This last weekend was full of fun at Long Lake Lager Fest, but here is the thing.  When everything runs smoothly, fun is had, weather is good, everyone gets along, food is great, a wonderful weekend will be had – but it’s not so great for story telling. Earlier today I put up a post about the fun we had, it was big on pictures, slim on words.  A little truck trouble on the way home on the other hand, now I’ve got a story to tell…

The drive was going quite nicely, we had lunch, stopped and gassed up and were just taking a break after Clara woke up from a huge nap, and then the trouble started.

Or to be more accurate the trouble was noticed.

Trouble was in the form of a greasy oily substance splattered all over the back of the truck and front of the camper we were towing.

Then while Clara and I very helpfully ate snacks, and played on top of the camper John started investigating and making phone calls. Three trips back in and out of the gas station, five phone calls, and a lot of rummaging around later we had a problem, and a plan.

The problem was that the rear differential case thingy-bobby was leaking all it’s oil out (clearly I was not the one under the truck or on the phone for a reason).

The plan was to go find a super Wal-mart with an auto shop (open on Sundays) and cross our fingers that we got there before they closed.

We didn’t make it.

Out came the phone and into Wal-mart went John. A looong time later he reemerged with oil for the leaking thingy-bob and the comment that if there was ever a place that made him want to eat more oatmeal and keeping running this was it.  John called it the “confluence of ugly and fat people” and while that sounded a bit harsh I went inside later and decided he might be onto something. Then as I was wandering around the place looking for dairy-free-eat-able-in-the-back-of-a-truck snacks for Clara, while cursing at the Gerber company that they put dairy in everything and don’t bother with that handy allergen warning at the bottom of the labels (seriously what is with that???) I realized I was wearing my new Lager Fest shirt. I like my new shirt, I think it’s funny, and it’s my favorite color.  But, as I looked down at my shirt with the cigarette smoking, beer drinking, fish and then over to the baby in my arms I decided that perhaps people in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks and I would withhold all further judgment on other Wal-mart shoppers.

Back at the truck John had patted himself on the back for bringing a few tools along and crawled under the truck.  I set Clara  up playing in the back with Piper (who was completely unfazed by the whole ordeal, I’m not sure if it’s because she is the best dog ever or if it’s because we never made her get up from her comfy position in the back of the truck) and attempted to feed her (Clara that is not Piper) while helping John. My job was to find random items in the truck that John would call out and then throw them under the truck.   You know stuff like: the phone, a socket, a pen, a headlamp, paper towels, baby wipes,  a thing that looks like the square part on this but sort of smaller,  I admit he had to crawl back out for the last one, but I was able to handle the rest.  A mere two hours after getting to Wal-mart he crawled back out from under the truck and said we were ready to go.

So as the sunset over the parking lot we set back off toward home.

A half hour later we were stopped one last time for a very late dinner and an oil refill of the leaky thing.  Clara was up way past her usual bedtime and had no intention of going to sleep when she could be checking out what her Dad was doing under the truck.

With Clara’s supervision the refill went quick and we were back on the road in no time. Thankfully we have really wonderful parents who between them were able to shuttle both Ivy and Storm back to us. We pulled in the driveway just after my parents a mere four hours after our original ETA.

The most amazing part of the trip home? I only heard John utter one very heartfelt “son of a bitch” and it was because he couldn’t make a left hand turn. Fortunately in addition to keeping a good attitude when the truck breaks down John also has a sense of humor when it comes to his wife giggling uncontrollably at his swearing.

The three of us may not be very fast when it comes to getting a truck back up and running but we can smile while doing it!P.S. Now that you’ve made it all the way through that take a big breath! In school my teachers used to mark my papers with a lot of big R.O.’s apparently I haven’t learned my lesson yet!