Urinary disasters, part deux

In the continuing misadventures of the Complete Flake, I would be remiss if I did not go into some detail about my retreat from Quartzsite and the desert cold. (It’s not much warmer here on the coast, btw.)

So there I was, speeding along Highway 115 nearing Barstow, California, when out of the dark along the side of the road loomed a pickup truck with a small cargo trailer and a tall man waving frantically for me to stop.

A split-second decision was made: I slammed on the brakes and pulled over, cringing at the sound of who-knows-what crashing forward from the back. I had not packed up very carefully.

Was stopping a wise decision, given the crazy things that happen to women driving alone at night? Probably not, but you would want someone to stop for you, wouldn’t you? Still, I knew there wasn’t much I could do to help. I have zero mechanical knowledge and no tools.

I backed up and got out of LaVanne prepared to say, “Sorry I can’t help,” when the young man approached.

“Thank you!” he called with palpable relief. “We got lost and ran out of diesel.”

He was handsome and genial in a Kevin Costner kind of way, holding out his hand to shake. “My name is Chris.”

“Oh!” I said, smiling and taking his hand. I liked him right away. “My son’s name is Chris. I’m LaVonne,” I said, making another decision. “I can take you to get some gas.”

So there was something I could do after all.

Chris went to tell his friend in the truck while I went back to make room in LaVanne. The passenger seat was taken up with my new house battery on the floor and a tangle of cables on the seat. He would have to sit on my little back-seat ‘couch.’

I peered back and saw the damage my sudden stop had caused: loose drawers had spilled their contents, my prized sink-and-faucet contraption that I had traded my camp stove for had fallen over and apart, taking up all available foot room, and worst of all… Luggable Loo had tipped over — soaking my purse on the floor in piss.

Yes, it’s another urinary disaster story.

If I’d had time to agonize about my impulsive decision to throw everything into the van and take off without securing anything, I would have. But Chris was waiting for his ride, so I thought, Screw it, I’ll yell at myself later, and shoved things aside to make room for him.

I made mental note of the location of my most important items (iPod, hotspot, phone) and realized that miraculously, nothing of value was in the now-soaked satchel, a freebie I’d gotten for joining the Sierra Club. I could relax.

The drive into Barstow was actually pleasant. Chris told me that he and his friend were headed to Mexico where they were rehabbing a house. I told him a bit about moving into the van and blogging my adventures. When I warned him that I’d have to take his photo and post it, he laughed.

We found a gas station, got a couple of gallons of diesel, and drove back to the truck.

Chris offered me a handful of crumpled bills and I took them. Gas is too expensive not to. But I couldn’t remember where the camera was, so I didn’t get Chris’s photo. (Sorry. Trust me when I say he is one good-looking young man, and a nice one too.) I said goodbye with a reminder to check the blog,

“It’s CompleteFlake.com,” I said with a smile and he laughed again, repeating it. I hope he remembers to stop by and say hello.

Epilogue: The mess is cleaned up, the canvas satchel is washed and good as new (nothing was damaged beyond a few unimportant pieces of paper), and I have learned my lesson. Luggable Loo is now firmly bungeed to the wall.

I will never spill pee again, so help me God!