Where were we? Oh, yeah, dumping the black tank.
Now we have a few gallons of fresh water in the black tank which we can dump. This will leave the tank somewhat cleaner inside but mainly, we want to rinse the hose so it's not too gross when we unclamp it to dump the grey tank.
All that's required is to pull the valve. See previous posting. Being a smartypants and a real dumping expert now, I decide to do it standing up. Now, like most things that are meant to be done lying down and are attempted standing up, the results are seldom as satisfactory as one would like. And furthermore one is courting absolute disaster.
There I am, pulling like a plowhorse, when my left ankle twists, I hear a sickening crunch and down I go on my butt giving my shin a hard rap on the underside of LL. The crunch is my ankle who has decided that she's had enough for one day. As an aside, the valve is now open, completing the draining and rinsing of the black tank. I close the valve and remove the hose. And cuss for awhile
No sense getting up: I'm really getting the hang of this crab-walking. I skoot forward a tad and attempt to remove the grey cap. It is absolutely not coming off. I'm going to have to get help from the dwindling population hereabouts. This I can't do from a seated position so I have to get up. (I feel like the old lady in the ad, "Help, I've fallen down and can't get up!")
Consider for a moment the mechanics of getting up from a lying down on the ground position to a standing up position. Unless you have a crane or forklift handy, it generally calls for a certain amount of force pushing down on your feet, extending your leg muscles and a modicum of balance. Being down one ankle, I end up dragging myself over to the fence and levering myself up by sheer force of will. I hobble off, down the road and come across a few burly lads. With my best smile, I ask if there are any white knights around.
I rope in my sucker, er saviour, and lead him back to the rig. I explain my situation and ask him if he would be kind enough to crank off the cap. My real hope is that he will take pity on my various injuries and horrible day and just dump the darn tank for me, but no, he removes the cap (thank you) and re-joins his buddies and their beers, wishing me a better afternoon. I click on the hose and, will miracles never end, pull the valve which opens with only token resistance. I know I should rinse this too but screw it. I'm done with waste fluids and hoses and squirming around under the RV. The hose won't uncouple anyway. Fine. It can stay on all winter. I'm replacing it in the spring anyway. I close the valve and repeat the fence thing to return to vertical.
Let's get the fridge emptied. No problem. The fridge, freezer and pantry add up to about five grocery bags of food. Time to go back to the old site to get the van. Then, throw the bags into the van and Ruby and I will be off, drop off the keys for the winterizing people and home. Off I hobble.
Will the blessings never cease to rain down upon me. The van won't start. It cranks and cranks but won't catch. Maybe one cylinder, once in a while but essentially, we're not going anywhere. This is a vehicle that started up no problem at the turn of the key a couple of hours ago. Shit. I hobble off to the office (10 minute walk for the able-bodied). Maybe Rocky's still here. He's a mechanic. Just go over to his site (on the opposite side of the property) and check.
Off I go, my clothes are sweat soaked where they aren't stained and muddy, blood has seeped through the band-aids on my arm, my hair is plastered to my head and neck, my right shin is throbbing, my arm is still stinging and my left ankle is shooting arrows of pain up my left leg. I am in one of the rings of Hell and there is no escape.
If I had been thinking clearly I would have merely plugged in the hydro, replaced everything in the fridge and stayed until Tuesday when everything was open and I was feeling better. But I never said I was any good in an emergency. All I have going for me is stubbornness.
I get to Rocky's site and he's working on the facilities a couple of sites over but he is kind enough to come over and listen to my sad tale. He promises to join me at the van in 15 minutes. I go back to LL and fire up the cab air and direct all four dash vents in my direction. Ahhhhh.
Needless to say, Rocky is unable to get the van going. It's probably the computer, he opines. Great.
So Lazy Lady and I abandon the van and drive home. Tomorrow is another day and all will be attended to then.
We get home and the first bag of groceries springs a leak somewhere between Lady and the house. I leave a trail of produce and a jar of pickles between the two. One last raspberry from the camping pixies.
Ginger
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