Highway Adventure

Our time in California was over, and we were leaving Indian Hills Camp after two months there.  We had left the crazy-busy freeways of southern California behind us, and were heading north-east to Barstow.  Near there, we hoped to camp at an RPI campground, a membership park in a camping organization we belong to.  We weren't supposed to arrive early, but were ahead of schedule.
"Now what do we do?" I asked.
"Let's stop at Calico."  It was a tiny dot on the map, a ghost town.  We'd seen lots of ghost towns, but it was something to do. We soon found out it wasn't an abandoned, crumbling ghost town like Rhyolite, that we'd briefly stopped at near Death Valley.  This was a full-blown tourist attraction charging admission at the gate.

Parking Baby B. on a slope near the other cars, we joined the people straggling up Main St.  The only large group there was a busload of French speaking tourists. (They didn't recognize that the "Restroom" sign really meant "toilettes".)

 You get the idea what kind of place this was, a booming town during the California gold rush.

Returning back to our parking spot after exploring for two hours, Terry made his usual inspection by walking around the trailer.  He looked at Baby B's tires.  Uh-oh, FLAT!  We thought we'd missed those boards on the freeway. Large nails stuck up from one of the two boards that lay right in the middle of our lane.
"Don't drive over them!"  I had yelled. Terry swung over to the left, but still managed, Thump, thump, to hit one of the boards.
"There was a car right beside me; I couldn't get over far enough," he told me later.

Twenty pounds of pressure in the two tires on the right, instead of fifty.
While I heated up some soup for lunch, Terry was already thinking of taking the tires off.
"Wouldn't AAA cover this?"  I asked.  We hadn't used this insurance coverage before.  Despite the fact Terry's cell phone didn't have coverage for the States, we used it anyway. This was an emergency. Many minutes later plans were made, and we settled in to wait a couple of hours for the tow truck to arrive.  Terry read his book, and I worked on the letter I was writing to my aunt.  At least it wasn't hot out, and we were out of the wind.
Finally at 5:00 pm, a smiling young man with "Arnando" embroidered on the pocket of his coveralls arrived with a big flat deck trailer.

after  three hours, the tires looked worse

Baby B. was winched up and strapped on while I snapped pictures and looked for cool rocks by the side of the road.Then we followed the tow truck to the recommended tire shop.

Riding off into the sunset

"Where's a good place to eat?" we asked the receptionist.  Soon we were ordering at Denny's, which happened to be at a Flying J truck stop.
"Is it OK to stay in your parking lot overnight?"
The clerk seemed surprised that I even asked.
"Of course.  Just park over by those other RV's."
After picking up Baby B. and FOUR new tires (might as well replace them all, Terry thought), that's just what we did.
Free campground, but an expensive day.  By the way, I had a good sleep, and 6 degrees C in the morning felt warmer than the same temperature back in Indian Hills.  Welcome to the desert!

Jesus said, here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.  John 16:33b