THANKFUL AT EXIT 367

RVing is a way of life that we have embraced for 25 years. We started with renting an RV once a year way back in 1999, and now, we are the fortunate owners of our 4^th RV, a 42-foot Class A motorhome (motorcoach, as some might say) appropriately named “Rocket”. It became a necessity to become RVers once we learned that we were the proud parents of 2 beautiful boys, both affected by a genetic cognitive disability called Fragile X Syndrome (https://fragilex.org/understanding-fragile-x/fragile-x-101/). My husband and I, not-so-quickly, learned that in order to leave the 4 walls of our home, we needed to provide these boys with some kind of “home base” consisting of their snacks, their bed and their VHS players (this was a LONG time ago!), so, we embarked on this RV journey.

Over the past 25 years, we have travelled more than 100,000 miles to all of the lower 48 United States in “Rocket”. We tow a vehicle to make it easier to navigate large cities, as Rocket has no interest in attempting narrow streets. As a matter of routine, we’ve made the trip from our home in Colorado to Arizona, where some family live, at least a dozen times over the years, especially during holidays. It’s not always easy to make this trip due to weather constraints, but this year we were blessed with a dry forecast.

For several days before, I made the necessary preparations of clothing, food and supplies we might need. I always pre-cook some homemade dishes so that we can simply heat up and eat along the way. This makes meal time quick and delicious. 

We both take part in the maintenance of Rocket, but, Chris in in charge of the tow vehicle—making sure the tow gear is in order and that the vehicle has fuel. Once we’re ready to hit the road, I help get it all hooked up from the driver’s seat. It’s certainly a team effort! This year, we towed my 6-month-old Chevy pickup 2500.

It was Thursday evening, and we had everything ready for a Friday morning departure. This would mean we would arrive at our destination on Saturday evening, barring any complications. We could enjoy a whole week with family in Arizona before heading back the following Friday/Saturday, giving us Sunday at home before going back to work.

On Friday we drove from Denver to Albuquerque, New Mexico. We planned ahead as we always do, and camped at a nice, fairly new, campground. We enjoyed a pre-cooked meal, had a quick, albeit chilly walk around the park with our dog, Buster, and tucked in for the night.

The next morning, we packed everything up, buckled everyone in and set out for the final leg of our trip. I was excited to get to see my sister and her husband for Thanksgiving, something we had not done for 4 long years.

We prefer the interstate 25 south to interstate 10 west path because it’s more direct, and closer to our destination, Casa Grande, which is a good hour south of Phoenix. We prefer this route over the I-40, mainly because the speed limit is 75 on I-25/I-10 and it’s a straighter shot. We made our usual stop around Lordsburg, NM, for a quick lunch and gas-up. I threw together a variety of sandwiches for each of us, chips and drinks, along with a homemade cookie. We took the dog out to stretch his legs and do his business, too. After 30 minutes, we were moving west along I-10 once again.

The guys, now ages 33 and 35, amuse themselves in the middle of the coach, each comfortable on a leather seat fully equipped with seat belts. Joe occupies his time watching his old-school DVD player with an assortment of DVDs, and his favorite over-the-ear headphones. Jake uses his Ipad, also donning over-the-ear headphones. Chris and I love this quiet time with only the sound of the road in our midst.

We passed the sign saying “Welcome to Arizona”, signifying that we were in the home stretch.

Suddenly, and abruptly, we heard a loud but not enormous “BOOM”. Instantly, Chris is blurting out cuss words, I’m screaming and clinging to Buster who had been sleeping in my lap.

The coach is pulling hard toward the right. Chris is pulling hard to the left. In my brief glance, I see his muscles straining and his urgency to succeed on his face.

I scream, “Oh my God! Was that a tire?”

Chris says, “YES!”

As Chris looks out his side mirror he sees the pickup swinging into the left lane---back and forth, whipping with the force of the RV. He also sees that the traffic behind us has come to an abrupt stop.

I continue to yell, “Can you stop?”

Chris replied, “What the F*&k do you think I’m trying to do?”

I see the mesquite, the sage brush, tall grasses and cactus rushing underneath the bus. There is a loud, continuous, never-ending screeching and thumping. My breath has ceased and I am floating, wondering when we might stop. We go right….then left….then right again, somehow avoiding the coach’s urge to succumb to the 10% drop off and send us rolling. With what little breath remains, I let out a scream for what seems like miles.

Finally, without hitting a single tree or even a mile-marker post, we come to a gradual stop, barely right of the solid white line on the shoulder of the road. The silence is deafening. My ears are ringing.

Chris quickly undoes his seatbelt and jumps up and out of the RV to see what the situation was. I undo my seatbelt, put Buster on the floor, put my hands to my face and try to catch my breath. I immediately look to the back and see that, miraculously, the boys were completely unfazed. They both looked up to see why I was out of my seat and why Dad was out of his. My hands were shaking so hard and I still could not catch my breath.

I looked up to see a white Tesla pull up in front of us. A lady steps out, raises her hand and gives the “OK?” signal. I wave and shake my head, not really knowing if we were ok, but knowing that we were all alive and not hurt.  Traffic resumed its hurried pace on the road, just inches from where we sat.

In his steady, measured pace, Chris had removed the orange emergency warning triangles from our storage bin and placed them on the road behind us. I was observing from the driver’s seat simply trying not to cry. I got up, stepped down the motorhome steps and went out to assess our situation. Chris met me at the door. I hugged him and he hugged me back. We were too stunned for words.

He asked, “How are the boys?”

“Fine. Like nothing happened.”, I said

I finally looked closely at his face and said, “Thank you. Thank you for knowing what to do. We should be so grateful.”

He looked somber and simply nodded his head in agreement. I knew it was too soon to take that road.

There it was…..the tire sat directly on the ground below the front passenger-side wheel. It had held on till the very end of the exploit. It didn’t shred, it didn’t fly off and hit someone…it hung on. The wheel even appeared to be in good shape. The problem was that we didn’t have a spare. Carrying a spare tire of that size would be a grand undertaking that most do not do.

My instincts kicked in and I began the part of RV life that was my responsibility—insurance, record-keeping and memberships. I had one good-luck-charm on my side…..my sister’s husband owns three tow companies in their town. I looked around to see where the heck we were since I had no idea. Through the front windshield, I saw a sign just 50 yards away that read, “Exit 366-Bowie-1 mile”. I deduced that we had to be close to mile marker 367. My sister lived close to exit 200 which meant that we were 167 miles away.

I called my brother-in-law, Kenny. My voice still shook as I told him what happened. I could tell that he was alarmed, too, but he knew what questions to ask.

He asked how far we were off the white line?

I looked out the window, “About 18 inches”, I replied.

“Good”, he said. “The police don’t need to be called then if you are not in the lane of travel. They won’t wait there with you, anyway, so that’s good”.

Then he asked what size tire we had. I told him and he immediately understood this size to be a difficult one to get. As it so happens, tire stores generally close at noon on Saturdays and are not open on Sundays. Great, I thought. I looked at the clock and it read 1:30 p.m. It was a Saturday.

He said he would get on the phone and see if anyone he knew could help at least get us off the freeway. I agreed, and I think Chris would concur. We did not want to stay on I-10 any longer than we had to. Each time a semi passed by, the force would rock the RV, making everyone uneasy.

I asked Chris to start by calling AAA since we had a membership. I got on my maps to see if I could find any roadside services that might be able to help. In the meantime, my sister is calling, panicked and out of breath. I tell her we are ok, but as I begin to relay the story my eyes well with tears. I need to focus, so I let her know that we would all stay in close touch.

After many calls and what seems like hours, we find a roadside service guy. He’s nice-as-can-be and offers to come to us. He says he has a used tire one size larger than ours, but it would be enough to get us off the road. We agreed. At this point our priority shifted to just getting off I-10 with no thought to the holiday or tomorrow even.

Three-and-a-half hours later, we had a tire on, the RV was drivable, thankfully, and we are headed to a campground 4 miles down the road. The incredibly nice roadside guy followed us every step of the way to make sure we made it safe and sound.

We were in the middle of the desert at a campground that was no more than a dirt lot with hook-ups, but we were incredibly grateful. It was Heaven to us. The sky was blue, there was zero wind (shocking!) and it was a beautiful 79 degrees. We went about our usual routine (which is essential for our sons), got everyone settled—wifi, snacks, fed the dog and the guys put on their slippers to get comfortable.  Chris and I grabbed a cocktail and headed outside to further assess the damage.

As soon as we were out the door, we just held each other for a long hug. For me it was a release of emotions that I had held onto for 4 hours. My chest still ached, but holding my husband of almost 40 years felt familiar and comfortable. 

He pulled me away a bit to look into my eyes.

He said, “I hate to tell you, but the truck it pretty scratched up on the passenger side.”

“Oh my gosh! That can all be fixed! I love you and I am so thankful that you knew not to slam on the brakes! You are amazing and I am so, so grateful. How did you know to do that?”,  I asked. 

“I guess it’s just something I learned along the way.”

He rubbed his forehead, obviously willing away some emotions. We walked toward the back of the bus to the truck….my beautiful truck.

I had picked it out myself. It’s a 2024 Chevrolet Silverado 2500 High Country, pearl white with a deep navy interior. Now, it had sap on the front bumper and some “road rash” on the side, but otherwise it survived being dragged and whipped behind 70,000 lbs of force. No bad, really, for all she had been through. Nothing else appeared to be damaged, which was amazing.

We had made it through goal number 1—to get off of the highway. Now, we needed to figure out what was next? We couldn’t drive Rocket the 166 miles to our destination on the temporary tire. No one had the right tire until at least Monday morning. Today was Saturday. Kenny to the rescue!

Kenny had a good friend that had just the right kind of tow vehicle that we would need to get Rocket where we needed her to go. He put us in touch with a guy by the name of Shane, who happened to be on vacation, but called us anyway. He agreed to send one of his guys with what’s called a Low-Boy tow truck on Sunday morning to get us.

Sunday morning, Paul, Driver, drove the 166 miles from Casa Grande, AZ to Bowie, where we were camped. Chris shook his hand and they coordinated a plan on how to get Rocket loaded onto the Low-Boy trailer. It was quite a site to see!

We prepared all of the items inside the RV to travel as we normally would. We put in the slide-outs, put away anything on countertops or flat surfaces and secured the refrigerator. 

The semi-truck would disconnect from the trailer, then the trailer would be lowered down to ground so that the tire ramps could be level with the ground. Chris would drive the RV onto the trailer from the front of the trailer. The RV had to be perfectly lined up with the edges of the trailer—a process that took tiny, baby movements and many nerves to achieve. Finally, after about an hour, she was chained to the trailer and ready to go.

We loaded the family, snacks, Ipads, the dog and the people into the pickup and we followed Paul and Rocket down the highway. We maintained a steady but slower-than-usual pace. The speed limit on I-10 is 75 but we never went over 65. I think all of us were relieved by that.

It was a smooth journey. We arrived at the campground before sunset, got set up and took a sigh of relief for finally getting to our destination. Everyone seemed content. My sister, Rebecca, and Kenny greeted us that evening and we all hugged each other tight.

We had a glorious week of sun, celebration, family, walks with the dog and new tires—yep! A whole set of 8 new tires. Chris said he would not drive the RV home without all new ones, and I agreed. I wanted anything that would set our nerves back on a smooth course.

Chris needed these days to collect himself. He was having dreams of the incident for 3 straight nights. I wanted him to have whatever time he needed.

We extended our trip so that we would depart on the Monday after Thanksgiving instead of Friday. Chris felt better with that plan, knowing that there would be services available if something went wrong. I did not disagree. We would allow ourselves 3 days to get home, which was a nice, relaxed pace. It felt good to slow down and enjoy a bit more.

The degree of gratitude we feel for whatever power was looking over us is overwhelming. It was such a traumatic experience that it’s taken me an entire month to be able to put words to paper. It’s also allowed us to digest the immense joy that surrounds us and the people that occupy that space. There are so many people that make a difference every single day—that make our life the good life that it is.

It was time to mount that horse and head home.

As we headed east on I-10, we paused at mile marker 367 to view the spot where our miracle happened. It was 100 yards of displaced dirt and destroyed vegetation  that ended just past 367. We put Rocket in drive and kept going…..forward. 

Chris was keeping the speed at a comfortable 65 mph, feeling a little more confident with each mile. As we crossed into New Mexico, he signaled to get into the passing lane to gently pass a medium-sized semi. As we rolled up just parallel to the truck, we heard a “BOOM”! 

“Motherf*&^% (you know the rest)!” Chris said.
(Thank goodness the guys had their headphones on). 

Thankfully, there was an exit just past this point in the road. We took it. As we began the ascent up the exit, I looked to our left and saw that the semi had blown a tire on his back passenger side. It wasn’t us. Chris stopped the RV. We both took a moment to catch our breath. We checked on each other. We were all intact and ok.

We packed our thankful and we kept going….continuing our RV life in Rocket.

To learn more about Cindi Rogers, read her full story at Becoming Mrs. Rogers