HansRygXit Day 8

Barb: So one of my all-time favorite movies is the 1985 Swedish film by Lasse Hallstrom  "My Life as a Dog". It's a sweet story of a young boy named Ingemar, who suffers a series of tragedies and setbacks, but manages to keep things in perspective because, as he says, "You have to compare". Things could always get worse, he supposes. At least he has not been relegated to the fate of poor Laika, the dog that the Russians sent up into space orbit all alone in a rocket ship. 

And so it goes. As it turns out, the mechanic in Ft. St. John says we not only need new brake calipers, which the shop in Ft. Nelson had said were fine, it turns out that we also need new rear brakes, and a water pump. Ka-ching, Ka-ching. The RV repair bills are up to about $2,000 Canadian now, or $1520 U.S. (which only makes me wonder if Lance should have started a go-fund me page rather than a blog, but I digress..)  But it could have been worse, I suppose. You have to compare. Had we not noticed the burning brakes on the way past Ft. St. John yesterday, we would not have stopped and turned back, and would not have noticed that we were rapidly losing engine coolant. In all probability, we would have ended up stranded halfway to Dawson Creek, and might have blown up the engine in the process. And, of course, Tilly would not have enjoyed yet another night of kitty hotel luxury, this time in the Versailles of Ft. St. John. 

"Did you call for my room service yet?.."

When we drove over to the small repair shop this morning to drop off the Roadtrek, another customer was talking to the owner. When we described our problem, he said (in a strong Canadian accent) "Eh, there, are YOU them folks I was readin' about on the facebook page? I was just tellin' 'im about  you's". Yes, we were, in fact, them folks. In desperation at the prospect of spending 7 days in Ft. Nelson (pop 3300) waiting for our initial brake repair job, I had joined the "Ft. St. John Man Cave" Facebook Group, where the locals buy/sell/trade, rant, etc about all things manly, presumably while wearing lots of buffalo plaid flannel and thick wool socks, but where "women talk and 'avon-kind of stuff for sale' is NOT allowed!", gosh darn it! We were suddenly local celebrities. I had been shocked by how many comments and offers of help we had gotten on the "Man Cave" group in response to my plea for someone to pick up and drop off a Napa part on their way to Ft. Nelson. And now here we were with our own newly-minted "Man Cave" page celebrity status, 200 miles down the road in yet another repair shop, where the owner happened to be a good friend of the Ft. Nelson's shop's owner. (should we be getting suspicious about all these auto-maintenance shops in "the family"?) 

So as we wait yet another day for the van to be repaired, and walk, and walk, and walk Rosie around the little burb of Ft. St. John, I can only wonder if all the frustrations we've had over the past year with "The House from Hell that Would Not Sell" in Anchorage might not have been for the better in retrospect. Had we sold back in November (to the first buyer who backed out), or in January (to the second), or in March, (3rd), we would have unwittingly been barreling down the Alcan in -40F temperatures and occasional whiteout ground blizzards with bad brakes, a dying water pump, and (as Lance luckily noticed and repaired before we left in June) a generator that wasn't working. And while we surely could have bought a very nice NEW RV for the $90,000 I lost on the house sale from hell, it's good to keep things in perspective, and remember to thank our lucky stars that we're at least not Russian Space Dogs, cruelly cast out into the cosmos on a long one-way journey. Life is good.

We are hoping to get out of Ft. St. John by early afternoon today, through Dawson Creek to somewhere near Edmonton by tonight. The Canadians we've met so far have been incredibly helpful and accommodating, and the garage is making our RV their first priority, though they're plenty busy. So with a shout-out to all the amazing Canucks along the way, and with Johnny Cash's timeless classic "One Piece at a Time" earworm-ing on a loop in our heads, it's down the road again to the next adventure. (May it please be not be automotive in nature!)

A couple of Ft. St. John's OTHER hotel options...