One of my given nicknames is Macgyver, a moniker I was christened with back in the days of the popular television series. The blessing of lacking resources, when one is is young and thrust into a role of too much responsibility, is you either figure a way to get shit done or you go without.
One of my most prolific tales of “Macgyverisms”, happened several years back when four of us were traveling high in the mountains of Nothern California, and in a snow storm at around 2 o’clock in the morning.
My buddy, a guy who shares many personality traits with Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase from the “Vacation” franchise) as per usual was hellbent on getting from point A to point B in record time.
He and I drove in shifts as we navigated his fathers old GMC motorhome (a doppelgänger for the “EM50” that Bill Murray so famously saved the day in, in the movie “Stripes”), around the tortuous bends of US Highway 1 and other byways that were never designed for the likes of such a rig.
I was enjoying a rare full on REM sleep, when I was abruptly snapped back into reality by the ululations of my buddy frantically belting out a string of profanities that would surely make a Longshoreman blush.
I jumped my dazed ass up from the bed, that we had hours before used to throw some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches together, to find that our EM50 had lost all air pressure to its suspension system and its chassis now rested directly on its tires.
I had a gander at the miles of circuitous tubes that my buddy was now hopelessly staring at, when I thought I really enjoyed my sleep much more than the frigid air and snow that was now accumulating upon my noggin.
I asked my buddy to grab me a “Bic” ballpoint pen in the cab, so I could discern what the hell was wrong with this RV that was now nothing more than a Herculean paperweight.
He shook is head but complied with my request, returning in a few minutes with what would soon become our blue 25 cent salvation that would repair our lame conveyance, and allow me to get some sorely needed shut-eye.
The cap, on the non-business end of the pen, fit perfectly into the hissing clear hose that was the source of our problems!
My buddies dad did have to permanently repair the suspension system, but that was a few years later.