bit before I have to take off. I also want to stop by the hotel and see who's around. I run into Osh and Little Bear, and we talk for a bit. He shows me the garden where the flowers once grew. Now, they are growing Thai basil, regular basil, and some lettuce. Osh plucks some lettuce for his dinner that he's cooking on the grill. I wish him well, and then take off.

I stop for the night just past the Hogback Ridge, near the Upper Calf Creek Falls trailhead.

The sky clears as the sun sinks over the western horizon, while Buena and I play on the rocks.

The night is still.

The next morning, I wake early and put on the gospel bluegrass. It's Sunday, after all. This is my church time.

The sun warms the RV, and the blue sky beckons me onward toward Torrey. I fill the RV tank for the third time in as many days.

Then, I take a pause and go visit with a good friend. We sit on the porch swing at his house and talk about archaeology and writing, Hanksville and Escalante, projects and repairs. He lets me use his wifi so I can check in with students. It's the first week of an online class, and I have to connect with every student in the class on the discussion board. I only have to welcome about eight students to the class. It takes a little over thirty minutes, and I'm off again.

West of Hanksville, I pull onto a dirt road. Buena and I wander around on the sand. While I inspect the clear pieces of gypsum, she wanders over by a rock wall and some bushes. She hunts lizards and chipmunks, but she never catches anything. When she gets close to catching something, I shoo her away from where she roots around. Out on this desert, she's looking for lizards. I can't imagine there's any chipmunks out here due the scarcity of trees and shrubbery. She beats me back to the RV and waits in the shade. When I get there, I reach down to pet her. Her black fur is hot from the sun.

The day is warm, and the interior of the RV heats up to almost 100-degrees as I drive on to Grand Junction with the front windows down and the old-time triangle windows tilted open.

We make it to Junction just as the sun is setting. George--excuse me, Saint George--lets me park in his driveway, and we head over to visit Lynda and Pete. George has planned a margarita party in honor of Jimmy Buffett's passing. We sit on hammock chairs that are suspended from Pete and Lynda's porch, discussing our summer travels. At some point, George suggests we stand and make a toast to Jimmy Buffett. We toast Jimmy, and life, and--being older--I think we all understand the brevity of it all. In the end, only love and friendship and human connection really matters.

The next morning, George knocks on my door and tells me I should wait a little bit before leaving. "A big storm is coming in!," he says. "It's gonna just pass us by here, but you'll be in it if you leave now."

The wind blowing through the RV feels good. Once it settles down, I close the windows and say my goodbyes to George.

I make a quick stop for propane.

In Rifle, I stop at the good laundromat and use one of the giant 9-load washers to wash everything. I return to the RV to clean and organize. This is my last chance. I have to be at work tomorrow, and I know what the workweek looks like. I'll be working 10-hour days for sure! When the washer finishes, I unload the blankets, towels, and clothes and throw them into three big dryers. I set the first two dryers at 30 minutes and the third dryer at 20 minutes. High heat. Then, I go get Buena. This laundromat also has a $6-dog wash. I pull the ramp down for Buena, and she walks up it like a lamb going to the slaughter. She knows what's coming. She's been here before. I start the machine, and I've got 10 minutes with the water supply. It's a lot like a do-it-yourself car wash. With the knobs, I can select which type of shampoo I want to use and whether I want to use a conditioner. I finish with half-a-minute left to spare, so I use the "tub cleaner" setting to hose down the tub. Since I still have time on the dryers, I take her for a 10-minute walk and let the sunshine dry her coat.

About ten miles from Meeker, I look down at my dashboard gauges. The engine is running awfully hot. Usually when it goes above the "L" in the NORMAL range, I pop the hood and ease up on the gas. The hood latch keeps the hood from flying open and obstructing my view, while also allowing cool air to circulate in the engine area. I also turn the heater on full blast, setting it to blow at the windshield.

The thermostat is not getting cooler, so I look for a level spot and pull over. Scratching my head, I wonder why the RV is running so hot. I've been taking it very easy up the first mountain pass, much to the dismay of the traffic following behind me at 25 m.p.h. Getting out of the RV, I undo the hood latch and tap on the radiator cap. That's what I do, I give it a quick tap just to understand how hot it's running. Only...the radiator cap is cool! This doesn't make any sense. If it's cool, it's not going to burst out if I open it, right?

I open the radiator cap.

Nothing spits or gurgles, so I look inside. A little ways down from the cap, I can see the reflection of the grey sky inside the radiator. It's definitely lower than I've ever seen it.

Fortunately, I have two full bottles of pre-diluted radiator fluid on board, so I open one. The radiator takes about half-a-gallon.

Buena wants to come back inside, so I check her for ticks before letting her back inside. She was moving around in some tall grass by the side of the road, and...you never know.

When I start the engine again, I'm cautious to watch the temperature gauge as I make my way through Meeker. At this point, I only have fifty more miles and another mountain pass to go to get back to Craig. This second mountain pass isn't as bad as the first one, and I'm confident that the Godspeed will make it. We're a team on this...me and my engine. I keep close watch on the temperature gauge, and it seems to be doing fine...

...until we're about ten miles north of Meeker at the base of the next mountain. With the mountain before us, the red needle sits up way past the normaL...on the danger line!

Fortunately, there's a large area to pull off. I jump out of the RV again and undo the hood latch. Tapping the radiator cap, I can feel the heat. I leave it on.

We're going to sit here for awhile. With the RV clean, I decide the best use of my time is in putting away my laundry. Buena paws at the door, so I let her out with a double-leash hooked onto the door handle. This gives her about eight-feet of exploration space beside the RV.

I have cell service at this location, so I text George. He's a master mechanic. I give him the symptoms and want to hear his analysis. Then, I text Laura, my sista from anotha motha. I tell her my predicament. She has a friend there who says he's a mechanic. She calls me. We talk for a bit. She wants me to visit New York.

When we hang up, I check my phone for messages. George thinks it may be the water pump or the thermostat. I think the radiator is leaking. He's at a ball game, and I don't want to disturb him any more with my troubles, so I determine to limp the RV the next forty miles back to Craig. I've got one-and-a-half gallons of anti-freeze and 12 gallon jugs of water. I'll make it back even if I have to stop every few miles along the way.

With the engine cooled down, it's time to drive. I cautiously make my way up the mountain, keeping the heater on full blast and the hood popped. Fortunately, this is a short mountain. The summit is in two miles. I take it easy and coast down the other side.

And...nothing else happens. The engine stays at or below the L.

I find a spot to park the RV on the college parking lot.

The End....happy Labor Day weekend!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Since I'm--obviously--writing all this after the fact, I thought I'd give an update. The school has an auto shop as part of the community college trade school. When I posted to the Craig Facebook page asking about mechanics, many people suggested the trade school mechanic. I have an appointment with him on Tuesday to show him the RV--which has been parked within sight of the garage for almost a week now. I'm kind of thinking new radiator, water pump, and thermostat. This thing has always run hot, and the radiator has had issues in the past. So, perhaps getting the cooling system repaired is the way to go.

In other news, a few days ago I found a place to plug the RV in until December 15. It's fourteen miles north of Craig beside a barn, but there's electric there. At least I'll be able to run a little heater. I'll also have a Buddy heater as back-up. Of course, I'll have to run to town to get refills on propane and dump tanks. Once the temps hit freezing, I'm not sure what I'm going to do about tanks: freshwater, kitchen, and bathroom. Once when I was in snow, I added an alcohol-based fluid to the tanks to keep them from freezing up. I'll have to look into that again.

Tonight a storm blew into Craig, rocking the RV so hard my little disco ball and hanging lights swayed. The weather app showed the winds at 30 m.p.h. The wind is still blowing now, but it's not as strong. However, I can feel cold air coming in and hitting my legs beneath the computer desk. It's probably from these single-pane windows that don't properly seal. Someone said to get plexi-glass and mount it to RV windows (inside? outside?) to help seal out the cold. It appears I'm going to have to look into that, too.

This year--2023--has been a trying year with things breaking down: the trailer, the Xterra's leaf springs, the refrigerator, and now this. I want to ask what it all means, but I've been so busy working and trying to survive. All I can do it try to catch my breath and pray things get easier.