What was supposed to be a five-hour travel day turned into a nine-hour, wet sock saga. Complete with fuel fiascos, forehead collisions, Instant Pot mishaps, and the kind of chaos only RV life can deliver. 🎉
It all started the night before when I jokingly told Kelly, “If I wake up at 5:30, I’m going to be in a bad mood.”
Apparently, the universe heard me and thought “Let’s make it 4:30 instead.”
So I was up before the sun, grumpy and groggy. Kicking off the day on fumes, literally and emotionally.
To make it even better, I couldn’t take a normal shower because of the three stitches I got in my foot the Sunday before. That meant Kelly had to help me wrap and maneuver around the water like some kind of awkward RV acrobat routine. Real relationship bonding, right?
Drenched Before We Drove
From the moment we stepped outside, it was cold, windy, and nonstop rain. We tried to keep our humor intact while hitching up, but it was the kind of rain that soaks you to your core.
By the time we finished hooking up, our shoes were squishing, our clothes clinging, and we hadn’t moved an inch. It already felt like we’d gone three rounds with Mother Nature. We were so soaked that we had to go back into the rig and change into completely dry clothes before even starting the drive.
Once we were finally dressed (again) and loaded up into our vehicles, I took the lead in Billie and Kelly followed behind in Moxie.
In our rush to hit the road, we completely forgot that we’d left the awning out about a foot to keep the doorway dry while loading. About a mile down the road, Kelly spotted it—the awning was still extended. Unfortunately, our app locks out the awning controls once the truck is in motion, so I had to pull over, jump out in the rain, and carefully scramble back into the rig without slipping or getting completely drenched just to bring it in manually. Just one more laughable moment in a day full of them.
Not long after, we got back on the road and Kelly took the lead in Moxie. A few miles in, I watched her hydroplane through pooled water on the highway. Her tires skipped slightly before catching again. And it happened three separate times. They were the kind of moments that instantly tighten your chest. Definitely not the calm, casual roll-out we’d hoped for.
Fuel Fiasco x 5
We were about 3.5 hours into the drive when we hit our first fuel stop—a huge station with just three diesel pumps tucked into the middle of a tollway. It took over an hour and a half just to inch our way up to the pump. And then… my card didn’t work.
No swipe, no tap, no chip.
I told the attendant, “Hey, I’ve had this happen before—I can call and get manual approval.”
She cut me off. “We don’t do that. You need to either move your vehicle or we’ll call the police.”
I blinked. “Ma’am, I have no fuel.”
“Then you better find a way, or you’re going to need to leave.”
That was fuel stop #1.
Fuel stop #2? Didn’t exist. Our diesel fuel discount program must have had an error and led us to a supposed station that turned out to be absolutely nothing—just a bare intersection surrounded by farmland.
Fuel stop #3? Google got us close. We could see the fuel pumps just beyond a locked gate—so close it felt like a joke. Turns out, the road Google Maps directed us down was actually a DOT service entrance—restricted access and not open to the public—even though it connected directly to the fuel station. I could’ve thrown a rock and hit the diesel pump, but we had no way to legally or physically reach it.
By this point I was done. Frazzled. We’d wasted hours and had nothing to show for it. So I just drove. I told Kelly, “We’re going to find a station… or we’re going to run out.” Nothing like a birthday adrenaline rush, right?
Fuel stop #4? It technically existed—but had no diesel, and even if it did, we wouldn’t have fit under the awning anyway. At that point, it just felt like fuel roulette.
Fuel stop #5? Finally, a Wawa with diesel that we fit into. Sweet, glorious diesel. Over three hours later, we miraculously coasted in just in time and put 32.015 gallons into our 32-gallon tank. That’s cutting it closer than I’d like to admit, but we could finally breathe a little easier.
Bruised Heads and Instant Pot Mishaps
Somewhere in all that stress, both Kelly and I managed to hit our heads—multiple times. RV life means low ceilings, sharp corners, and bad timing. Kelly ended up with a pounding headache that stuck with her all day, likely exacerbated by the stress.
When we finally arrived at our site around 7:00 PM, it was still raining. Setting everything up soaked us all over again. The tight site was wedged awkwardly between two trees, but we quickly got connected with minimal setup: just power and water.
Then we brought the kids inside and unloaded everything from both vehicles. By the time we were done, Kelly and I were freezing—it was 55 degrees with the wind cutting through us, and we were dripping wet. Into the shower we went, while the kids did their best to organize the chaos we’d hastily tossed inside.
They really were rockstars.
Reagan noticed the backseat mess earlier in the day and just handled it. The boys stayed calm and helpful all day long.
Have I mentioned how amazing our kids are? We really are so thankful for them.
When we got out of the shower, it hit us—we hadn’t even thought about dinner. Totally unplanned.
We scrounged the fridge and threw together some tacos with ground beef, chorizo, and shredded chicken. It would’ve been quick—except we didn’t realize the frozen chicken had one of those absorbent meat pads stuck to the bottom. That added another 20 minutes as we salvaged what we could and triple-checked that nothing sketchy made it into the Instant Pot.
At that point, it was 9 PM.
We were tired.
We were cold.
We were finally fed.
And Kelly? She passed out fast.
But Here’s the Thing…
We laughed.
Not because it was funny at the time—but because sometimes you just have to. You can’t get mad about a day like this. You breathe, you move forward, and you remind yourself it’s all part of the story.
Because at the end of it all…
It was still my 40th birthday. 🎂
Not exactly the milestone I imagined. But hey, at least it was memorable.
And we made it.
Soggy, bruised, tired… but still laughing.
Because tomorrow is a new day.
And today? Was one heck of a story.
