Well, naturally as soon as we acquired Harvey the RV, My Knight was chomping at the bits to go out exploring the wilderness and the open road. (Or a state park close by.) So he took Harvey in to have a little check-up and make sure everything was working
properly before we took our 1986 Cousin-Eddie-wannabe out on the road. (I would tell you how old he is in years, but that would just remind me of how long it’s been since I graduated high school, so please do your own math.)
We were leaving right after school to join friends for dinner and the theater that night, but when I got home My Knight wasn’t there! Turns out Harvey had broken down on the side of the road. (Shocking, isn’t it?)
My Knight had been stranded for a few hours waiting for me to get home from school, and he wanted me to come and follow Harvey as he limped to a different mechanic. Evidently the first mechanic didn’t do something right, so the camper was overheating every couple of miles. And on top of that, one of the brake calipers was locking up. So needless to say, progress down the highway was S-L-O-W. We FINALLY made it to the new mechanic who said Harvey would need to stay overnight. (Fine by me! Off to the theater it is!!)
My Knight jumped in the car with me to rush (fashionably late) to our friends who were already at the restaurant. We had gone a few miles when I ever so tactfully turned to him and lovingly said, “You smell really bad. Like…you reek.”
My Knight: “Well, thank you. I have been stranded on the side of the road for hours with no air conditioning.” (A tad bit of sarcasm and bitterness injected. And warranted.)
Me: “I know. But we are going out to dinner and to the theater. You’re all stubbly and stinky and really rough-looking. I brought you a clean shirt. I wish I had thought to bring deodorant or a razor or a washcloth or something. I didn’t realize you’d smell so bad.”
My Knight was less than amused by my “concern” over his appearance. When we pulled into the restaurant parking lot, he took off the sweaty shirt to put on the clean one, and I had a brilliant idea. I decided to help him out a bit by spraying some hand sanitizer in his arm pits. I figured it was anti-bacterial, and the stink in sweat is caused by bacteria. Pretty resourceful decision on my part, right?
Um, yeah. Don’t ever try that. It appears that though in theory it may have sounded like a good idea, the alcohol in the hand sanitizer MIGHT be a tad bit
irritating, annoying, burning, hell-firish to a sweaty armpit. It MIGHT cause grown men’s eyes to water and curse words to fly out of their mouths as their pit suddenly bursts on fire with the sensation of a thousand ants stinging at once. And it MIGHT lead to a bit of tension during dinner. (Not for our friends though. They had a window seat by the parking lot and were able to watch this entire incident from their table. Evidently it was bit more humorous from inside the restaurant.)
The next morning I dropped My Knight off at the mechanic’s, and four short hours later he called to say Harvey was healthy and they were on their way home (twenty minutes away). An HOUR later, he called again. He and Harvey were on the side of the road. AGAIN. Still overheating. So I went to get him and crawled along behind Harvey as he limped into a grocery store parking lot nearby. It was, of course, the weekend, so there was very little we could do but leave him there.
(And thanks again to all our well-meaning friends who hysterically pointed out that Harvey’s first official camping trip was in the Publix parking lot.)
I left a note on the window for the Publix management to explain that it was broken down (in case they weren’t able to detect the obvious) and that we would be back to get him (much to their relief I am sure).
The diagnosis now was a cracked head, which is evidently a pretty serious injury, so the goal was to get him to a mechanic near home where he could stay awhile. I’ll skim over the parts where Harvey limped from the Publix parking lot to our church lot nearby, and I’ll just quickly bypass the whole incident where My Knight pulled Harvey with a chain behind his company van while my pastor drove the RV (with no steering and no brakes). Don’t try that one at home, kids.
(And actually, I would have no problem telling you about all that, but My Knight says Harvey is sensitive and doesn’t want us to make him look bad. Something about keeping some details to yourself and Harvey wanting his history to be in the past. Ahem.) The great news is that Harvey’s head wasn’t cracked! And once his brake caliper got adjusted, his fluids got filled, his radiator got flushed, and a few other things
drained our bank account got fixed, then — Lo and Behold! Harvey was ready to go camping! Oh goodie! (Can’t you just FEEL the enthusiasm in my fingers as I type? Did I mention that I don’t really like camping?)
Needless to say, I was no longer laughing. But it has to be more fun camping in the
stupid beloved thing than following it down the road at snail’s pace, right????