Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Her Own Pit Crew - part 2 - MS fig jam & Iowa bread

Monday morning no one came to help me move the motorhome to the repairshop, but the 23rd Psalm continued to unfold. He leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. I told myself not to waste time blaming or get crabby with the repairman. This is the hand I was dealt. Trust.

Behind the wheel, I eased onto the road thankful it was a short trip to the shop. The RV Manager put it in a bay to diagnose. It had more problems than a whole wagon train. For one, the vacuum pulley had frozen causing the brake problems. Ahha, it wasn't my imagination.

Learning the repairs would take a few days, I thought of the English: in times of stress, make tea; organize the kettle. I had fresh Mississippi figs in the refer. Dorothy had given me a box of JELL-O, and the shop secretary gave me 3 cups of sugar. I made jam rather than tea, and defrosted a loaf of homemade, whole-wheat bread I'd bought in Iowa, while the repairmen tore a bay window-sized hole in the engine. At afternoon break fresh jam and bread put a smile on everyone's face.

At closing the boss informed me I would spend the night in the Bounder Hotel locked in the shop. No! I panicked. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. I was alone, but I wasn't. JB said, "get busy with something."

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. The mouse, where's the mouse that adopted us in Iowa, and shows up from time to time dancing through the motorhome? Was it an enemy? Not really, more of a show-off. It could have escaped today, but I wanted company. Calmed by the Psalm and JB's words of encouragement, I did bookwork and my great-aunt Nora act: do everything early except die. And went to bed.

Early Tuesday morning I put shampoo in my hair before I remembered I didn't have any water. Thou annointest my head with oil. God has an answer for everything. At noon the secretary invited me to lunch with her and her husband. Thank you. Everyone was watching out for me. My cup runneth over.

Wednesday by 5:30 all parts were replaced without pieces left over. "Let's test drive it," the manager said. Everything worked, and now for the bill. If this was my grandparents wagon, they might have had to pay with Grandma's pearls. I used plastic and hoped it wouldn't take too long to pay off.

At 6 p.m. they turned me loose to fend for myself. I gave the Manager a jar of jam. He gave me a hug and a prayer. Behind the wheel, too scared to move, I wanted to stay, but God said no, you're needed in Tucson.

(watch for part 3)

copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series

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