Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Travel Tails

Will go Wrong

The kidlets had been thrilled to ride the rocking chair, and to hear the truckers talk to us as well. Now that we were in the well-lit truck stop parking lot, we needed to find a quiet spot to park where I could check and repair the lights. I hoped for a spot without running semi engines where the horse could relax and the kids could hopefully sleep. I did find a corner away from running trucks, but it was an extremely packed lot. As for quiet, that was little but a wishful thought. We’d ended up almost right beside the Indianapolis Speedway. The sounds of huge horsepower filled the air and drowned out any sound of running, big rigs. It had been a very long day. We were tired and hungry. I decided we would grab a bite to eat before I started on the lights. It wasn’t as if we were going to carry on to our destination anyway, and it was easier to work when one’s stomach isn’t angrily grumbling. We watered and fed Essy, who was surprisingly relaxed, then went to feed our own bellies.
After a good meal, we headed back out to the trailer. The lights and figuring out wiring still patiently waited for me, and there was no point in putting it off. There was no point in all of us staying up, so little sweetpea went off to bed. Though we would be right behind the camper van, I still made sure that she locked all the doors. I had the keys in my pocket, and one can’t be too careful in a strange place. The boychild held the flashlight for me, and I got to work. Many are intimidated by vehicle wiring, yet it’s rather simple. I knew that the lights were all working on the van, so it wasn’t the problem. The issue had to be in the wiring right at the back of the van, in the harness that connected one to the other. I knew what I had to do, and I started with cutting away the connecting ends. With the running lights of the van on, I proceeded to make sure that there was power in each of the wires by touching each to a single trailer wire and seeing if a light came on. As the hitch of the trailer was a big part of grounding the electrical system, I ran a wire from metal on the van to metal on the trailer. One by one, I found the wires that corresponded.
The boychild was my gopher. Go for this, go for that, and he was happy to run back and forth to change signals lights on the van and eventually press the brakes. He was hubby’s mechanical helper and a big boy for his age. Though only a year and a half separated them, he towered over sweetpea. When they were teens, she used to say that he had two of her inches, and she wanted them back. Anyway, though we worked on the wiring until three in the morning, the roar of big engines on the Indianapolis Raceway next door filling the air, they didn’t want to work properly. Every wire was connected to the corresponding mate, yet when it was all done, it suddenly refused to work. It was the wee hours and I was exhausted.
“Well,” sighing and groaning as I stood and stretched sore muscles, I rubbed the back of my aching neck and shrugged in defeat, “I guess we’ll have to work on it in the morning again. Let’s check on Essy and get some sleep.”
“Okay mom,” thrilled by the sounds of the race cars, he was wishing his father was with us, and that they could watch the race. It was the first thing he and sweetpea said when they realized where we were. Their dad loved racing, and it would’ve been a dream for him to be there. He wasn’t worried about the wiring. We would work on it again in the morning, and we’d get it going. There was no doubt about it. Surprisingly, the black filly was actually sleeping. I had taken the divider out, and she was lying down in the deep straw. Apparently the loud noises didn’t bother her at all. In fact, she appeared a bit surprised that we would check in on her. Well, it was time for us to try to sleep as well. As the boychild climbed up into their bed and I fell onto mine, I was appreciative of how great my kids were. They rarely complained, were willing to help and learn, and we could count on them to do their best. In all the hours I worked on the wiring, he hadn’t said a word of complaint, not a one.
Waking early, because it wasn’t possible to sleep longer anyway, not with all the roaring engine sounds, we dragged ourselves out of the camper and took care of the filly, breakfast for us as well, then back at the light issue. There was no way of avoiding it. I had to figure it out, end of story. Funnily enough, when we went back to the camper after breakfast, the boy hopped into the driver’s seat, put the key into the ignition so the lights would work and pulled the light knob. Just like that, all the lights came on, all of them, including every single trailer light. I don’t know what a few hours of rest did to change the situation, but every light was bright and strong. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, we hit the road again. Essy’s owners were impatiently waiting for us to arrive, and I could tell when I had called that they were concerned about us. It was time to get this delivery made.
As we pulled out of the lot, the kidlets listened to the truckers chatting on the cb radio. Some had parked their rigs so that they could climb atop their trailers to watch the race. They set up lawn chairs and had their coolers all set for the day. Obviously, this wasn’t their first time. They were prepared. Again, the kids wished their dad was with them. At least they had a good story to tell when we got home again.
The rest of the way was completely uneventful. We arrived at Essy’s new home to be greeted by a family who was happy to see all of us. Though the kids were pumped and ready to enjoy the day, I wasn’t so much. The vitality and resilience of youth that pumped through their veins had left me sometime around two in the morning. I needed to sleep. Thankfully, they understood and I was able to lie down and sleep off my exhaustion. I woke much later to find the kids had enjoyed a wonderful day, the van and trailer had been washed and supper was ready to enjoy.
Selling horses is hard, yet when one of the horses you’ve raised goes to a wonderful home, it’s a great thing. They were the loveliest family, and we enjoyed every bit of the short time we stayed with them. Oh, and they loved their new horse as well. Maneline Midnight Express, had a perfect home.

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB