If you are new here and think motorhome life is all sunsets, slow mornings and artisan coffee, welcome. This is a motorhome breakdown in Eglington on route to Donegal, on Boxing Day, just after Christmas, when I had already done my time peeling vegetables and trying not to food poison relatives.
We were heading to Swan Park in Buncrana. That was the plan. We had survived Christmas. I was mentally ready. Naturally, the universe had other ideas.
The Blowout and the Jack That Couldn’t Lift a Smile
Somewhere on the Clooney Road, heading out of Greysteel towards Derry, the rear driver’s side tyre gave up on life. Not a gentle deflation. A proper blowout. Loud, dramatic, and very final.
I managed to limp the van into a farmer’s field entrance, mostly so we weren’t taken out by someone driving like they were qualifying for a rally stage.
Out came the jack. The same jack that has lived under my driver’s seat for three years. Turns out it was more decorative than functional. It could not lift a smile, never mind a 3.5 tonne motorhome. Not a single millimetre.
At this point, I rang the insurance company. Breakdown cover included. We were promised that someone would be with us within the hour.
Narrator voice. “They would not.”
A Stranger, a 4 Tonne Trolley Jack, and Restored Faith in Humans
After about an hour of waiting and watching cars blast past, a passing motorist stopped and asked if we were alright. I explained the tyre, the jack, the breakdown cover, and my growing resentment.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
And unlike most people who say that, he actually was.
He returned with a 4-tonne trolley jack, a wheel nut kit, and cardboard so he didn’t have to lie on frozen ground in minus two degrees. My clothes were already wrecked by then, so I had nothing left to lose.
Within thirty minutes, the wheel was off, the spare was retrieved from its bracket under the van, and we were back on the road. No drama. No fuss. Just genuine help.
The man’s name was Eamon Kennedy, and he is an absolute gent. To top it off, he casually mentioned he’d seen some of my videos already. I gave him my website link and told him to pick a t-shirt for his trouble. Fair exchange.
Mental notes logged for future me:
Stop trusting factory-supplied optimism tools
The Dog, the Slippers, and the 4am Surprise
That night, Lucky decided not to wake us when she needed out. Instead, she waited until we were fast asleep and redecorated her dog bed, the floor, and my slippers.
I discovered this at 4am while also needing to deal with my own situation. There are few things in life that wake you up faster than stepping barefoot into something warm that should not be warm.
Dog bed bagged. Slippers ruined. Floor mopped. Feet wiped. Dignity gone. Back to bed to deal with the emotional fallout in the morning.
Buncrana, Derry, and Back to Portrush Again
Despite everything, we enjoyed a few days at Swan Park in Buncrana. As it got busier, we did what we always do. Headed back into Derry to see Gemma and our grandson Reuben, grabbed supplies, then rolled on to Portrush, which has quietly become our home from home.
Portrush in winter remains elite. Sea air, long dog walks, and the illusion that we own several million pounds worth of coastal property just by parking near it.
Living With the DJI Power 2000 in the Motorhome
We’ve been properly testing the DJI Power 2000, and it has been solid. The setup is simple once you understand it.
Leisure batteries charge first. Then the DJI tops up. If you want to use the toaster, microwave, or coffee machine, the DJI needs unplugged first. It pulls close to a kilowatt when fast charging, and the inverter reacts like you’ve personally offended it.
USB-C charging though, is ridiculous. Phones go from nearly dead to full in minutes. I have never seen my Samsung charge indicator move that fast.
Birthdays, Cheeseboards, and Forgetting My Own Catchphrase
From Portrush, we headed to my daughter’s for her birthday. Cake was eaten. Tea was consumed. Then it was on to Colum and Toni’s for cheeseboards, burnt cocktail sausages, and beers.
As the night wound down, it became apparent that nobody could remember how I start my videos. After five years.
For the record, it is:
“Hello people off the internet.”
You are welcome.
Ending Up in Culdaff With a Fry and Some Sunshine
The following morning, we found ourselves in Culdaff. Sea breeze. Rare winter sunlight. A much-needed fry-up. Exactly where you want to end up after a week that included mechanical failure, dog-related biological warfare, and questionable footwear decisions.
Final Thoughts
Motorhome life is brilliant. It is also nonsense. A motorhome breakdown in Eglinton on Boxing Day is not something you plan for, but it is something you earn.
And if you ever find yourself stuck on the roadside in freezing weather, I hope an Eamon Kennedy appears with a trolley jack and no expectation of anything in return.
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