"Piglets", my husband said.
"We're turning into little piglets, just sitting around watching the birds at the feeder." We didn't really want to leave, but the time had come. It was time to be on our way. So we left my sister's house on Monday, having stuck around for just one more weekend. We took our time, even then. It was noon by the time we pulled away from the local supermarket, where we had stocked up on a few staples including a refill for our 5-gallon drinking water bottle.
We went to the Chevron station in Sonora and put some fuel in the tank. At the next pump, there was a State Patrol car. I walked over and asked the officer where we could find a mechanic to look at our motor home. He directed us up the road to Victor's Garage, and that's where we spent Monday night -- tucked in against the back of the garage. It was pretty well closing time when we arrived, so the mechanic just put us up for the night and set to work in the morning, trying to figure out why we had almost no oil left. When we had the starter motor fixed in Austin, we also had the oil changed, so there should have been plenty there, but instead of staying where it belonged, the oil was spraying out over the engine, producing the smoke we had seen. It was a horrid mess. In the end, Victor's mechanic threw his hands up and referred us to the Ford dealer in San Angelo, seventy miles north of Sonora. If we drove gently, we should be able to get there without being towed. So, off we went, knowing already that the mechanics in San Angelo wouldn't be able to look at the engine until the following day.
So here we are, waiting for a call from the Ford dealer. We suspect that we are going to need a new engine -- poor old Turtle is showing her age -- but I doubt now that we will end up flying home.We will probably just run a little behind schedule.