Languishing in Mobile

A barefoot print in the sand at Topsail Beach, Florida.

We arrived at the supreme RV resort we have found in our three years of traveling around the U.S. Topsail Beach Reserve State Park is a pristine campground. Not only does it have full hookups, including cable TV, we have a trolley that drives us out to a white sugar-sand beach on the Gulf of Mexico. The city of Destin lies on the horizon, with its high rise condominiums. But we are in a beautiful spot and we are grateful to have found this place – with the help of friends Chuck and Judy who stopped in last year on their way back from the west coast of the U.S.
There's evidence of native American life here, with a large mound opposite the park entrance. The natives used the area for fishing, hunting and camping. Then the white guys came and began to exploit the huge stands of long leaf pine trees by tapping them for their turpentine. The turpentine was used to maintain the wooden sailing ships used to transport goods and people. Chippers carved cat-face patterns on the trees and inserted a metal strip to allow the sap to flow into clay pots. The scars can still be seen in many living trees in the park.
Before we got here, we spent a night in a Flying J parking lot. Flying J is a chain of fuel stations, mostly used by truckers. Many RVers fill up with fuel and park for the night. I doubt we'll try it again. The trouble with truckers is they run their rigs while they sleep because they need to refrigerate their cargo. As a result, the chattering engines made life a little to loud for us. But it's all part of the ride. The price is right, since there's no charge.

On to our date with destiny in Mobile. We checked in with a trucking repair facility and were handled with sweet, gentle, southern charm. Marty, the lead man, brought his computer to our rig and after he punched in the year and type of chassis, the computer told us two ABS sensors on the left side – one front and one rear – were inoperative. He called the manufacturer who priced the two sensors and we told Marty to ship them in overnight via air from Chicago.
We pulled the rig over to a parking area of smashed and damaged trucks and, after the facility closed for the night, we moved over so we could plug into a wall socket to enjoy the comforts of electricity.
Being trapped in such a place provides the possibility of learning something about people we don't normally meet. I enjoyed a year-old Truckers News magazine which reported on jobs in the industry for couples in which you are paid $2,000 sign-on bonus, plus $1.45 per miles traveled, along with a guarantee of being able to drive 3,000 miles per week, plus full health-dental insurance paid by the company, plus 401K retirement package.
We spent a pleasant evening and fully expected to be on our way on Thursday because Marty said it would take two hours to do the installation.
Thursday at noon arrived and Marty knocked on our motor home door. He apologized profusely, saying the people in Chicago had shipped out the two sensors by truck, not air, and they would take five to seven days to get here. I expressed frustration and he asked if I wanted him to order them to be sent overnight by air one more time. I said to go for it that we were committed by this time. He went away, apologizing, and said it would be done.
Jo and I locked up the rig and drove the car south for 50 miles to Dauphin Island on the Gulf of Mexico. There was a sharp east wind blowing and we were amazed to see all the stilt homes on the island were most empty. The waves were crashing on the shore, however, and spraying the luxurious homes with salt water. All of the homes are at least 10 and often 15 feet above the ground. But the ground – or sand – is only four or five feet above sea level. It seems insane that people are permitted to build on such exposed land where destruction by hurricane can only be a matter of time.
We came back toward Mobile and stopped at a seafood restaurant that had been filled with patrons on our way down to the island. Now it was empty and we enjoyed one of the best fresh catfish and hush puppy meals I recall.
Marty pulled off the wheels in preparation to install the new ABS sensors and had the terrifying “oh-oh” when he saw behind the wheels. The ABS sensor had melted – actually melted – and that meant he had to find the cause. It was revealed in the calipers and brakes pads. One pad was actually loose and could have popped off the axle. Prudence suggested that he check each wheel now. And that resulted in discovering that three of the four brake calipers were damaged and all four sets of brake pads needed to be replaced because of uneven wear.
Now, I could hear the ca-ching of the money machine going into high gear. I asked him to price all of this, including new calipers on all wheels. Back he came in another hour to let us know the bad news and the information that he found everything except one caliper in Mobile. The final unit would have to be brought in from Pensacola, Florida. I offered to drive to Pensacola (it's only 40 miles away – to retrieve the missing part and he said he thought he could get it delivered by Greyhound bus by 7 o'clock the next morning. We said go for it... And then we set out to find a motel room for the night since it would not be possible to live inside the locked up bays. So now we're living in the lap of luxury at a nearby Days Inn – breakfast included.