Thanks my recklessness driving into camping spots, I have already twisted two of my stabilizer jacks beyond repair. Inside, when I walk quickly from one end to the other, the camper rattles. My satellite radio antenna slips from position—that sweet spot where I can draw great reception. Sewing pins fall to the floor and the bathroom soaps and lotions slop around. It is time to replace the jacks, hopefully before I arrive on Dauphin Island. I already have the van oil changed and prescriptions refilled. Tango has a haircut on Tuesday. The cupboard is full of rice, beans and other easy traveling foods to cook in the new crock pot. Now, my camper.

I talked to a co-worker who told me about an RV supply store up in Starke. He told me that the guy has everything, although he is a bit quirky. For example, he might try to sell me toilet paper too, which I didn’t think was such a bad thing. Tango and I boarded the van and drove the 20 miles to Starke.

I see the store, and I am hopeful because the large windows are full of cool RV stuff. I tell Tango that they must have a good selection. I have decided on two free-standing jacks rather than have someone weld new ones in place. Labor costs!

My hope dimmed as we enter and are overwhelmed by the extremely loud radio station music. I listen for a few seconds and recognize old hymns. Old, old hymns. I am washed in the blood of Jesus old hymns. The music is so loud that even Tango cringes. He starts pulling on his leash, “lets go”.

No time to escape. The RV guy, who is my age-ish, enthusiastically positions us against the wall so we cannot slip out. I tell him what I need. Two free-standing stabilizer jacks. I cannot honestly tell you what he said, as I only deciphered a few words here and there. His accent was so different, so unusual, it seemed like a local dialect roughly based on English. He also had the aura of a revivalist pastor, putting emphasis on some words, like Gawd and my Cheesuz, or was it Cheezits?

Here are the few pieces of the non-stop dialogue that I understood or surmised:

• He is my friend, sent by his Gawd to save me money on RV parts
• I can trust him because he loves Cheezits.
• He helps all the widows with their RV problems (pause to stare at my ample chest)
• People from all over the country call him for advice and he loves them all because his Gawd loves them all.
• Something about his superior two-ply toilet paper

Tango is pulling again on his leash. I am getting a headache from the loud radio and Gawd’s servant shouting. I manage to explain again what I need. He tells me, that his Cheezits would not let him lie. Those things are no good. I couldn’t understand anything else. Then, I tried to ask about having regular stabilizer jacks installed. He said no, he wouldn’t do that because I should learn myself (probably true). The phone rang but before he answered it, he asked the technician/repair guy to talk to me.

The technician, in a normal voice, explained that he could come to the RV and install new jacks or I could bring it in. However, he said, these jacks that the Servant was trying to sell me are a piece of sh–. He says the bolts shear off. He tells me that I can talk the guy down in price by mentioning that I am going to check prices at Walmart. He leaves and I wait for the other guy to finish his phone call. Clearly, he is talking to one of his followers. When I browse the displays of RV goodies and move closer, I hear him say—for my benefit—“yes doctor, you just unscrew that one bolt and then….”. Meanwhile, I hear again on the radio that I am washed in the blood of Jesus and that I should get down on my knees right now and give thanks, calling on my savior to deliver me from my sins.

My head pounds and Tango is whining now. It is not his “I have to pee whine” but I see an out. I motion to the Servant that I am taking Tango out for a walk. He seems to get the message and gives me a thumb’s up. “Yes doctor”, he says into the phone, as I walk by. Tango and I head around the building and jump into the van. Zoom. We escape, saved indeed!