Should We Stay or Should We Go Now?

How do you know when you're ready to plunge into a new adventure? 

Over the past two months, as our RV delivery date came and went, as battery issues required a special technician to fly down from Michigan, as we had to revise our trip plan, these were the questions we came back to. The last three days have been filled with testing systems, installing some custom mods, and packing the van.  

Our original vision was that we would spend four or five weeks testing things, checking fits, maybe returning to the dealer for a quick fix if necessary, and ordering any little extras we might need. Having three days instead of weeks made that impossible. If anything was wrong, we would have to fix it on the spot or live with it. 

...And guess what? The radio/phone Bluetooth/satellite system/van monitoring display doesn't work right. 

Is that a dealbreaker? Is it a sign of more critical problems to come, evidence of a lemon? Or is it a small annoyance that we can fix when we get back from the trip? When you're feeling frustrated already, something like a radio that keeps returning to the same useless screen can make you want to stab the display with a screwdriver.  

In the end, we decided we could live with playing music over the "house" sound system rather than the cab, and a broken radio didn't have to mean the death of our trip. Here's hoping that's the last issue and we don't need to use any of the multiple emergency roadside assistance numbers. Here's hoping for only the fun kind of adventures, and not the kind that ends, "three days later, the tow truck arrived..."

My father believed most life experiences could be judged by the quality of the story you took away from them. And my best vacation stories are all about things that went wrong. 

Like the time high winds kept us from taking the telepherique across the Alps from Chamonix, and we ended up waiting for a bus at a tiny hotel on the Grand St. Bernard Pass, right at the border between Switzerland and Italy. We visited with the local bartender, sampled grappa, made it to Aosta by evening, and kept a wonderful memory. 

Or the time in New Zealand when a landslide trapped us on what was supposed to be—no, not a three-hour tour—an overnight boat tour. We ended up staying on a chilly fjord for an extra day and night, meeting some wonderful people. Then we had the chance to fly out on a 6-seater sightseeing plane to catch up with our other reservations. What a view! Lifting away from the blue fjord where we had kayaked with penguins, we rose over steep green valleys between razor-edged granite peaks. From ground level, Queenstown had reminded me of Vail, but from the air, the area looked more like the Alps. 

Paul in the co-pilot's seat, flying out of Milford Sound, NZ

If life doesn't stick to the spreadsheet, maybe we'll miss out on the original plan but have an even better adventure. I'm game! Just so long as we get a good story out of it. 

We pull out tomorrow morning, armed with manuals, tools, duct tape, and four different emergency roadside assistance numbers. Wish us luck!

--Elena