WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
“When it rains it pours” is a phrase repeated surrounding tough days, but last week just felt like a wave camp collapsing down right on top of us. Rough nights of sleep are never a great start, but a week of it is just pure torture. No one thinks clearly after that. But then like a plague- bus problems… again. We hear weird noises, a hauntingly nasty purr and the engine roars unnecessarily- another day, another problem. Back to the internet or should I say a lost vortex of no solutions, just questions, with only pessimistic commentary to cheer us on.
Then, only for the plot to thicken, we realize our ladder broke at some point and my toolbox has been stolen off the back carrier in the Starbucks parking lot. Could it get any worse? Tired, stuck in a shitty town, on a shitty day.. Where do we go from here? All we can conjure up for the moment is ‘lets get out of this town.’
That was an excerpt from a week ago or so. We have since regained our joy and hope. It turns out the bus is ok, and we are still rolling. It is moments like these when bus life feels really hard and when throwing in the towel seems like a viable option. But it is also where the rubber meets the road, where you really start to see who you are and what you are made of. This is where the core of who you are is challenged, pushed, maybe even molded. Its moments like these that either bring together or tear apart, it questions your manhood and your will to push on. But we signed up for this- we wanted to be challenged, to push ourselves, and to discover new things about ourselves. We’re grateful for wise, calm father-in-laws who keep our heads on and our “we can do this” spirits high. We’ve since left the beautiful sunny California and all its stunning diverse landscape, and headed for the pacific northwest where apparently it rains- all. the. time. But we are none the less pleased to be moving onto new places and wetter dwellings.