Now what?

John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans.”    We have a picture of this quote written in graffiti in our camper, it’s become a little motto for us.  After all, we don’t know what’s going to happen on an adventure; that’s why we do them. We try to put the odds in our favor by preparing, having a good plan, good companions, being safe, and having a little knowledge about what we’re getting into.  Each time we open that door there’s the possibility of the sublime awaiting you, or the genuine meanness of life slamming it back in your face—in other words, “shit happens.”    I remember being told as a young man that it’s not what happens but rather how you respond to it that defines you.  I don’t remember who said this, and she or he was probably quoting someone else, but it made an impact on me and I’ve tried to live by it.

Last Thursday, we had one of those moments when it all goes horribly wrong.  As we were driving toward the Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario, we were struck by another vehicle on the highway.  Shari was in the driver’s seat and she was trying to turn around so she could take a picture of a pretty view back down the road about a half a mile.  She found a good, wide place to pull into, signaled, slowed down and started to make her left hand turn.   The van, hauling ass (over 65 mph when he hit us), tried to pass the car behind us, in addition to our trailer and truck, when we slowed to make the turn.  Witnesses said that he’d been passing many other cars in the last few miles, trying to get ahead.  Did I mention it was raining and the 2 lane highway’s speed limit was 55?  He collided with our driver’s side front end, tearing off the front wheel, axle, and just about every piece of plastic on the front grill.  We came skidding to a stop on 3 wheels, some how completely out of the lane of oncoming traffic.  Thanks goodness for small miracles, right?  I’m grateful for whatever urged me to look over my shoulder and Shari’s fast reflexes when I yelled, “Watch out!”  Another meter into our turn and this story could have a much, much bleaker outcome.  Both we and the other driver are just fine, and mostly uninjured.  The Truck?  Well, that remains to be seen.

Our Insurance company is on the job and we vacillate between hope for a good outcome and fear of cost and consequences, but mostly we land somewhere in gratitude.  The irony is not lost on us that this was the Thanksgiving holiday weekend in Canada.

     

The truck, Buck, remains at the tow lot awaiting his prognosis and fate.  I know it is perhaps overly sentimental to feel this way about a vehicle we’ve only had since February, but I love this truck.  I love “him” like a member of our expedition – he’s part of the team!   Is it too much to say that you love your truck the way a sailor loves his or her ship?  I mean no one questioned Capt Kirk’s love of the Enterprise, even when he was pushing her to Warp 9.  Jean Luc-Picard wasn’t called “sentimental” for feeling pride in his ship while going toe to toe with the Borg?  And that’s the way I feel about out Buck.  He’s become a worthy ship.   We’ve put a lot of time, energy and a few greenbacks into this truck and I loathe the idea of abandoning him to northern Ontario with winter coming on.   Maybe I’m just too optimistic (my default setting), or perhaps I’m just too sentimental (guilty), or is it that I just don’t like to give up on something / someone that I’ve grown to love, but I don’t want to leave him here.  So, we sit and wait for our insurance company to tell us what’s next.  Patience is something I said I wanted to work on while we were on this adventure, careful what you wish for…eh?

 Our camper and everything we grabbed from the truck, was towed to a campground, half motel half trailer park in the city of North Bay, on the banks of Lake Nipissing.  We were a pretty sad sight, being hauled in by an ugly tow truck as the rain came down in the gray twilight.  We drew the local residents out as we came in, busted truck on the flatbed with a vintage but unharmed 12 foot trailer in tow.  Most are Canadian snowbirds preening their large trailers and 5^th wheels for the annual flight south -- Arizona, Florida and other parts less Canadian for the winter.  They have been extremely nice and offered assistance in any way they can, rides to the grocery, rides to the towing yard, and other essential needs.  I am very grateful for their generosity and I hope to pass it along someday.

 

The thought to which I keep returning throughout all of this is; “Shari is unharmed.”   In her seat, she could have received the full force of that van’s momentum if she had continued into the turn, rather than turning back quickly.  While it’s tempting to remain academic about this, question the little decisions which lead us to the moment and this place, weigh out the physics of such a collision, replay the “what ifs” over and over and over until I’m just sick of it.  When I go to my heart and really feel the more dire possible endings to this chapter of our adventure, I am overwhelmed with relief and gratitude.  It is one thing to know that these collisions occur every second of each day all over the world and lives change in the few heartbeats it takes to turn a vehicle, it’s another to be a part of it, to experience it, to taste the awfulness of those moments as they linger on your tongue even as you know that you just got away lucky.  

We’ll know more about the truck in a few days, but really it’s not about the truck is it?