Memories From the Side of the Road

Danedri, Jenn and Amy by the Shaggin' Wagon on the side of the road.

It was an unusually warm October afternoon on the side of Kansas Highway 7 near Bonner Springs, Kansas.

This is the start to what should have been a really stressful trip-ruining moment during my extended weekend reunion with three of my best college buddies. Weeks earlier, we planned to reunite in Manhattan for the K-State vs. Nebraska football game. (How did that game turn out, you ask? Well, let's not be distracted by those details.)

As a collective, we are not a very organized bunch. Individually, we are fine. But planning for a group seems to be more difficult than building the pyramids in Egypt for us. We could not coordinate a hotel room in time, and they all were booked when we called. We waited too long to buy tickets to the game, so we had to pay extra via StubHub! Neither of these things were standing in our way.

An ad was placed on Craigslist, looking for anyone with spare room to rent to some responsible, even if not punctual, K-State graduates from the class of 2000. The only two responses we got were from a woman who had bunk beds to sleep "at least 20" in her basement. And a guy who had bought a fixer-upper and had yet to fix 'er up. The water was "mostly" fine, he believed. So, at this point, our options included drinking some Kool-Aid and being carried away in a spaceship or risking a possible skin rash from taking a shower. These options, clearly, were not ones we would take. But we didn't give up.

If we didn't have a place to crash after the game, it was decided we would rent one. On wheels.

Renting an RV to make the two-hour road trip from Kansas City, where we met up, to Manhattan seemed like the best idea we had come up with in years. It was, in fact, a brilliant plan. In theory.

Amy, Danedri, Jenn and I spent an hour packing the rental RV Amy found via a former co-worker's posting at the office. It seemed like it was meant to be. His price was about $100 per day cheaper than renting from an RV lot. His RV, which we had decided to call the Shaggin' Wagon, was complete with mauve carpet, country blue swivel chairs and room to sleep six. This 1984 throwback made our decision to rough it — I don't camp, people — in a recreational vehicle even sweeter.

We had packed enough booze and rations to survive well beyond our two-day excursion, and we were ready to roll down the road in 32 feet of pure retirement-style living quarters. This, for us, definitely was going to be roughing it. Needless to say, we never slept in the Shaggin' Wagon.

About 12 miles from Amy's house, we heard what sounded like shots being fired in big-city alleyway. The sounds a backfiring RV makes when echoing back from the cutouts on the side of Northeast Kansas highways are pretty alarming. I convinced Amy pulling over to the side of the road and calling the owner would be the best plan. He seemed unworried and suggested we fire up the RV and continue forward like an Oregon Trail family with a slight case of dysentery.

Amy turned the keys. Nothing happened. She called the owner, again. He made some suggestions for what could be done to fix the issue. We started the generator. Nothing happened. We broke out some seven-layer dip and a bag of corn chips. We waited for a tow truck. It never came. We made plans B, B2, C and a lot of others that were so extravagant, President Obama would have had to sign off for them to be executed.

After almost two hours, Amy's husband came to pick us up and we retrieved a vehicle to make it to the Manhattan in time for kickoff. We called all of the hotels in Manhattan — there are nine — to find out no cancellations had been made on game day. In the end, we found shelter in the spare bedroom and on couches of a friend Amy and Danedri have known since childhood.

The rest of the trip included a flu bug that ended Jenn's time with us more than a day earlier than planned and a few other hiccups that were not the most ideal. After all was said and done, we got to share some laughs and walk around our old stomping grounds remembering the antics of our younger years.

That's what makes life worth living. That and the plan we already have in place to rent a new RV and try the road trip again. Of course, we will struggle to nail down any plans far enough in advance and more time may be spent laughing on the side of Kansas Highway 7 near Bonner Springs. And I'm fine with that, as long as we are together.