Please indulge me with a horrifying bit of humor for the mind. Although Halloween was yesterday, as I write, we are technically still in Halloween night. The sun has yet to rise here in the Northwestern Nevadan Desert. Things are still creepy and eery outside. The perfect setting for the story of ……………. The Rat.
It was just a year ago. VST and I had made a trip to the Central Coast in the rig. He was already acting a bit different, and I really personalized all the reasons that could be. We never expected there was a physical reason for the changes we both felt. I worried that we had entered a “30+ year curse” in which so many couples of our age found themselves. VST was clammy quiet, but worried about everything.
VST’s favorite gadget was his Garmin navigation tools, having one in each vehicle. He would punch in every waypoint we intended on visiting, and home, as well. I sat in silent, hateful judgement of wires. I despise unsightly wires. He would drape them like party streamers, until I finally just kept my disgust to myself. Behind his desk were balls of wires, all intertwined and covered with dust. They ran under his desk, between the television command center, and sometimes, right through the room.
On the dash of the RV, wires ran for the Blue Ox Braking system to the Jeep, following behind us. The satellite radio system had its own set of very long wires bringing us Willie’s Road House. Even the hand’s free phone system in the RV had wires. The Garmin completed this spaghetti-fied mess. I did my best to wrap and separate them until I decided I needed to contemplate why they bothered me so much. Probably a deeper psychological problem best left for another day.
When we arrived at our favorite coastal RV park the next day , we discovered that we had finally been awarded SPOT 1. Now, let me explain. SPOT 1 is the premium spot of the entire park. You are welcome to Google “Bella Vista by the Sea, Cayucos, Ca”. SPOT 1 is at the front of the park, with only a road and empty lot separating the camper from the entire magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean. SPOT 1 is the desire of all the other spots at this RV Park. It is randomly awarded based on empty status and your arrival date and time. We finally, after three years, hit it right. SPOT 1.
I happily set up shop, while VST worked on hoses for water, and other things. More cords were inserted from plug to rig. Our satellite dish brought us Larame, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, and Channel 2 news from home. I set out hamburger to defrost, and in under an hour, we were living in SPOT 1. VST was still a ball of nerves after the long drive and offered to take Oliver for a walk on the pier. Ollie never turned down a walk, and off they went. VST with his braces, cowboy hat, and cane, and one very happy little dog. I can see them now on their jaunty way. Jaunty–expressing a lively, cheerful, self-confident manner. Boy does that word fit. I always smiled when I saw them head for the pier, which was right outside our window. Did I mention we were in SPOT 1?????????
That evening, VST started worrying in earnest. There was a storm on the horizon. A bad one. The first of the season. Although Cayucos was unbothered, the Eastern Sierras and Northwestern Nevada would be hit hard. High winds. Snow. We could be trapped like the Donner Party. The storm was predicted for the day after our plans would take us home. THE DAY AFTER!!!! Nestled into SPOT 1, it was a restless night of tossing and turning.
May I interject. VST and I had an ongoing difference about living in the moment. No matter how he tried, and try he did, VST could not enjoy the peaceful nature of an “in the moment” experience. He was always “HOPING FOR THE FUTURE AND WORRYING ABOUT THE PAST”, in Joni’s words. This could be so frustrating when driving through miles on U.S Route 395, through some of the most beautiful scenery in the entire US with antlered elk grazing along the road. VST would be mind-locked in worries about weather two weeks away.
On our first beach morning, breakfast was lacking energy. It was as if the miracle of SPOT 1 had an energy drain to it. The day was full of distractions and more weather talk. I was finding the trip tedious and stress producing, so I turned to my novel and the sunshine on the entire lawn we enjoyed because we had been given SPOT 1. Other campers would walk by with looks of disgust, thinking we had purchased our way into heaven. A couple actually stopped to ask how they could reserve such a spot. VST just worked Weather Bug with a worried face, noting the the predictions for the storm had been moved up. The storm would begin in 32 hours.
Moving the rig from VC to Cayucos and back involved four days, two going, two coming, and 1,200 miles of gas and money. It involved going over Tehachapi and Montgomery passes. It involved at least two RV parks, and lots of patience. It also involved 20 hours of driving on VST’s part. My point being, going to Cayucos was a commitment we liked to make for 10 days. Otherwise, the trip was just to involved.
The next morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, VST was looking into them.
“Honey, we need to leave tomorrow morning. As early as possible. The storm is huge.”
“Okay.” It was all that I could come up with at that moment.
When preparing to leave, I like to have a few hours ahead to slowly repack the rig and savour the memories made. So, Oliver and VST left for their walk and I started to bag laundry, and do a bit of cleaning to make negative energy productive. They returned sooner than I had expected.
“Honey, if we’re leaving tomorrow, can we leave today at noon?”
There were just no words. Use your imagination at my frustration and his hopefulness all rolled into one at this very moment.
I am a creature of habit, majorly OCD about some things. The rig was ready to go in no time, without my little routines included. With my irritation and his desire to get on the road, it actually went rather quickly. We were driving down the road to home around noon. On Hwy. 46, to Hwy. 41, to the road to Wasco, towards Bakersfield and beyond. I was looking at my phone. No longer in the moment, I was trying to divert angry steam to some sort of useful energy. Possible new Keto recipes? Christmas decorating tips? New emails?
When.
I.
Saw.
It.
THE. RAT.
YES. A FULL SIZED NORWEGIAN ROOF RAT.
SITTING ON OUR BEAUTIFUL DASH. WITH BLOOD COMING FROM THE NOSE.
STARING AT ME. IN THE EYES.
Horrified, I turned to see VST had seen it at exactly the same time I had. He was now looking just as horrified. My first thought was of his cat-like reflexes. He could jump to grab it, thereby causing our rig to roll out of control and wreck. We were both frozen and fixated on this creature from hell. Still traveling at 55 mph+, VST didn’t move, but pulled off at the service station found at the next intersection, driving us to the back of the lot. The rat didn’t move. Like a laser through my skull, his beady little eyes never let his gaze drift from mine. It just sat there staring at me.
“What do you have to remove it?” VST quietly asked, still clutching the steering wheel.
I found the following. A pan lid and a wooden spoon. He could slide the rodent onto the lid and whisk it out of the rig. VST could do this. He was the man of the moment and capable of such acts of heroism.
The door opened, with a swish, whisk, whoosh, and “OH #$$%^^^$$”, he missed. The rat didn’t. And was now hiding under my seat. The terror increased.
VST didn’t waver in his resolve.
“Don’t worry, Darlin. We’re going to WalMart for supplies.” And off we went.
Our trip to WalMart was straight from Comedy Central. Of course, no one there could have known the problem we were desperate to fix. We bought the following. Large, long cuffed, impenetrable, fireproof, leather gloves intended for cleaning out fireplace ashes. BBQ tongs of the extended variety, shiny spikes for grabbing meat on the ends. An exceptionally large rat trap. A smaller glue filled variety, which caused much debate about the cruelty of being stuck in glue, versus having your neck snapped instantly. One mirror on a stick, created for looking under automobiles. And, a bag of peanut M & M’s. Because, every one of our endeavors went better when we shared a bag of peanut M & M’s.
We went with purpose across the vast parking lot. Both deeply entrenched in the moment. Our ROCKY moment. Our moment of victory against a lowly rat. Our moment of complete partnership towards one end goal. Elimination of the rat in the most efficient and humane way possible.
Upon entering the rig, the silence was deafening. Oliver did not make a whimper. Nor did he ever “RAT OUT” the intruder through its entire tenure in our rolling home. We would speak about this, he and I, after the resolution of the problem at hand.
My seat was checked with the extended mirror. NO RAT. (NR)
The couch was checked. NR. Under the table. NR. Behind the Bed. NR. Under the Bed. NR. Under the frig. NR.
The last place it could be was in the bathroom. Slowly, gently, quietly, we stood. Tongs in one gloved hand. VST crouched. Ready to attack. I slowly opened the door. Ever. So. Slowly……….. And……… Then ……… I …………… Saw……… It………. And………..
SSSSSSSCCCCCCRRREEEEEEAAAAAAAMMMMMEEED.
VST SWOOPPEDGRABBEDRANANDFLUNGTHESQUEALINGRATOUTOFTHERIG.
A more perfectly executed athletic manuever I have never witnessed in my life. We embraced, nearly in tears. The threat had been eliminated and we needed to get out of dodge. We were in California. There could be a RAT RESCUE group and we could be arrested for WHATEVER. It is California, folks.
The trip home was less tense. VST was definitely in the moment after that. The tension and anger of the earlier morning was gone as we relived the moment in laughter. For the tiniest time, the present outweighed the coming storm. It was one of our funniest and finest moments, never knowing it was next to the last time I would be his wingman on some fantastical journey taken by us. VST, are forever my hero. A shrine is almost finished in the garage to honor the day you took HERO to an entirely new level.