Spring break of 2007, it was my eighth grade year. My brother, Brett, had moved down to Mooringsport, Louisiana a few years before from our home in Carlisle, Ohio. He had visited the year before and now it was our turn to visit him and his girlfriend. We decided to take our new R.V. and hit the road. This would be our first large trip since my grandmother had given it to us. It would also be our most fateful trip.
Day one was drab. The only interesting part was the amazing State park we found that had cougar prints at the lake side and it snowed.
On day two we stopped by Shiloh before moving on where things got interesting. We were Traveling down interstate 40 with mom driving. Check engine light pops on, not the first time, and then the engine stop’s dead. We drifted over to the side of the road. We were not in the Good Sam Club at the time, oh how we wished we were. We called and three hours later I saw a tow truck. It picked up a R.V. heading the opposite direction at the same exit, Carlisle, Arkansas. I was sad, bored, and slightly amused. After another two hours our creepy, dirty, smelly savor came. He took us one exit down to Perry’s Motel. I was scared.
Maybe it was my dog, Shadow, snuffling the bed, the phonebook under the bed’s leg, the fake showerhead, the neighbor with a truckload of live snapping turtles, the fine layer of muck that covered everything, the green pool, or all the bugs, but I think it was the fact that only two other groups were there that really scared me. We were stuck, and tomorrow was Easter! It was hard to fall asleep even in our locked Coachman, so we tried to pretend we were back at the campground with the cougar and snow. Easter morning we got up to make phone calls. The short of it was that no one would tow us till Monday and we didn’t have a car. We called Brett and two hours latter he and his girlfriend were there. By then we had a plan, mom and dad stayed with the R.V. and Carolyn and I went to our host’s home. We never did make it to Mass.
It was an awkward time with Brett, his girlfriend, and her kids. No one knew how to act. We ended up taking one of the kids room to sleep in because we were without the R.V. When mom and dad finally made it they were in a rented car. It was then that we learned about the very nice R.V. park just one exit farther from where our tow truck dumped us. A few days after getting home we became members of the Good Sam Club. It was a good decision. Now I don’t have to worry about getting dumped at a creepy motel by an uncaring tow driver.
Submitted by Elaine Givens of Carlisle, OH as a part of the RV Centennial Celebration “Share Your Favorite RV Memory” contest.
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