May 26, 2004
LEAVING EDEN
We have worked for months on our new place in Coldspring. Over a third of a mile of edging for shrub and flower beds has been installed. The aroma from a thousand gardenia blooms bathe the air where the Cannas Lilies, Tiger Lilies, Day Lilies, Four O’Clocks, , Rose of Sharon, Mexican Heather, Ice plant, Red and Pink roses, Honeysuckle, Oleander and unnamed flowering plants thrive in their mulched beds. We watched the Narcissus, Dogwood, Redbud, Magnolia and Peach trees bloom and the peaches set. Today we are leaving our Eden. The last few days have been given over to those tasks that fall in the purview of “readying the coach” for the summer. At five fifteen, P.M., the toad was hooked up, Onie closed and locked the gate and we headed east toward highway 59.
We were on the road again heading for more adventures, seeing old friends, making new friends, visiting familiar places and exploring new ones. The next four months we will spend together in less than four hundred square feet, that is smaller than most dens, and love it and each other. Our guitars, books, bibles, music and movies travel with us as well as venison, salmon, halibut, brisket, smoked chicken and feral hog. Onie has labored hard and long with good results to be sure we eat well and healthy this summer. We will also enjoy the fruits of Louisiana and our very loving and loved sister-in-law, Patty Rogers. The canned figs, Mayhaw and Muscadine jelly along with the Blackberry jelly will put us to the test as we try to maintain or lose weight. These items when combined with Onie’s unbleached stone ground whole wheat flour biscuits are the closest thing I’ve ever eaten to heavenly food. Along the way we hope to add fresh vegetables and eggs. From the cold waters of Saint Mary’s bay in Nova Scotia we will add lobster, clams and scallops With all of this plus our clothes, for at least two seasons, and one hundred gallons of fresh water in our holding tank we are near our carrying capacity and total gross vehicle weight, GVW, which is around 32,000 pounds. Following obediently behind is the toad.
We negotiated downtown Coldspring, stopping at the only traffic light in town, a blinking red, and then turned east on 150 past the courthouse and rode smoothly toward Shepherd.
The Marlin slipped down the road, her sleek clean polished skin barely making a whisper as the Cummins sung her song and the Allison hummed in unison. Onie and I rode along in silence going over our mental check list of items we loaded into the coach or items we took out, phone calls made to transfer mail or stop the paper and numerous other tasks that have to be done, or should be done, prior to leaving on an extended trip.
The traffic headed north on 59 was heavy but we waited for an opening and then made the turn north, blended into the traffic, set the cruise and relaxed. It had been a long while since we could just sit but here we were, sitting.
Somewhere around Livingston, thirty miles or so from the house I realized I had forgotten my blue double breasted blazer. That with a pair of gray dress pants and blue cotton pants was to have been my “ dress up” outfit. A big relaxed smile will now do service instead.
The green gentle hills of Polk County never seemed as pretty as we passed Leggett and headed for Lufkin. Remnants of spring wild flowers still decorated the roadside and further back from the road we could see Magnolia trees in bloom.
Early in the morning I had been hoping to get to Texarkana or beyond before we called it quits for our first day. Now as the effects of laboring all day in 90 degree heat, with humidity almost to match, began to set in I wondered if perhaps Lufkin might not be a good resting place.
Lufkin just seemed too near home, only eighty miles or so, so we soldiered on in our reverie. The sun was setting behind the towering pines to our left and the driving seemed to come easier as the day’s heat level dropped with the sun. The Marlin had settled into the work at hand, after a six week rest, and each hill seemed a little easier than those before even though they were getting a little bigger.
Teneha and other quaintly named Texas towns were seen in our rear view mirrors as we tooled on north at our cruising speed of 63 miles per hour. Texas bugs now gave up their lives for the sole purpose of decorating our windshield and the front of the coach. By the time we reached Carthage we felt we were sufficiently adorned but the splatter continued as we motored on to Marshall.
At Marshall we crossed IH 20. Beneath us roared traffic headed toward Dallas and Shreveport.
We had now covered about one hundred eighty miles and in addition a Super Wal-Mart hove into view on our port bow. With the “Jake Brake” assisting we slowed and made the turn into the parking lot. Parked headed down a slight incline we waited for the turbo charger to cool before silencing the Cummins for the day.
Onie put together a great salad after which we readied ourselves for bed. With the Smart Fan running and windows open we retired. A nice breeze gusted through our bedroom window. Unfortunately it brought with it the sound of the generator running on a truck parked close to us. After hearing a half hour serenade I got up, closed the window, turned off the fan started our generator, set the air conditioners on 68 and went back to bed. As the temperature dropped inside the coach Onie and I pulled our covers up underneath our chins and went to sleep.
We had escaped the Texas heat, at last, but in so doing our Eden was behind us.
May 27, 2004
WAL TO WAL
We almost woke with the sun but couldn’t bring ourselves to get out of bed. Each time I stuck my hand out from under the covers I quickly drew it back to the warmth. While the thermostat had been set on 68 it felt like 40 and the deer camp. As anyone my age, or near will attest, there are certain things that happen shortly after we wake that drive us from the warm bed no matter how cold the other surroundings. Such was the case this morning.
Necessary things taken care I began an even more important task making Onie’s coffee and my tea. Those hot beverages and venison sausage served to break our fast.
A quick walk around outside to check the coach, tires, basement doors, toad and tow bar while the Cummins breathed the cool morning air readied us for the road.
We began the last 70 miles to Texarkana with the early morning sun coming in our passenger side windows. The Texas Highway Department has done a great job of improving these roads. The last time we passed this way the road was a challenge to the coach suspension and our innards. Today we glide as if on silk.
A little more than an hour elapsed before we joined the horde on Interstate 30 headed toward points east. Just seven miles further we made our first fuel stop, a Flying J. While the 85 gallons of diesel flowed into the tank I removed the remains of those fool hardy bugs who only last evening tried to buck the power of the Cummins. This morning they were lying on the asphalt pavement of the Flying J. A seeming lack of other coaches meant we could take our time and we did, not leaving until the last bug carcass was scrubbed from the front of the Marlin.
Debugged and fueled for another 800 to 900 miles we got back on the super slide headed east. Arkansas is still trying to equal Texas roads and as proof we were greeted with a sign telling us that we would encounter construction projects four times in the next 140 miles. These could be times that try men’s souls but they won’t try ours. The sun is shining, we are on the road to adventure, our health is good and God is in control. We roll east.
Pine forests, the home of the Dope from Hope, rice fields, rivers, crop dusters and swamps come and go outside our windows. We ride along, already settling into our travel routine.
A nice rest area provides a parking place for a lunch of salmon salad stuffed into fresh Bell pepper. Another walk around to check our rig and we are back rolling.
The west wind presses on our backside as we ease toward West Memphis.
Where I 30 meets I 55 the Walton family built another oasis for the traveler and others seeking goods and services at fair prices. Sure Wal-Mart has driven and will drive some small merchants out of business but then Henry Ford put a lot of farriers out of business to say nothing of buggy builders and whip makers. Some call this a process, others call it unfair. I call it the American way.
Our travel day was over as we wheeled into the parking lot.
Walking shoes in place we traversed the huge parking lot before going inside to pump up the local economy.
Back in the coach we had another great meal, including dessert, before watching TV and setting the first of our journey down for posterity and anyone else interested.
Later we went to bed to the hum of our air conditioners and the diesel generator.
May 28, 2004
COOLER WEATHER?
We are nearing the edge of the time zone change for Central and Eastern Time. As a result when I woke this morning at 5 o’clock it was daylight. There was also the very faint sound of rain on the roof. I listened a few minutes before drifting back to sleep. When I woke the next time it was raining harder but not hard enough for Onie to hear it so more sleep was in order. The next time I stirred the rain was serious and I knew Onie could hear it. She loves the sound of rain. With a little encouragement she stirred and then I saw the smile start. There was just a little glow at first and then the corners of her mouth turned up and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She was hearing the rain. Together we listened until she couldn’t hear it anymore.
It was coffee time.
I got up and started the coffee and tea.
Outside the sun was trying to burn through the overcast clouds. If it managed it would dry the glistening parking lot restoring its matte black finish. In a few minutes it would be time for the morning rig check. I hoped I would be greeted with cooler weather when I opened the door.
After a great meal of breakfast tacos, tea and coffee we were ready to get down to the serious business of the day, travel. I went out and did my morning walk around and found the temperature only moderately cooler, maybe five degrees. Certainly not sweater weather.
We were the first coach into Wally World last night and we were the last to leave this morning. I only mention this so you will understand that we know how to travel, leisurely.
A few twist and turns put us back on IH 55 headed east out of West Memphis and into Missouri, the land of James, as in Jesse, also known as the Show Me State. What they showed us right off the bat was that we should be eternally grateful for air ride suspension. You know back in the horse and buggy days some bright lad came up with the idea of putting leather springs between the bed that held the seat and the axles. Later when the horseless carriage came along we graduated to metal leaf springs, then we added shock absorbers, found that coil springs were softer than leaf and then some smart thinker hooked an air bag to a computer and put it under our coach. To him we offer our eternal thanks for without him our eggs would have been scrambled and the milk churned to butter ere we had progressed ten miles into Mr. James’s domain. Perhaps the state coffers and banks have never recovered from the escapades of James and Company and so have no money for better roads. If that is the case we can rely on Ms. Pelosi of California to come to their rescue with buckets of money. As it was, the rough ride only served to knock the Arkansas dust from our feet.
Missouri is a pretty state and the portion we saw from IH 55 and later IH 57 tended to be farmland with corn, rice, wheat and oats seeming to hold dominance in the crop area. A few cattle and horses were seen but not enough to feed or mount a regiment of Texas Rangers. Somewhere in mid morning we found the sun. A brilliant blue sky with puffy white clouds replaced the gray overcast of the morning and with the clearing weather came a little cooler temp. No air conditioning was needed now, just open the vent and let in the air.
We had been listening to bluegrass music on the TV during breakfast and we continued now as we played CD’s of the Southern Strangers, Williams and Clark and Joe Bass and the Double Mountain Boys. We especially like these groups as we have seen them all and even had a chance to visit with them. They seem to be real down home folks.
We crossed the Mighty Mississippi, broad, brown and boiling toward New Orleans and salt water.
After enduring hours of rock and roll on the Missouri roads we finally made our escape into Illinois. My memory of two years ago was one of worse roads than Missouri and lots of tolls. I truly do thank God for my poor memory. The roads were good and not one toll booth was encountered.
For those of you who have never been in western Illinois it is flat, it is hilly, it is plains, it is woods and today its streams are running out of their banks and brown with silt. We don’t know when it rained here but we do know it must have rained a lot. Everything is beautiful green except for some early wheat that is ready for reaping. Old unpainted barns stand in the middle of the fields providing a nice contrast to the green and reminding us that this state is much older than Texas. One such barn stood but a short distance on a near hill. Boards missing on the western side admitted light into the old interior. As we passed by I could see dust motes dancing in the air and I wondered just what the old barn had witnessed in its days.
The Illinois Highway Patrol, deputy sheriffs and constables are a busy lot today on this stretch of highway. They are working in groups of four units and every few minutes we see them with cars pulled over. It seems that the miscreants always include at least one red car and in one bunch three of the four were red. Do aggressive people buy red cars or do red cars make people aggressive? Can’t you just hear it now? “Your honor I was a mild mannered milque toast until I bought my red car and then I became a maniac. I’m not really guilty of speeding your honor. My car made me do it.” Yeah right! You are just an animal that responds to stimuli not a sentient being. Well, don’t come to Illinois because I bet you get the ticket and not your red car.
Effingham provided another junction and we made good on our turn to IH 70. Now the mileage signs for Indianapolis began to appear and lest we had forgotten the increase in traffic told us there was going to be a sanctioned race this weekend. Yes it would be off the road but not as in four wheeling, it would be as on an oval where it is legal to go 200 miles an hour. Onie reminded me that once we pass Indy the traffic will be coming at us, not going with us.
With the good roads, great music and even better company the miles clicked away and soon we saw the sign welcoming us to Indiana. A few thousand feet into the state we saw a beautiful state run roadside rest facility. We had made our three hundred plus miles for the day and it was time to put the Cummins/Allison/Marlin to bed. With the Jake brake engaged and the turbo winding down we pulled in, came to a stop and shut things down. We had arrived at our night’s stop.
Have I ever mentioned that I do a post trip walk around just like I do pre trip? Well I do. When I opened the door to do the check those of you who follow the news will know what fell on my ears, the songs of thousands of cicadas (better known to us as locusts). It brought back memories of when I was kid, that would be over sixty years ago, and we used to climb trees to catch the things. Later, when the mating was over we would find the bodies lying all over the yard. One of my best memories about this is how their legs had all these little barbs on them and when you stuck them in a little girl’s hair they really hung in good while the girl ran screeching and hollering. Of course any boy in his right mind would be doubled up in laughter by this time. I hope kids somewhere tonight are out playing and doing the same thing because they will never remember what was on TV but they sure will remember the great screams.
After the walk around I began pecking away on the laptop while Onie labored in the kitchen. When her labors were completed she presented us with dinner, low carb tortilla soup minus the tortillas. It was just marrrvelous! Let me do justice here and extend a heartfelt thanks to our friend Diana Noles for sharing the recipe with Onie. It will be a long time favorite of ours.
A woman’s work is never done but we all know men just labor dawn to dusk so after dinner Onie washed dishes while I pecked.
Night settled in around us, the cicadas fell silent and the only thing left to sing us to sleep was the sound of idling diesel truck engines a hundred yards away. The cool night air, yes it was cooler than this morning, filtered in and kept us cool. If we can endure the diesel noise we will sleep with the windows open.
May 29, 2004
ONE, TWO, THREE
With our late retirement we were in no hurry to greet the dawn so we didn’t. The dawn had long since flown when we rose to the sound of neighbors taking their leave.
After breakfast we began getting the coach ready to travel and that included the morning walk around. As I made my way past the front basement door a movement on the ground caught my eye. A cicada lay on the ground, barely moving, apparently having completed his run. There was no energy left in him as I reached to gently retrieve him and place him in a Zip-loc I got from Onie. This little creature was about to be prepared for his last journey. Our grandson Ryan is really buggy for bugs so we will mail this little fellow to him. While there are millions here it is unlikely that he will see any in Pearland, Texas. Knowing him he will share the bug with his cousin Colby so this One will do double duty.
Although everything was secure in the coach and ready for the road we still had a little chore in front of us before we could get back to rolling. For whatever reason most states have closed their sanitary dump stations in the rest areas, Indiana has not. We made the stop and while we were there a trucker out walking his dog came over to unburden himself about the ills of the trucking industry and to give me some advice. What he told me about the plight of truckers went straight through my blond head. I was a blond in my younger days, you know. When he got to the advice I think I listened a little more carefully because I’m always curious when folks start making pronouncements that begin with “You should”. I’m particularly interested when these folks are young enough to be my children, or are my children, and have the temerity to think they have so much knowledge that they can share some with me and still have enough left over for themselves. Why I’ve seen these people make recommendations to me and then do the dumbest things possible and if they had just asked for a little guidance I could have saved them a lot of trouble. When you have as much wisdom as Onie and me giving advice to people isn’t going to diminish our wealth one whit. We could probably talk for days and never scratch the surface of our storehouse of wisdom. When I could stand it no longer I left this young fellow talking to the wind and himself. I’m not sure which was the wiser.
With the holding tanks empty we pulled back on the highway at 10:45.
A few miles down the road we crossed Big Walnut Creek, a generous sized waterway with a sand and rock bottom. Just being able to see the bottom details, somewhat, told me the rain had been gone for a while, the runoff was easing and the creek was clearing. It looked like it would soon be fishable, at least to a Texan.
Settled in to the routine of driving I checked my phone and saw where son David had called last evening. Returning his call I caught him on his way to a milestone event. His daughter, Allison, is graduating from high school, today. This is the first of the nine to reach this place in life and what a grand place it is. All knowledge known to human kind has been learned in 12 or 13 years by these young people. Parents, grandparents, world leaders, business geniuses and others struggling to make intelligent informed decisions need but turn to these paragons of virtue and learning to have all our questions answered and our greatest fears alleviated. In spite of this overwhelming superiority of knowledge Allison still remains a nice person and a good kid. We wish her all the best as she embarks on her college studies this fall. She is a good student and takes with her the CNA she earned while a junior in high school. The kids in her classes should take note of her as she may well be setting the grade curve. And this would be number Two. It seems just yesterday our own were graduating but that is a story for another time.
Some things in life seem like they can’t follow the natural flow of things. That’s the way it was with the cicadas this afternoon. We all know they live underground for seventeen years, emerge, mate and then die. Some of these bugs just can’t wait so they are plastering themselves on our windshield. Fortunately they seem to be more air than anything else so many of them are carried away by the air stream over and around the coach rather than impacting us. Those who do will never have the guts to try it a second time.
Oh the pleasure of good roads. All seems right when we are rolling over seamless smooth asphalt and we were doing just that today. With the sun shining we followed the black asphalt road to our next fuel stop.
We had been to this Flying J before. It is one of the older ones and not quite as easy to get in and out of as the newer ones but they are still RV friendly and have great fuel prices. After topping off, this will probably be our last fuel stop before entering Canada; we pulled around and took on fresh drinking water. Watered and fueled we headed for Michigan.
Michigan lay just around a few more curves and over the next so many hills. Once we negotiated those we saw the welcome to Michigan sign and even without it we would have known we had arrived by the lake that is bisected by the road. On the portion to our west were two boats with fishermen trying their luck in the drizzle. Yes it had been raining for a while and seemed like it might do so for a while longer but it really didn’t matter. We were nearing the end of our trip to Charlotte and reckoned we would be there around five. We were and the rain had stopped.
Every rally is run by a bevy of volunteers. These include the parking crew that directs coaches to parking places and helps them back in without damaging themselves or others. Even parking crews have to eat and ours was doing just that. We unhooked the toad and reconnoitered the area to find a good spot; i.e.-one where the satellite would work. After one false start we found such a place with the help of George, last name unspellable, who is a Skip. A word of explanation here might be in order to help those of you uninitiated in the jargon of full timers, folks who live in their rigs. A Skip is shorthand for SKP which is shorthand for Escapee. An Escapee in this case is a member of a club in Livingston, Texas that serves the needs of full timers. The last time I checked they had over 9,000 members. George and his wife Phyllis were Houstonians until three years ago when they chucked it all and moved into their 39 foot Dutch Star where, according to George, they live twelve and a half months a year. We were talking about parking places before we chased that rabbit, I think. Anyway we found a spot with good TV reception and were just getting ready to set up when part of the parking crew returned. George and I immediately launched into our argument as to why we should be able to stay where we were as we both wanted the good TV reception anticipating our stay of a week or more. The two fellas listened very patiently, waiting for the two Texans to run out of hot air. Finally realizing that we were not close to losing wind they decided to interrupt. It appeared we had won our case when the guys said we could stay right where we were as they probably wouldn’t try to put any coaches in there anyway. Three days ago there had been five or six inches of water standing where we were parked and by the way more rain is on the way. A thirty thousand plus pound motor home stuck in the mud is not a pretty sight nor is it easy to extricate. George and I have both seen that happen and George even allowed as how he had seen the entire front end pulled from under a coach mired in the mud when it wouldn’t budge when a tractor tried to pull it out. Well George and I stomped around the area for awhile before I decided that I hadn’t brought a big enough shovel nor heavy enough chain to permit me to get a signal. I moved.
Across the road on higher ground we began the setup process just as sprinkles began falling. I looked across the road as George ran inside his coach and sat on the coach. I his mirror I could see his TV on. Onie and I got the Marlin leveled up, land power connected and the slides out and then she started dinner.
I sat down to peck a little.
Onie lost a sister earlier this year, our dear Ann, and her husband Bobby’s, Lovey. Today Ann would have been 52. Like so many loved ones we didn’t see her as much as we would have liked and for the time being she is beyond our reach. We miss her. We miss her smile. We miss her quite laugh. We miss her warm hugs. We just miss her.
After dinner, more taco soup, I sat back down with the laptop and Onie watched a little local TV. When she grew tired she retired to the bedroom and the small TV and I turned on the news. It could almost have been Houston news except the local mayhem wasn’t as rampant and the weather forecast held out cooler temps, lows in the 50s and highs in the 70s and a very real possibility of severe thunderstorms over the next two days, I sure am glad I moved to higher ground.
When my energy was ebbing I tried my hand at Spider Solitaire but without Onie to compete with it wasn’t so much fun.
It was getting on toward one o’clock am local time when my phone rang. On the other end was a very excited young boy, Kyle, our Alabama grandson. Kyle began racing go-karts a few weeks ago. His Dad, Gary, promised Kyle a cart if he made straight As. Kyle made the marks and got the cart. A few weeks ago we watched him race. He was in the Amateur Rookie class, sounds redundant doesn’t it but then it is Alabama. He ran well even and though he lost his brakes he managed to finish second. The next week he won and the following week he won. That was a total of three wins for him in that class so he was bumped to the next class, Purple Plate. Tonight was his first race in that class and he won. He was bubbling over with excitement as he told me how he had spun out early in the race but had recovered to be the winner. The fact that he won two hundred fifty dollars didn’t excite him near as much as the fact that this was his third win in a row. And that was Three.
I was thrilled for Kyle and decided that I had a few more banalities left in me so I pecked a while longer before turning in around 2. As I drifted off to sleep I heard a train whistle in the distance.