It was only a curve

RVing has its moments. First of all there is the beauty of the USA and the companionship of other RVers, both of which makes any problems seem small. Of course there is the cost of gas and repairs, but that pales with the advantages of taking your grandkids and doggies along for the trip, having your own kitchen, and a comfy bed without the fear of bedbugs. However, we have a large coach, and there are just some roads that leave a lot to be desired. One could say the same for many highways, of course. When one is driving an RV, there is decidedly a Rattle-Bang senerio that makes one wonder if the whole thing is just going to come apart in the middle of the roadway. No manner of packing can make all the noises go away when traveling many of our by-ways. This particular outting required that we drive through a short area of mountainous roadway. We knew it would be full of turns, but we have easily maneuvered those  in the past, and had no worries. However, Angela had recently had rotorcuff surgery, and her arm was still healing. Up the hills we went, managing each switchback without pain or difficulty for her, the coach, or the car we were towing. And then came THE CURVE. It wasn't just a sharp curve, it was a downright scary curve. This little devil had no curbing or rail, and the stinker had a dropoff that would give anyone with a fear of heights the willies. Angela motored into it slowly, using all the caution she could. She cranked the wheel and was careful to stay in her own lane, even though she had to maneuver as close to the line as possible, to give our tow vehicle the room required to follow safely. The coach was safe, so too the dolly, but one wheel of the car slipped off the road. Of course, when that happens,the object in trouble wants to drag the whole kit-and-kaboodle down the incline. Angela swiftly got on the gas and dragged the car along the curve, fighting the dangerous pull and forcing the car to follow us. Let me just say that there was no vegetation left along that 10 foot portion of the curve from where the wheel left the asphalt until it returned to its correct follow-the-big-coach position.  Both of us let out a long breath and wiped a bit of sweat from our brows. "That was fun," Angela said. All I could manage was a smile and a head nod. The remainder of the curvatious route was MUCH easier. When we reached the bottom, we found a pull-out that was a tad too small for us, but offered a bit of refuge none the less. Both of us piled out to see how much damage there was. None. None, I say. We could hardly believe it. We figured the frame would be bent on the tow dolly, and that we might have an axle problem with the car, but all was well. You see, it was all because of my Talented T and all of her experience on the grand prix and cross country tracks she had experienced back in her David days. Of course the fact that she is an excellent driver in general also helped. She is just a marvel, and I am glad to know that this was just another Best Thing About Being Married to a Transsexual.