Posted in Celtic Events

So.  We went camping to Tucson for the weekend, for Jigger had an Irish Step Dancing competition to attend (at which Piper also competed in the minor music competition).  Now, we haven't camped in our lovely trailer since we lived in it when we moved here in 2004.  That's 4 YEARS.  For 4 YEARS it has sat in an RV storage facility, with the merciless Arizona summer sun beating down on it.  It was barely a year old when we stored it, but after living in it for three months with two boys, a husband, a dog, and 115 degree temps, silly 'ol me decided that I'd had enough of camping until I could get the *ugh* factor to dissipate.  So there it sat.

Until one day about two months ago, when my mom asked if they could borrow it to house her brother, who was coming to stay for a week.  Sure! we said.  No problem!  And then looked at each other in horror.  Because, c'mon, who were we kidding?  That trailer needed *work!*  In the past four years, it has been vandalized and stolen from, been through countless sand storms and monsoons, and has sat in the blistering sun day in and day out for 1,353 days.  And we had about two weeks to get it shored up and company-ready.  It took about 48 hours.  We were shocked.  We had it cleaned out, fixed up, and almost showroom-ready in 48 hours.  We were the (collective) man. 

So, when it came time to make a decision about lodging in Tucson for the feis, we were feeling pretty good and decided to finally begin camping with the trailer again.  We'd haul it the two hours south on Thursday and begin our leisurely 3 1/2 day weekend by mid-Thursday afternoon.  It would be wonderful.  A piece of cake.  Some much-needed family time.

Right.

We left about 4.30 p.m., with Mo Chroi drying off after a freak rain/wind storm popped up while we he was hooking up the trailer.  Two happy boys, one carsick dog, and two satisfied adults began the two hour drive down the back way to Tucson, because it's the shortcut.  Cuts off about 30-45 minutes.  What irony. 

About 5.45 p.m., my dearest husband and I look at each other in confusion after hearing a soft 'pop' come from outside the truck.  My dad's truck.  You just know this story is going to get better now, don't you? 

Me: "What was that?  Did you hear that?"

Him: "Yeah, I heard that.  It's nothing."

Prophetically, we begin to hear an abnormal sound.  While travelling down the most desolate stretch of highway.  There is nothing around.  N.O.T.H.I.N.G.

Me: "Okay, that's not nothing.  We have to pull over."

Him:  Ignoring me, concentrating on the road.  I secretly think he's in denial.

Me: "Did you hear me? (Because I'm assuming he's missing the panic in my voice, right?)"

Him:  "I heard you.  We'll pull over."

Thankfully, about 1/4 mile later we come around the corner to discover a huge dirt parking lot for an abandoned-looking old junk shop.  We pull in, jump out, and smell the burning.  I'm panicked now, because all I can think is:  we ruined Dad's truck.  We look at each other over the bed, and then silently bend over to look at each other under the truck.  Nothing.  Beginning to breathe a little easier, I straighten, and begin to walk down the trailer, where I see to my immense relief that we've only blown a tire on the trailer.  Blown is such a polite word.  It was shredded.  To tiny strips and threads.  Thankfully, it's a tandem axle (has two tires on each side), so the trailer was kept upright. 

Okay, I need to interject a science lesson here.  Picture four tires sitting in the sun, the hot-as-Hades Arizona sun, for 4 YEARS.  Pressure up, pressure down, extreme heat breaking down rubber.  End of SunDamagedTires101.

We are 30 minutes away from North Tucson, still about 45 minutes from our resort.  It's 6.30 p.m. by the time we have unhooked the trailer, jacked it all the way up to get the tire off, and start off down the road.  Only to find out (by calling ahead) that the tire places close at 7 p.m. 

Here I'll spare you the tension, shortness, and anxiety-ridden silence of the next 35 minutes (you're welcome).  Suffice it to say that we pulled into the tire shop 10 minutes past the time they closed, and the boys and I (and dog, too, I like to think), prayed copiously for kindness as my husband caught the three men exiting the building after closing.  Because you know what the alternative was, right?  Staying in that trailer, all night, in the middle of N.O.W.H.E.R.E. until they opened the next morning.  I actually teared up when one of the men jumped in the back of the truck to get the tire and the other two walked back to the building.  May God bless them always.

Anyway, to cut through the rest of the night, after all was said and done and we crawled into bed (in the resort) at 11.30 that night, 6 hours after our adventure began, my husband looked at me and said, with a half-grin, "three-hour tour."  I fell in love with that man all over again as I laughed so hard the trailer shook. 

All in all, it was a lovely weekend.  Piper took second in the music competition (please excuse the quality of photos; I could give you a thousand excuses, but the truths are: 1- I was lazy when I took them, and 2- I'm not Alyssa.  But I don't feel so bad since she likes my pictures anyway. True story.).  He did great!

Jigger advanced in one of his six dances (you have to advance through 6 levels overall, and you have to do it for each and every dance), kicked butt in a couple of others, and brought home one award and two medals.  Great showing!

We swam, we walked, we talked, we played, we spent time with my parents who pulled their bus motorhome down, we had a lovely time.  And on the way home yesterday, you just know what happened, right?  SDT101.  Yep, another tire blew.