Whoever said ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade,’ I want to find that person, and punch him in the mouth.
In other words, I’m not one of those people who keeps smiling when things don’t go my way.
So when the transmission locked up at about mile 2,300 and the truck seized and sputtered but failed to accelerate without stalling, I wasn’t making no lemonade. I was quite bugged, in fact.
Here’s the (kind of) short version: we needed a transmission rebuild, and the part was coming from Denver (where we just came from, sigh). So we rented a U-Haul to tow the trailer to a campsite, then returned it and rented a car, drove 12 hours round trip to meet Jason’s sister who had driven part of the way to deliver the part, and returned to Omaha to the campsite, where we would have to post up until truck was finished at the transmission shop.
Within the hour of the truck’s grand mal seizure, Jason already had a dozen reasons why it was all ‘really not that bad,’ which grates me even more. Can’t I mourn the fact that things haven’t gone according to plan for a little bit longer?
It’s now Thursday and we are playing the waiting game. At about 7 am I awake to a crack of thunder so loud, I half expect the trailer to split and burst into flames.
I should remind you that I am from Southern California. We treat thunderstorms with the same childlike glee that we would Disneyland, or Christmas.
As I lay under my covers with the rain drumming overhead, everything trembling with thunderous lightning, and light playing across the walls like a black and white movie, it occurs to me: I have nowhere to be today.
Later, I step outside with my chin tilted heavenward and stick out my tongue. I can’t help but notice that the rain tastes a little like lemonade.