Jef and I packed up our camp yesterday morning and headed into Flagstaff to run a few errands. After visiting Northern Arizona Wind & Sun to shop for solar panels, and Buddy’s Welding and RV to get a quote on a custom rack for the solar panels, we made the 2-hour trek to Phoenix to check out an RV salvage yard. I was hoping to find a horizontal propane tank, a grey water tank, windows, and maybe even hardware for cabinets—something to make the trip out to Phoenix worth it. While this particular salvage yard had everything one could possibly need to build a 1960’s era RV from scratch, they had absolutely nothing that I could use.
Feeling somewhat dejected, and not wanting to spend an extra minute in the 100-degree heat, we headed home to Los Angeles, stopping in Blythe for dinner. Low on gas, we turned into a gas station, filled up, and then drove a quarter mile to the famous BBQ joint in Blythe where we planned to eat.
And then a bird pooped on Jef’s head. And it ricocheted off his head and hit me in the face.
Thankfully, a solar shower was conveniently sitting in the van. We washed Jef’s head in the parking lot of the BBQ joint, wiped off my face, and then… realized that Jef had forgotten to close the gas tank when we stopped for gas. The gas cap was missing, and the access door was wide open. By now we had also realized that the sewer grate next to the BBQ joint was emitting a foul odor that smelled like dead rotting flesh. Alarmed, we abandoned our plans for a juicy BBQ dinner.
Frustrated, tired, hungry, and dripping with sweat and bird poo remnants, we drove back to the gas station and scoured the area for the gas cap. No luck. Perhaps some lucky bum found it and is it selling it for $0.50 on Ebay. Not knowing what else to do, we stuffed a rag in the opening, considered Blythe cursed, and got the hell out.
We drove and drove and drove, getting hungrier by the minute. I was feeling like I needed a good stiff drink, and Jef was feeling like we deserved a nice meal after having spent three days in the forest, so we splurged on a nice meal at a restaurant in Palm Springs. The food ended up being pretty awful, but we enjoyed our drinks. I enjoyed a very tasty and very strong mojito, and we laughed about our crazy day.
After our meal, Jef walked and I wobbled out to the van. He pulled out his keys, and dropped them… Down a sewer opening in the street.
No. This isn’t happening!
Luckily, I happened to have my key nestled safely in my pocket, so getting into the van and driving home wasn’t an issue. Jef resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to get new keys for everything.
And then I remembered that I had a toolbox in the van (because what kind of girl travels without her toolbox?). In a somewhat tipsy stupor I fumbled through it’s contents looking for anything that could be fashioned into a long hook-like device. Hey! Plumber’s tape! Pop rivets!
I eagerly got to work. Jef had no idea what I was doing.
And voilà! Keys!
We drove the rest of the way home cracking up over the day’s events, and arrived home much later than planned. These weren’t the kinds of adventures I thought we’d be having in our van.