Dear Jen,
As I sit here relegated to my grandparents' living room waiting for Ev to fall asleep (it's 9:00, and I'm thinking this may take a while yet), let me recount to you my oh so exciting adventure of the past couple days.
First let me say that I told Brad like six times to honk at you when you passed us on the highway in Banff, and for some unknown reason, Mr. Horn-happy over-user just stared dumbly back at me as though I wasn't saying anything at all. And then when you were finally out of sight and I questioned why he did not honk, considering how much he loves pressing down on that horn, he had the audacity to tell me that I didn't say it soon enough. No word of a lie, I first requested it as you were passing us, then again when you were merging in front, then again several times as you inched further away.
Honestly.
So the excitement actually started within probably an hour of your passing (no no, I'm going to leave the phrase just as it is). We were climbing yet another tall and long hill, inching slowly toward the top, and just as we reached the crest, where the large "WELCOME TO ALBERTA" sign proudly stood, we suddenly felt that the road had become very uneven and bumpy on one side of the car. Brad urgently instructed me to check the tires out my side view mirror, and lo I beheld a smoking, flopping, wobbly mass of black spinning pathetically where our trailer tire should have been.
So we stopped.
Yes indeed, the tire had blown and the metal frame was bent. Alright, cool. We have a spare. So Brad unloads the entire back seat area, pulls up the seats, and finds: no jack. Yup! Ok, so we need a jack. Well, while we're figuring that out, we may as well detach the spare. Brad grabs the ratchet, puts it on a bolt, and quickly discovers the next blow: our ratchet is too big for the bolts! YARG! So here we are, children crawling around in the dusty gravel, our belongings strewn across the side of the road, our mattress that had previously been strapped to the front of the trailer and resting on the spare was now loose and diagonally resting precariously close to the open road, and us with no jack or ratchet. It was a great 40-or-so minutes! A construction guy holding a sign came and talked to us, but since all he had was a sign, he was useless to us. A bus stopped just before the Welcome to Alberta sign but only for a moment, then sped off. A minivan even pulled off the road just ahead of us, and the passengers walked back toward our vehicle...then without even glancing at us, walked past and toward the Welcome to Alberta sign. Brad had to catch their attention to ask whether they had a jack, which they did not, so they took a few pictures of the sign and then left.
I don't want to kill you with suspense/worry for too long, so here is the riveting end to our tale: we managed to locate a permanent marker, and armed with this, Brad tugged Ev's mattress from inside the canoe, wrote the words "PLEASE HELP" (keepsake!) on one side, and wedged it under the ratchet straps on the back of the trailer. For several minutes it was altogether unsuccessful, so it occurred to us to have a family prayer. We did, and then within less than a minute, three bikers stopped to help, then an SUV, then a car, then a van. With everyone's supplies gathered together, we were able to get the spare put on our trailer and back on the road for the final leg within 20 minutes.
We were going to stop in Banff for some leg-stretching play, but the kids got enough fun climbing the monstrous dirt hill which bordered the road and throwing rocks into the forest below, so we (as Brad likes to say) "gunned" it to Calgary, where we arrived, all told, at 9:00 instead of our intended 6:00. Children were in bed, left-overs were in the fridge, we felt exceptionally disappointed, but this is life.
Plus they pulled everything out and cooked us fresh burgers right then and there. The Kerns are amazing.
The lasting consequences of this mishap are that we decided we must not take any more chances and get new, stronger, larger, higher PSI tires (and a jack!), which meant that Brad would stay in Calgary all Sunday instead of travelling to Lethbridge with the family. I'm not sure who was more disappointed between my gramma and myself, since this also meant I had to take the Greyhound alone with my children for 3.25 hours, but my gramma keeps insisting that she will never see Brad again (presumably because she will die before she ever gets the chance. Good thing she believes in an afterlife or she'd be inconsolable).
Surprisingly I survived (although this experience has strengthened my resolve to dope Gavin up with Gravol before the plane), and the visit thus far has been quite nice. I even got to see my uncle Dwayne and his new fiancée (which is a big and exciting deal in my family) who travelled down from Calgary for the evening. Ev played with my young cousins till dusk, and the living room was loud and alive with the boisterous conversation of the adults. Tomorrow I go to the park with my sister and her best friend who has a daughter one day younger than Gavin, and it should be altogether pleasant once again.
I still don't feel like I'm moving, since mostly we have been visiting with friends and relatives. It's been good, and I hope it continues to be so.
Also I hope our little SUV that could makes it across this entire country! Here's hoping, and good luck husband!
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