Well, I finally did it.
Way back in August of 2011 when I was learning how to hitch and unhitch the Best Little Trailer and the Perfect Tow Vehicle, I saw this day coming.
As you know, certain little tasks need to be done when unhitching.
The safety chains, the breakaway cable, and the power cord are unhooked.
The hitch lock is unlocked and removed, and the lever lifted up.
The wheels are chocked.
The support post is cranked down into the cone in order to lift the coupler off of the hitch ball.
The PTV is moved forward and so on.
I see clearly what happens if one of the steps is skipped.
One of these days I’m going to forget to do that. And, sure enough, that’s what I did. Everything is going along swimmingly. (Now cut out the speed reading. You need to slow down and concentrate during this part.) I get to the point where I crank the support post down into the cone in order to lift the coupler off the hitch ball. Up comes the coupler, lifting the front end of the BLT.
In a millisecond I realize the coupler (and my entire home) is moving backwards. “Son of a b&%#!” I forgot to chock the wheels!
Instinctively I grab the crank post and lean in the opposite direction.
Which is pretty darn stupid, me against the entire weight of the Best Little Trailer!
Everything rolls backward a few inches and SLAM! The front end goes crashing down. The impact drives the support post about eight inches into the ground.
I’m stunned. There’s the Best Little Trailer with her nose pointed sadly down in the dirt.
“Well, now I’ve done it. I knew I’d do it someday, and sure enough, I did it. Yep, forgot to chock the wheels. Son of a b&%#.”
Once over the initial shock, I step back and look at my predicament and chuckle. At least now I’ve done it and I sure as hell won’t do it again.
With boards from the back of the PTV placed under the coupler, I crank up the support post enough to slide the cone under it. Then I crank up the coupler, back the hitch ball under it, and start all over again. This time with the wheels chocked!
Later I tell Rick what I did and he laughs.
“Oh, I’ve done that. In fact, I’ve done worse than that. One time I didn’t put the latch down (that holds the trailer’s coupler to the hitch ball).” I gasp. “Oh, no!”
“I go up and over Hoosier Pass in Colorado, drive for miles. I get on an overpass to get on the interstate. That’s when the trailer — I had a Burro then. Darn thing was heavy — The trailer pops right off the hitch and then one of the safety chains breaks. So there I am on this overpass . . . . ”
That night my mishap comes back to haunt me.
I wake up to a strange clicking sound. It’s the “check” light on the refrigerator clicking and flashing. Oh, the propane tank must be empty. I grab a flashlight, go outside, and open up the second tank. I come back inside, tell Bridget to go back to sleep, climb in bed, and fall asleep myself.
I wake up to a strange clicking sound.
It’s the “check” light on the refrigerator clicking and flashing. No, this is not an editing error. No, I’m not repeating myself due to senility. There is ANOTHER problem with the refrigerator.
I push buttons, turn it off and on, hoping for a reset to take place.
No good. Well, there isn’t much I can do in the middle of the night. I turn off the refrigerator and go back to bed.
Unpleasant scenarios torment me. Damn, I wonder if that crash damaged something. What if I have to tow the BLT to an RV repair place? Is there one in Ajo? I hate fooling with ice, pulling a dripping carton of milk out of an ice chest . . . Waiting for a part to arrive for the repair . . . Why didn’t I chock those wheels! Darnit. I hurt my nice fridge.
I force the thoughts out of my mind and go to sleep.
I wake slowly the next morning. I lie in bed while my mind bumbles around, traipsing over the past. I recall the dust storm we experienced when camped on Ogilby Road. Boy, that was some dust storm, dust . . . dust gets into everything.
I jump up, grab my keys, run outside, and in the first light of dawn use my key ring to open up the refrigerator panel.
I blow on the little igniter switch a few times. I go back in and turn on the fridge.
I run back out.
Click, click, click . . . Presto! The refrigerator is working!
Back inside, Bridget sticks her head out from under the covers. I know what that quizzical look on her face means.
“What in the world is that crazy woman laughing about at this hour?”