Roam Report: When Good Sam Goes Bad | Marker #1

Colan and I have officially been living full-time on the road for over three months. May not sound like a lot, but considering we’ve been to thirteen states, driven over 10,000 miles, and lost count of how many rv parks we’ve stayed at, it almost feels like dog years (in the best way). And there are the catastrophes under our belts. We aren’t strangers to bad luck and mishaps, and generally handle it all with humor. We’ve attempted to do whatever we can to protect ourselves, like paying for any and all supplemental insurance and services from what we thought were reliable, reputable companies, and it’s just been one big fat flat tire of a bummer. Our most recent (profound) disappointment was with our Platinum Roadside Assistance Plan through Good Sam.

Let’s skip to the ending: Good Sam left us and our pets, one of whom I made clear was in the final stages of terminal cancer, stranded on the side of a California highway. Period. We spent over 20 hours unable to unhitch from our fifth-wheel. Repeatedly, I called the roadside assistance number. I spoke to three representatives who either couldn’t understand English or pretended not to and two others who seemingly gave their brains the day off. As panic set in, we listened (over and over) as each person read off a script. No forward movement. Literally. In a fit of desperation and many hours in, I called the Membership Services number as we’re also Good Sam members after all, and I begged for help. BEGGED while explaining that we had left our last place early specifically to get a necessary prescription for our dog Red, and now we were stranded one and a half hours from it.  Oh, and there was that pesky little issue of needing to walk him often because of the prostate cancer. And because he’s a dog. Who doesn’t love a high risks’ game of Let’s Go Wiz Along 80MPH Traffic?! And in case you’re wondering, Colan and I are also experts now since we couldn’t access our bathrooms. Extending the slides at our rustic Shoulder of the Highway Resort may have meant certain death to us and others. (Ooh, I smell another life-threatening  game in the making!)

The three Good Sam Membership Services employees I spoke with throughout the ordeal had an opportunity to ensure we got the help we paid for and were promised instead of hot potato-ing us back to the outsourced company. In fact, I was told by one that we “were exactly the kind of members this service was created for and they’d surely be able to help”. (They didn’t) For the sake of the condescending supervisor, ryhmes with Mulie, that was called in to assist, I’ll add here that someone did come out to change the tire, which was the only thing he was certified to do. From the beginning, we repeatedly stated to everyone involved that we were not dealing with a flat tire, but instead something much more ominous and involved. Stranded, in the dark, with virtually no connectivity, we were finally told to “maybe get some sleep and that it’d be better if WE found the help we needed ourselves tomorrow”. Ah yes, why didn’t we think to wait till tomorrow to call for help?! Always easier on a Sunday!

Turns out, Good Sam was right about one thing: It was better for us to find the help ourselves. You may not be able to count on a company but what we’re finding during our new life? You can count on yourselves and you can count on people in general. It just takes one person sometimes. There are wonderful, caring, dependable people everywhere, from the stranger in Victor, Idaho who insisted on giving us a hose because ours wasn’t long enough, to the owner of Big Mac Campground who troubleshooted (troubleshot?) for over an hour and got our brand new totally dead truck to start, to Kirk— a mobile technician I found, who saved us. He seriously swooped in and saved us, with snacks and water to boot! It’s one and a half weeks later, and I’m convinced we’d still be stranded on Highway 101 if it wasn’t for Kirk. (Well, not Red. RIP our best boy. Awkward.)

This entire experience will soon be something we laugh about as this lifestyle isn’t for the faint of heart, and the wild experiences are (eventually and in hindsight) part of the charm. Still, it doesn’t make it any less traumatizing. Good Sam, short for Good Samaritan, failed us at our most vulnerable, and plain didn’t do their job. And nobody cared. We’re left wondering how we can ever trust a company again after something like this. They’ve been around since the 60’s, so we know it can’t all be bad. But really, how do you move forward? Oh, and if you’re wondering, we’re still waiting on their promised call back to check in on how things are going. (Red, be a good boy and go haunt them.) Bad Sam. Go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done.

See you out there!

Cristy Lee