LLV Day Two: Destination Kanab

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Thursday morning dawned bright and early for me. K didn’t sleep terribly well in the motel, and my body is now primed to wake up at 4:45 am whether I have to or not. We were both up so early I had to kill over an hour before I toted K down to have breakfast. After my first breakfast came the news that the motor home wouldn’t even be looked at until 9 am. It wasn’t even 7 yet. What to do, what to do…

After waking the other kids and trotting them down to eat (my 2nd breakfast) I decided what the heck, might as well get my bike ride in. Terence had brought his new mountain bike in the hopes of getting to ride some trails in Park City, so I dumped the kids with him and went out for my 9 mile ride. Holy smokes, the hills in Camp Verde are steep!!! Where I live is flatter than flat so I haven’t been getting much experience biking up (or down) any kind of steepness. There were a few minutes when I was sure I was going to die, seeing as the bike computer showed me at 28 mph and I was hurtling down right next to a bona fide cliff. Gives me chills just to remember it.

Still, this was good news right? Even though we were stuck in Camp Verde I was still getting my triathlon training according to schedule. I was feeling pretty good until right about the 8 mile mark when it occurred to me that I was moving slower and slower. Kind of like slogging through mud. Sometimes I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed so I rode for another few minutes before I realized that the back tire had gone completely and utterly flat.

I finished my bike ride walking the dang thing for a mile.

Oh, well. At least by the time I got back to the motel, the service people had replaced the fuel filter on the motor home and taken it for a test drive. It was declared good to go (more or less,) and once again we loaded up, this time hoping to get to Park City by bedtime.

All went so well that my dad decided to take the turn off and go up the mountains through Jacob Lake to get to Utah. It would shorten our trip but it’s a little rougher ride, skipping around Page and Lake Powell. The highway wends its way through the middle of nowhere. At some point while gazing out over the vista of nothingness, I looked down at my cell phone to see “No Service” flashing on the screen. I cheerfully remarked to my father that this would be a horrific place to break down, secure in the knowledge that our RV had just been repaired. Besides, we had been driving for several hours now without any hiccups.

Famous last words. Actually, the irritating RV waited until we were halfway up the mountain to Jacob Lake to die on us. There we were, stuck on the side of the road in the literal middle of nowhere, on a grade, with an engine that absolutely refused to start.

Great jumping Jupiter! Now what on earth were we going to do???? (I wanted to swear, but that probably would have shocked my father, who was sitting next to me.) Instead I did some fervent mental praying. I suspect my dad did also. Finally, after many fruitless attempts, the engine started again. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, but then the gas needle dropped from ½ tank to empty and the gas light came on. Oh, you have got to be kidding me!!!! My dad probably wanted to swear too, but luckily for the innocent kiddies in the back, he restrained himself. Still, the engine was running, even if it was likely to run out of gas at any second. Dad took advantage of that and drove at breathtakingly dangerous speeds the rest of the way to Jacob Lake. (His reasoning was that if the engine died again, he wanted the momentum to carry us as far as possible.)

At the sole gas station of Jacob Lake we stopped and my dad got out to fill up our apparently empty tank. When he unscrewed the gas cap, gasoline spurted back out at him. Now, I’m not a mechanic, but this really didn’t seem to be a good sign. Plus, maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t think empty gas tanks spout gas at you.

So he made another round of exasperating phone calls to El Monte’s Roadside Assistance. The final decision was that we should press on to Kanab, where another mechanic would take a look at it. Checking our clock, my dad realized that we barely had enough time to get there, if the Kanab station closed at 5pm. He was in such a hurry to hit the road again that he almost dragged Amy down the road, who was half in and half out of the motor home. Oops.

We rolled into Kanab a little after 4 pm Utah time and found the service station without any trouble. Terence shuttled us in groups over to a nearby park and we spent the next couple of hours hanging out. The kids played on the equipment, and eventually Camie, Ryan, Terence, and Jason got up a little volleyball game. (Kanab has one awesome park!) I was just grateful that it was only in the 90’s in this town and not 110 degrees.

The report eventually came from the mechanics that the fuel pump needed to be replaced and the part wouldn’t be in until the morning. Sheesh. So once again, the pattern of the day before repeated itself. My mom found rooms at the Best Western, and Payson, being the most wonderful motel guy ever, gave her a huge “hardship” discount. My dad and Ryan changed the rental car reservations for the next day, and my mom had to let her family know that we would miss Friday’s golf tournament and boating.

Fortunately, the Best Western had a pool so once again I tried to wear out the kids. Even better, this night my parents stayed at a RV park that was not age-restricted so they kept Jaci, Kylie, and M with them. One less child in our crowded room made a world of difference.

I think I was snoring before my head even hit the pillow.

(To Be Continued—Again)