Week 0ne

God created another beautiful day on Friday May 23, 2003.

When we went out to greet the morning sun, peeping over the treetops, at 7:00am the perfume of 500 gardenias filled the air. The accompaniment of the cardinals’ song put warmth in the 59-degree temperature that would have been missing, otherwise. All was well at 700 Lake Rd, Coldspring, TX as we began the task of preparing the Marlin for the coming four or five months. Things would be easier this time, as we had left many items in the coach when we returned from Branson, last month.

A review of clothing caused some migration in and out of the house but for the most part that was a simple thing. I serviced the batteries while the water tank filled and then treated the wiper blades on all our vehicles to protect them from UV rays. Sporting good items went into the basement, after I reorganized what was already there, along with laundry detergent, drier sheets and dry wash for the coach along with other cleaning supplies. All the while Onie was trekking in and out with foodstuffs. She took grilled boned chicken, venison hamburger and sausage, a couple of steaks, frozen veggies, dry goods, paper stock and other things we would need to operate for a while.

The sun rose to ten o’clock and then twelve. As it touched 2pm we began hooking up the toad car, the Subaru, and then eased out of our drive. Onie locked the gate while we both took one last look at the garden spot that is our home. We both knew that many flowers would bloom before we saw it again.

We stopped at Pat and Russell’s to drop off a key and Onie and her sister, Pat, hugged again. I did too. Back in the coach we waved farewell as the Marlin eased along at an idle.

We were on the road, two weeks or so late, but on the road.

Onie adjusted a few things that seemed out of place, as we made our way east to US 59 and our turn north.

The Cummins settled into its steady beat at 1800 rpm, 65 mph, and the Allison effortlessly transferred the power to the rear duallys. Heavy Memorial Day weekend traffic flowed around us but as we gradually left the Houston environment behind us the traffic fell away too.

Green swathed hills and freshly leafed trees swaying in the wind greeted us at every turn in the road. All was well with the world.

Evening found us nine miles west of Shreveport, LA. We were in a Flying J buying fuel and checking tires. It appeared that we had gotten 10 or 11 miles to the gallon. It also appeared that we had a flat on the right rear inside dually. A piece of metal that looked like a large screw or bolt had managed to lodge in the tread. No amount of air could coax the tire to inflate

May 24, 2003

At this point this should be a long story but it won’t be because it is 11:00 pm the next night but I will tell you this; we were in the Flying J twenty hours. During this time I called every major tire dealer in Shreveport and Bossier City. We ate supper, we slept, we ate breakfast, drank a pot of coffee and a pot of tea. Finally around noon, Saturday, a service truck showed up. The service man was nice but had left most of his tools at the shop with his brain. Working together he and I were able to dismount one tire, it is now a spare, mount two new ones and get us ready for the road in about two hours. After parting with the better part of a G we were ready to hit the road again.

Back on IH 20 we kept motoring east, riding along on part of our children’s’ inheritance which had been transformed into round rubber objects, tires. Over the hills and trough the dales we went to our Wal Mart in Granada, MS. A trip up and down the aisles relieved our pent up tensions and the overcrowded condition of our wallet. Back in the coach we settled down to another night of boondocking. Somewhere in the night rain fell and the vacuum truck swept the parking lot of the day’s debris.

May 25, 2003

After fresh made tea and coffee we checked the outside of the coach and car, a morning ritual on the road, and headed back to the interstate. We had a long way to go and a short time to get there. Before we stopped we would log over 500 miles. Mississippi gave way to Arkansas and then we were bumping over the miserable roads of Missouri. Illinois roads were a little improvement, kind of like having only one foot in the fire instead of both of them, but with the countryside slipping past outside and the odometer clicking over the miles we were relatively content knowing that Indiana lay just ahead.

Terre Haute hove into view and we exited the superslide and made for the campground Onie had selected, a KOA. The park was off the highway but close enough we could still hear the traffic, no problem. We had logged 513 miles and were ready for happy hour, a campfire and some steak. We still had over 300 miles to make tomorrow but that was another day. With a canopy of tree leaves over head and the smell of early campfires we readied the coach for our brief stay, level it, put out the slides, hook up the electric, water and sewer, put out the door mat, get out two chairs, a table, the grill and accessories and then bring out happy hour supplies and the steaks to be cooked.

A campfire grew in our fire ring, an old auto tire rim, as we settled back to enjoy a little quiet time. As a rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Polonaise drifted out our door we watched a squirrel scampering up a hickory tree to its home above the camp. Smoke from our fire and other camps filled our nostrils with the odor known only to folks who have camped after a long day on the road and then enjoyed the camp quiet. This would be the same smell burning oak would have sent to early European settlers and Indians before them. Fortunately some things never change. Our children have smelled this scent as have theirs and theirs after them will too. A bottle of Merlot bended with the steaks, mushrooms and onions and brussell sprouts to sate our appetites and render us near a state of collapse. We left a smoldering fire and toddled off to bed.

May 26, 2003

North out of Terre Haute we followed IH 70. Truckers peppered the roadway and the salt of the earth, working people, were returning home in droves after the first long weekend of the summer camping season. The road was packed. We settled into our spot and rode along to the sounds of inspirational tunes coming from the CD player. With each passing mile the memories of what will be remembered, when it is remembered at all, as the “Flying J Boondockathon and Flat Fixing Session” faded. We were nearing our goal, Charlotte, MI and the Spartan Chassis Rally. It seemed that the odometer was rolling over faster the closer we got and then we were in Michigan. Now it was just a hop skip and a jump. The Charlotte exit soon came into view and we coasted to the stop sign. Three more blocks found us checking in to the rally, then parking, then finding our electrical connection was too far away for our power cord then Onie telling me we were here and having fun. I agreed as we got in the car and headed out to find an extension cord.

Later, back at the coach, with an extension cord, groceries and a few sundries we got ready for dinner. Two hot dogs, each, with fresh Vidalia onions, chili and sweet hot dog relish filled our tummies and sent us in just before the rain shower came.

May 27, 2003

Onie had a busy schedule today. I did too. She would make a backpack/purse combination in a craft class, 9:00am to 3:00pm. I would visit the GM plant at Lansing and see how the chassis and bodies are put together for the Pontiac Grand Am and the Olds Valero. There being no security concerns in the craft class it went forward as planned. GM apparently had some concerns and cancelled our tours so I rearranged my day. The dishes got washed, the paper got read, the CDs got arranged in our new loose leaf CD holder, the car got washed, I visited Spartan and arranged for them to adjust the ride height on the Marlin to compensate for the new tires and located a notary for when some papers arrive that we have to sign and send back to Sugar Land. I also visited with our neighbors on either side, Gene and Kenny, then Onie got back. An abbreviated happy hour and then we went off to dinner with the rest of the rally members. Back in the coach Onie practiced the guitar while I caught up on these ramblings. I haven’t worked a crossword in two weeks and have two waiting so I will bide each of you adios until another time.

May 28, 2003

Rallies are nice. A lot of meals are provided, there is good fellowship from fellow Rvers as well as the value of their experiences, technical information is available on the feeding and watering of the coach, group entertainment is available for those who are interested but best of all a person doesn’t have to do anything if he doesn’t want to.

Today we slept late. Sometime after ten a knock on the door got me out of bed. It was the folks from AAll Brite. They were here to wash the coach. The rascals weren’t due until eleven and here they were rousting me out of bed, early. Such is life.

I moved the toad so it wouldn’t get wet, rounded up the doormat and rug along with a few items of outdoor furniture and then let the guys get on with their job. We were carrying a healthy collection of bugs and dirt. As a matter of fact a fellow camper told me he saw a colony of bats trying to set up house keeping nearby hoping to live the summer off the bugs on the front of the Marlin.

While the coach was undergoing its exterior cleaning we had breakfast and I got ready to go to a CPR class. We both registered but we also are getting our propane topped off today and it is scheduled for between noon and three. That is my kind of schedule. My younger brother, John, said if God had wanted us to see the sun rise he would have made it later in the day. John said that when he was about 20. Now that I’m nearing senior status I beginning to agree with him on that point. Onie elected to stay with the coach and wait for the propane folks. I went to CPR. It is very important to have a good navigator and I want to keep mine as long as possible.

When I got back from CPR a couple of hours later the propane guys had just left. Seems they were running late what with everyone wanting to top off. I wish I had been there while they were. We had only needed about eighteen gallons. The stuff was only 1.19 a gallon. I was so depressed. I would have had them vent five or ten gallons into the air. At that rate we can afford to waste some. . We have paid over two dollars a gallon so I would like to have bought a lot.

This is our night out. We are going to the Golden Rose, a nice restaurant with piano music. Onie dressed up. So did I. All the men were jealous and all the women were amused. As I have said in the past. We all bring joy; some when we arrive and some when we leave. Onie tends to bring beauty and I tend to bring amusement as well as joy. Twenty-six other souls decided to join us on our outing and we all road into Lansing on a Charlotte ISD bus. It was nice. The weather was good and the conversation matched it.

The “Rose” is a small restaurant set in a rather rural part of Lansing. No hustle and bustle here, inside or out. The piano player was a wonderful gray haired gentleman with a voice as mellow as his personality. In fact he was at a point in his life where he made me feel young. Our waiter did not introduce himself or tell us his life history or try to regale us with his illustrious family tree. He simply did his job, well.

We had a salad, seafood fettuccini, a good cabernet and dessert. My piece of chocolate cake would have fed a party of ten teenagers. I ate it all.

The ride back to the coach was relaxed and quiet the conversation having given way to personal musings or quiet exchanges between partners.

In the coach Onie and I prepared for bed. Further adventures would come with the sunrise, say, around ten o’clock.

May 29, 2003

Today is the Men’s Q&A luncheon. We have submitted questions to the Spartan folks and they will answer them after we have eaten. This is a stag affair so Onie will have to fend for herself.

After the Q&A Onie suggested we check with the mail service to see if the closing papers on Mosby had arrived. While walking to the registration office, that is where the mail is dropped and picked up, we were met by Greg in one of the company vans. He is a Spartan employee who works on the line installing transmissions, “trannys”. He stopped to chat. When he heard we had an important package coming he offered to help us. Half an hour later and several stops we located the packet. The rally coordinator, Andrea had it and she was looking for us. She went with us to the coach, watched while we signed all the documents, notarized what was necessary and then took the new packet so it would make the afternoon pickup. She smiled the whole time and told us she was just doing her job and refusing our offers to pay.

With this task out of the way Onie set off shopping and I began applying 303 to the coach.

Later when she returned we put up her purchases, grilled our dinner and ate outside and then went in for the evening. While she did a few dishes I made a few notes on the laptop then we turned in. We wanted to be well rested for week two.

Our Route for Week 1:

From Coldspring, Texas – East on 150 to Shepherd, TX; North on US 59 to Marshall, TX; East on I 20 to Jackson, MS; North on I 55 to Sikeston, MO; North on I 57 to Effingham, IL; East on I 70 to Indianapolis, IN; North on I 69 to Charlotte, MI