I’m not exactly sure what day this is, but I’m pretty sure it’s the one that I have stopped making sense and have lost all perspective. In the “I shiz you not” category, we have broken down once again.
This time, we are outside Charlotte, North Carolina and I’ve grown weary of this particular routine. This mechanic’s name is Hal, and he has had many past experiences with RV’s. In fact, he told my husband that he doesn’t go into the actual camper anymore because so many of them “are just rolling brothels.”
Actually, that makes a lot of sense because I feel like I’m getting screwed every time I get into this one.