Beyond a fork in our road
Pulling into a new campground, after dark, can lead to surprises. In our case, the view this morning was idyllic, so I guess we lucked out. I had made a wise decision, last evening, to not wander in the dark. Behind us, a long descent into a river. I could have found my way to water!
Last night was strange, due in part to the side effects of DM. I didn’t sleep soundly, and my periods of lucidity were trouble be a sense of suffocation. My son puts the whole episode down to apnea. I can’t disagree; I just don’t want a repeat session.
This morning, I managed to transfer another two gallons of DEF into the reservoir, and the console message is off. I wish I had a mentor on this one. Part of the dream theater had me trying to hide a surplus of toxic liquid, with a confusing dialogue in Engish. French and Irish. Happily, my supply transferred, completely, so I’ll never get to test my various scenarios.
Anyhow, after silencing a pesky alarm tone, we were off. You know how vexing a small stone in your shoe becomes? The van has exactly the same reaction, with its retractable step plate. Maybe AI is already in my life. We rolled eastward for several hours, before stopping for cheap burgers and some decision time. We were at a fork in the road, literally. Return to base, or continue to explore other zones. Finally (as a nod to my troubled breathing), we took the familiar path. A quick stop for minimalist groceries, a quick wave to the neighbour (also off to explore) and we were back in our own lane, with our own house and our own view.
