This post is a bit disjointed, but then, I am a bit out of sorts. I am again boondocking at a repair facility, this time in Lake City. I limped Karma here today. Her Allison transmission needs to be completely replaced with a rebuilt one that will take six days to arrive from Chicago. It will cost $2,000 plus labor. For some reason, this was the first time I noticed the sticker on the engine that indicates it’s not the original, but a rebuilt one just like it. That means I have no clue how many miles are on it, only that the bus has 96,600. The tranny will have a year’s warrantee with the company, but limited places to bring it if something goes wrong. In the morning the head mechanic on the job will research the possibility of an upgrade to a tranny that will make it easier to climb hills. My situation could be a lot worse. I’m still in sunny Florida. There is sand and water here, and lots and lots of trucks and trailers. Plus, I can see the moon.

Here I met Jennifer, who drives a “white horse.” Her rig plus the 53’ trailer she is hauling dwarfed my 30’ bus. We hit it off on her lunch break and checked out each other’s rigs. I offered her a tarot reading and, having been in the Rainbow Family, she offered me half her lunch because “something for something,” she said, is the fair way. We’re both looking forward to her return Thursday.

The transmission saga began yesterday. As I was driving to get food, I noticed the 4-speed automatic had more or less turned into a two speed: 1st and 3rd. Host of the skoolie community I’d been at directed me to check my transmission fluid. Sure enough, it was low. There was a car parts store a block away that I could get to by driving slowly through parking lots. It was daylight. It wasn’t raining. I felt blessed. I filled it up, but the problem persisted. I made it 12 miles back to camp, prepared a list of truck repair facilities to call in the morning and got up early (for me) to make the calls. Some didn’t call back. Others said they couldn’t do the job. It ended up a choice between a dealer 80 miles away and this shop 12 miles away. (Actually, it ended up I drove more like 15 because twice I passed by this place, not seeing the little sign with the name I had called under the big sign with a name I did not recognize.) Karma was good to me! She gave me all she had and then some. The owner is very accommodating, letting me plug in and live in the yard on the bus. His son will take me shopping when I need more food. If necessary, I will spend a night or two at a motel up the street while the work is being done. We’ll see if Pye comes with me or stays on the bus.

Last night I joined four other couples around a fire. We were all boondocking on the same property. All were roughly my age, traveling in various RVs for various amounts of time. It didn’t take long to again realize I am not a member of that tribe. I stayed long enough to burn all the papers that were not going in my Book of Shadows, the returned to my funky, offbeat sacred space on wheels.

There I lit a candle, put out my shoes and left figs and honey for la Bafana. In Italian folklore, she is an old woman with warts on her crooked nose, wearing a skirt and a black shawl, who flies around on her broom, delivering candy to well-behaved children. In Russia she is known as Baboushka. While my mother’s parents came from Sicily, it wasn’t until recently I learned that Italy’s oldest and most celebrated legend is a witch! Children there await Babbo Natale on Christmas Eve, but the red-suited man is new compared to the story of the old woman who was too busy cleaning to join the Wise Men on their journey. According to the story, they stopped by her cottage to ask directions and invited her to come along, but she refused. She also refused to join a shepherd who asked her to join him, as some tell it. Later that night she saw a great light in the sky. Regretting her decision, she sets out to give the Christ Child gifts that had, according to some, belonged to her child who had died. She never finds the Baby Jesus and instead, leaves her gifts for children she encountered along the way. Since the 13th century, children have left their shoes out or hung up their socks Epiphany Eve, January 5, for the Befana to fill with sweets and gifts. Bad children were given lumps of coal. It was also believed she came down the chimney and before she left, she’s sweep the floor. So as is often done, I swept the floor docile, as best as you can in an oblong space, leaving the dust and dirt in a pile overnight. In the morning, I swept it up and out, cleaning away the old to make way for the new.

I know there was more I intended to write, but it’s getting cold and I need to shower. As always, you can find more photos with this post on Facebook.