I left The Asylum at noon yesterday, stopped by the post office where I found the check for my 401K loan, in the amount of EVERY LAST PENNY I can borrow, crossed the road to the bank, paid the house payment and got a cashiers check made out to the scary hillbilly people who had the RV, after also draining my checking account and line of credit.
Then I went home and napped. Because spending every last dime you have is stressful. And Aunt Flo is an unpredictable old bitch.
I had to wait until the hillbilly Mrs. got off work to meet her, so me and The Amazon left the house around five-ish. She drove across the winding mountain road, the one that strikes fear in the hearts of people who drive trucks for a living, like a bat out of hell with it's ass on fire.
I aged about 5 years in an hour.
Once we emerged from the effin' wilderness, we stopped at the truck stop to tinkle, buy gas and grab a bite to eat. And because I LOVE truck stops.
Don't judge me.
The hillbilly Mrs. called while T.A. filled up her tank. I was supposed to meet her at 6:00 and it was 6:06 so she was freaking out. I guess she thought I was gonna pull a Craigslist maneuver and just not show up. I explained we were on our way. We met at a gas station and I followed her back down the dirt road where the RV sat, looking lonely and depressed, waiting to be rescued.
"Are you sure you can drive it?" she asked.
"I think so," I lied, "I'll just take the interstate back to Scary Hillbilly Town and go that way. It should be okay."
"Well, I brought Wayne," she said, pointing to her car just as Mr. Tattooed Man emerged, "he can drive it back to Frog Pond Holler and I'll follow you. I'm just concerned something will happen and go on my insurance."
"Oh. Um are you sure you want to drive all the way to Frog Pond Holler?" It was going to take at least an hour and half going the long way around.
"Sure, and I'd just feel better about the whole thing."
So Mr. Tattooed Man, who looked, acted, dressed and sounded JUST like Larry the Cable Guy, drove the RV with me riding shotgun.The hillbilly Mrs., who's husband was working out of town and who I suspect was the tattooed guy's sister, followed behind us and T.A. took up the rear.
It was a convoy ya'll. I may have even sang a few notes:
As we puttered along the interstate, Wayne the tattooed guy and I swapped stories of bad mushroom trips, acid induced visions of Smurfette and adventures buying crack in the projects (Just. Don't. Ask.) It was a good thing he was driving, because it took both of us to find the headlight switch on the gauge covered control panel that looked like mission effin' control. As darkness crept in, it became apparent that we had a problem.
The headlights were strobing like the light show at a KISS concert.
Apparently, the switch was bad and kept over heating. By the time we got to the middle of B.F.E., somewhere between Scary Hillbilly Town and the holler, we were having to stop and pull over every ten miles or so to let it the switch cool off. The hillbilly Mrs. kept apologizing, Wayne the tattooed guy kept assuring me it would be alright, he'd get us home. It was decided that should I get a wild hair up my butt and decide to run away from home, I'd probably need to do it during daylight hours.
We eventually did make it. The behemoth is sitting in front of the house. I have a call in to my cousin to come help me get it set up, but although he's not had a job in YEARS and has always had time and been willing to help out anyway he can, he's picked NOW to find gainful employment.
I hope he's free this weekend.
The RV, she looks a little rough. She's gonna need alot of TLC. My plan, cousin or not, is to fire up my camera and take a "before" video, which I'll post here
Ya'll stay tuned. The adventure has just begun.
We'll talk again soon. Later Taters!
P.S. You reckon since it's setting in the front yard, I should maybe tell Ma my plan?