Open Road (241/365)

* As you know, if you’ve read much of my blog, I’m a terrible writer and storyteller. I would love to write better, but it’s a skill that will probably evade me for the rest of my life. I try my best below.

Our first day of the trip was an eventful one. We drove 5+ hours from Phoenix to Las Vegas in 100°F temps and ended the day in 115°F/46°C temps, all our weather apps screaming about an excessive heat warning for the area. A little background first, I guess: we pull a little 20' RV trailer behind a truck. With two big dogs, it just makes everything easier. Finding hotels that take large dogs is getting harder and harder these days. We park, plug in power, and the A/C turns on and starts to blow cold air; so far, so good. Soon after, the breaker blows and the beautiful cold air stops. Shit. #&#@*%.

It’s still over 100° inside the trailer; we are all sweating, and the dogs are panting, looking at us like we are crazy. I checked all the breakers, reset everything, and ran up top to pull the cover off the AC unit to see if anything obvious was wrong. Nothing. Nada. It’s not working.

We are now, at least in my view, in an emergency situation. It’s 118° inside the trailer now with no airflow at all. It’s 6 pm, and I can’t get the AC working with the few tricks I know. We call the RV park office and ask if they have cabins to stay in; they don’t, and only one casino takes dogs that they know of. I start the truck, put the dogs in to cool down, and we start making Plan B and Plan C. We can call an RV mobile repair service, but it’s late; who would be working this late on a hot afternoon? We can try to find a hotel to stay in, or drive back home and get things fixed there. But something has to be done quickly; it’s been a long day, everyone is tired, and we are now insanely hot, dripping with sweat, with no place to sleep.

I start calling mobile repair services, and I get a not-very-friendly dispatcher on the phone, explain our dilemma, and he says it will be an hour or two before a worker can get out. I’m just shocked that anyone is willing to come out in this heat at 8 pm. The family hunkers down in the truck; I’m trying my best to get the AC working while we wait.

Darryl shows up about 7:30 pm; he jumps out of the truck with a smile on his face and wants to know the story. Before I can even tell him the whole story and gush about how thankful I am that he’s here, he’s up on top, pulling covers off and probing around with a Fluke meter, testing amperages. Darryl looks about 30, with cropped hair, lots of tattoos, and big ear gauges. I think he looks like an angel sent from heaven. Darryl has a friend with him, and I start chatting him up; it turns out he’s just riding along. Mike is a Porsche mechanic (I take note of how Mike pronounces Porsche, and vow to say it the right way from now on) during the day, and I start peppering him with questions about the job, how they treat him, pay, etc. I love mechanics. I was an aircraft mechanic for years before I started flying, and I love knowing about other technicians' jobs.

Darryl is off the roof now; the compressor is pulling too many amps and won’t start up normally. He can “soft start” it, and says it may keep working if you don’t blow breakers anymore. I’m about kissing this guy’s hands in appreciation, and he tells me this will keep happening and that I need a new unit. I’m waiting for him to tell me that he can get it done in 4 days, but he says he can be out tomorrow morning after he drops his kids off at school and put on a bigger unit that will cool things down much faster. If they have any more in stock, he has to check with the shop, since they have been replacing units all summer, and he’s not sure what’s left.

Some more backstory. Ever since COVID, I don’t believe people when they tell me they will do something. Sending an email, calling at a set time, “I’ll get right back with ya” whatever it is, most people don’t do what they say they will. I don’t hold it against them; I don’t get angry. It’s just the way it is. I’m very much a pessimist about these things, and I have facts to back it up. Most of the time in my life, when people say they will do something, they don’t. I don’t even care anymore. I know that I’ll have to follow up to make things happen.

So, to be honest, there is a part of me that thinks Darryl won’t show up tomorrow. I’m not proud to admit that, but it’s the truth. It drives my wife crazy. She’s the opposite. Of note, through this whole thing, my wife is calm as a cucumber; she knows it will all work out. My pessimistic brain is screaming, “It’s not alright; nothing is going to work out, you’re going to end up sleeping a miserable night in the truck.”

As Darryl leaves, I shower him with thanks, tell him I’ll pay any late-night fees, etc., and ask about tomorrow and times. He says, I’ll call you tonight with what units we have in stock and what time I’ll be here in the morning.

You know what. Darryl calls a few hours later as we lie in bed, sweating profusely, with the AC trying to cool down the now 118° trailer. Says they have the larger unit in stock, and he’ll be there about 9 am after he gets his kids off to school. I’m smiling now, happy, hot but happy. My faith in humanity is slightly restored by this amazing man that I found on my first phone call who actually does what he says he will. Now, I get to lie there begging the circuit breaker not to pop, wiping sweat from my brow, wondering what we will do if the AC quits again…

9 am, Darryl is there with the new unit. As we heft this beast up on top, I ask him if he got some sleep last night. No, he says, when he got home, the neighborhood was having house parties, so he drove around with his golf cart, partaking in a different drink at each house. Oh, to be young again.

New unit installed, blowing ice-cold air. I send off $3500 for a job well done. I was shocked at the price, but truth be told, I would have paid double that to save our trip. We headed north as fast as we could; the lure of cooler temps as we climbed in elevation drove us forward. We want OUT of this heat.

A massive thank you to Darryl. You have saved our trip and restored my faith in humanity. People taking care of people.

Notes:
I know how lucky I am. I know that millions of people live in those temps with no AC and, in many cases, no home. I flew for UNICEF in Africa for 6 months, flying into 40+ different villages across Sudan, Ethiopia, and Uganda. I’ve seen the horrific conditions that many people live in day in and day out, in 120°F temperatures. I tell this story as a very privileged man living in a first-world country, surrounded by amazing people. The privilege does not escape me.

The one thing that my time in Africa taught me was that no matter the conditions I found myself in, I could never, ever, ever, ever complain. When you’ve seen true suffering. I’ve seen people with limbs hacked off with a machete, mothers giving birth on the dirty metal floor of my airplane, children starving, people with horrific diseases begging for help, begging for a ride to wherever you are going, because they know it’s better than where they are. It’s seared into your brain.