I was spending a few days in Portsmouth, New Hampshire with my friend Mitchell. There was a bridge that led to a cute little Island called Pierce Island, and that’s where we parked our buses. I enjoyed eating my meals outside facing the water, pretending I had this fancy little island all to myself.
I was enjoying my time in the Northeast, but the cold weather was a brisk reminder that it was coming to an end. Most days only had a high in the 40’s, with even colder nights.
After spending a few days in Portsmouth, I went down to Bradford, Vermont to meet my friend Julia. It was nice hanging out with her and her son Achilles, who was 9 years old. She did another hair wrap for me, and we spent the evening lounging and talking.
The next morning after breakfast, Achilles and I got out our rock collections, comparing rocks and making a few trades. I got out my wire wrapping supplies and showed him how to make a necklace. He did very well for his first time.
When our creations were finished, we loaded up Maggie and Sophie and took them to a nearby dog park. Achilles threw the ball for them and they all ran around. After we were there for about an hour, the wind started whipping and the snow picked up, our cue to leave.
It was time for me to hit the road anyway; I had plans to go to a Friendsgiving Celebration at The Hive, an intentional community in New Hampshire. I stopped at a nearby gas station since my diesel bus was very near empty, and pulled up to the pump. I mindlessly picked up the handle and pressed the green button to start filling my tank. I was very confused when the pump read $4 after I put in one gallon, since lately the price of diesel had been around $6 per gallon. That was when I realized my mistake. I had put gasoline in my diesel tank.
I knew I couldn’t start my bus. Even though the tank was very close to empty beforehand, I knew two gallons of gas would be enough to seize my engine, killing my vehicle AND my house. I figured my only option was to siphon it out, and then fill gas jugs with diesel from the pumps around back. Only I didn’t have a hose to use as a siphon, and I would need two gas jugs. I called Julia, who was six minutes down the road. She and Achilles came to my rescue, bringing two gas jugs and different hoses.
Unfortunately, the hoses had nozzles too big to fit into my tank. I grabbed a kitchen knife and used it to saw off a nozzle, but it still wouldn’t work in my tank. We ended up taking a few trips to a nearby Tractor Supply to get supplies. With their longer tubes, I was able to get a little gasoline out, but not much. At this point, we had been at this for hours, and it was freezing out. I had no clue what to do. I asked some random guy at the pump if he had any advice. His only advice was to go into the bar that shared the parking lot; he said it was full of nice locals who might help.
Lo and behold, he was right. Two men came out and tried to help siphon the gas. They weren’t able to get anymore out, and pointed out that with me having a 30 gallon tank, there probably wasn’t even enough in there to siphon out. They ended up bringing one of their trucks around and hooked my bus to the back of it. They put the bus in neutral, and one guy towed it while the other steered, which he offered to do since there would be no power steering, while I sat in the back. They got me over to the pump, and I filled my tank with all the diesel it would take, which they said would be enough to safely dilute the tiny bit of gasoline left. Thank goodness for Vermont locals.
Unfortunately, at this point, it was way too late to make the Friendsgiving Celebration. Since I no longer had plans, I wanted to thank the guys who helped me, so I went into the bar and bought them and their wives a round of drinks. I ended up hanging out there for a bit, Julia and Achilles came and we all ate dinner together.
I had planned on staying in that gas station parking lot overnight, until I realized there were “no overnight parking” signs. I didn’t want to bother Julia again, so I figured I would drive around and see if I could find a place nearby. I found a NAPA with a back lot, and spent the night there, unbothered. I was awakened at 7 by a brisk knock on my door. I peeked outside and saw an angry man. His attitude changed to surprise when I popped out of the bus. He kindly asked me to leave, explaining the workers had to park there. I was ready to go anyway. It had gotten well below freezing that night, and even with my heater going, the animals’ water dish was crusted with ice, and I also had to scrape ice off the inside of my windshield.
I was eager to get to my parents’ warm house where I would be spending Thanksgiving. After I took the dogs for a quick walk, I drove the six hours straight to their house. Sophie was thrilled about the deep snow they had, it was her first time seeing it.
It was nice to be back in my home town for a bit, and to see my family. I visited a few friends and then spent Thanksgiving with the family. My mom cooked an amazing turkey dinner complete with gluten free gravy. The day was rambunctious and fun, like most of our family gatherings are, especially now with two young nephews and my dogs.
While I was there, we also went to a Christmas tree farm and cut down my parents’ Christmas tree, a family tradition that I’ve participated in every year of my life. Usually the whole family goes, but this year it was just me, my parents, my brother Ben, and of course my pups. We found the perfect tree, as always, and loaded it into my parents’ van.
I enjoyed the time spent with my family and friends, but I was eager to hit the road again, especially with the snow and cold that central New York brought. I loaded my three animals up and we headed toward South Carolina.
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