Meandering Down The Highway

Meandering Down The Highway

We left the Verde Valley ( Arizona ) Thousand Trails in early April and took Interstate 17 north about 55 miles to Flagstaff , climbing all the way. Our site at the Thousand Trails was at 3200 feet elevation, and when we hit Interstate 40 in Flagstaff we were at 7,000 feet. For this stretch of the trip, Miss Terry followed me in the van, giving our old Detroit diesel engine less of a load.

This route is about 50 miles longer than taking State Route 260 from Camp Verde east to Show Low, but that route involves about eleven miles of climbing 6% and 7% grades on a twisty two lane road. Our bus would not handle that very well. We’ve been over that route before, in our first motorhome, a 36 foot Class A, and have found that the longer route actually is almost as fast, and much easier driving.

The bus did fine. I got to just under 30 miles per hour on a couple of the steepest grades but I stayed in the right lane, kept the transmission geared down so the temperature gauge stayed in the comfort zone, and we chugged right along. At one point a passing trucker called me on the CB radio and asked what year the bus was and if we had converted it ourselves. I told him the details, then apologized for slowing down traffic, but he said “You’re doing fine, we’ve got an entire extra lane to pass you in. You just take your time and arrive safe and with your bus in one piece.” Some truckers get ticked off when they have to pull out to pass us, but this fellow was a real gentleman, and we chatted for a few minutes before he was out of radio range. In Flagstaff, we pulled off the highway long enough to hook up the van, and then headed east on Interstate 40.

I sure do love my new PressurePro tire monitoring system! It was so nice not to have to crawl around on my hands and knees checking tire pressures with a gauge before we got ready to head out. Instead, I just scrolled the monitor through our tire readout and confirmed everything was shipshape. How cool is that? We also hit a rough stretch of roadway somewhere on I-40 and at first it felt like we had a flat tire. But the PressurePro monitor showed all was well, and before long the pavement smoothed out and we were fine.

For someone who went through a front end blowout like we did a few months ago, that peace of mind is priceless! I sent Mike and Pat McFall an e-mail as soon as we arrived at our campground to thank them again for their great service in getting us set up with our system. If you don’t have a tire monitoring system, check out their website at www.pressureprosystem.com. Having had it just this short time, I can tell you that I would never be without one again.

We stopped at the Flying J in Winslow for fuel, and got back on the interstate for another 30 miles, getting off in Holbrook to follow State Route 77 south 50 miles to our old hometown of Show Low, where we took a site at Show Low Lake Campground, with just over 200 miles under our belts for the day.

Show Low Lake Campground is owned by the city, and operated by Recreation Resource Management. We stayed here several weeks last year, and registered for three weeks this time around, while we visit my daughter’s family and spoil our grandkids. It should be interesting. Two of the workampers were having a really nasty argument while we were parking, with lots of screaming and cursing going on. The company that manages the campground for the city recently had an ad in the Gypsy Journal for workampers, and I think I can understand why.

Family Time

During much of our stay, it was cold in Show Low, Arizona! Our first night there, the temperature dropped down to 33 degrees, which is about 40 degrees below my acceptable comfort level. Would somebody please turn up the heat? But we’d put up with just about anything to be able to spend time with my daughter Tiffany and her family.

Our youngest granddaughter, Destiny, would be a year old in a couple of weeks, and when we arrived she had just begun taking a few tentative steps. What a difference a couple of days make! In no time at all she was walking all over the place. Sure, sometimes she looked like a drunken sailor, and she plopped down on her bottom more than once, but she got right back up and was at it again. It is so beautiful watching a child discover the new freedom walking gives them.

The White Mountains of Arizona includes some beautiful scenery, and we spent a lot of time enjoying it. While we were in Show Low, we introduced Tiffany’s family to our hobby of geocaching, and I do believe we have some new converts. Our first cache of the day was located at the Pintail Lake Wildlife Viewing Area, just north of Show Low, and five year old Hailey was delighted to find a box of “treasure.” As we were leaving the cache we ran into another couple coming to find it, and exchanged pleasantries with them for a few minutes.

To find another cache, we walked a trail overlooking the Mogollon Rim, the giant up-thrust of pine forest that runs diagonally across north-central Arizona . By the time we were done we must have walked between two and three miles, which I should be doing everyday. As I’ve shared with you before, geocaching is the perfect RV hobby. We can do it anywhere, it doesn’t cost a fortune to buy the equipment you need to get started, it’s fun, and the exercise will do us all a lot of good. We returned to Tiffany’s house for steaks that son-in-law Jim grilled, and I knew my daughter was hooked when I noticed her looking at GPS units online.

As much as Terry and I enjoy visiting with our family and friends in our old hometown, it takes a toll on us. Poor Miss Terry’s allergies had her eyes and nose running nonstop, and the thin air at 6500 to 7000 feet leaves me short of breath and tired a lot. I recognized the signs of altitude sickness and knew that I needed to take things a little easier until my body acclimated. Of course, about the time that happened, it would be time for us to head on down the road again. But it’s worth it just to spend some time with my daughter, and to play with those granddaughters of ours.

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New Headlights

For a long time, we have wanted to swap out the 24 volt headlights on our MCI bus conversion for a 12 volt system. Our old 24 volt headlights were very antiquated, the wiring was brittle and frayed, and it was time to upgrade. The 24 volt bulbs are also hard to find and expensive. We try to avoid driving at night, but sometimes things happen and we find ourselves on the highway after dark. When that happens, I want the best illumination we can get.

While we were in Show Low, my son-in-law, Jim Robinson, spent one afternoon helping me rewire our headlight system and install new 12 volt headlights. We tapped into our house battery bank, installed a new off/on switch and new dimmer switch, and had the job finished in short order. I couldn’t have done it without Jim’s help, and I really appreciate him spending his day off helping me out.

Moving On

We never seem to have enough time when we visit Show Low. There were several friends we had hoped to spend some time with that we never got around to touching base with. Of course, if my daughter Tiffany had her way we’d just pull the wheels off the bus and stay put. We love visiting our family and friends, and it always hurts to leave them, but our wanderlust can’t be stifled. There are far too many places to go and things to see.

We enjoyed our time in our old home town. Not because we give a hoot for the community any more – too much has changed and little of it for the better, but for the time with our old friends, and especially Tiffany and her family. My little girl has grown into a beautiful and delightful young woman, and not only am I as proud of her as I can be as her father, but I cherish the adult friendship we share. The hardest part of the fulltime RV lifestyle is saying goodbye, especially to people we love so much, and there were lots of tears on everybody’s part when it was time to say our goodbyes. We may not have as much time with Tiffany, Jim, and the girls as we would like to have, but we try to make it quality time when we are together.

We pulled out of Show Low and took U.S. Highway 60 east through rolling hill country, skirting the edge of the White Mountains . A little over an hour later we pulled into Springerville, and I stopped in a parking lot to call Mike and Pat McFall, whom we got our PressurePro tire monitoring system from. The darned thing kept beeping every 30 seconds and it was driving me crazy! Not a fast high pitched alarm beep to warn of low or high pressure, just a single beep, over and over again. Pat was quick to diagnose the problem, and it was operator error, of course. If I’m the operator, that is a given, I just wanted to know what I had done wrong!

As it turns out, when I had adjusted the pressure on the van’s tires a few days earlier, I had not left the screw on sensor caps off for the required minute before reattaching them, and they were sending a message to the monitor inside the bus that something was amiss. I took the sensors off, waited the proper amount of time to put them back on, and everything worked fine. Having the ability to call someone on a weekend morning and have them talk me through a problem is worth a lot to me, and it’s why we chose to deal with Mike and Pat when we got our PressurePro. Thanks again for your help, Pat.

Stopping to call Pat also gave us an excuse to visit one of our favorite stores, Western Drug, in Springerville. This is a true old time western general store, where you can buy anything from a new rifle to a trout lure, to tools, food, craft supplies, clothing, or a bottle of booze. Whenever we’re in Springerville, I always stop just to wander the aisles and look at all of the goodies.

I also wanted to get a photo of the Madonna of the Trail statue on Main Street in Springerville. This is one of twelve identical statues erected in 1928 and 1929 by the National Society of Daughters of the American Revolution across the country, from Bethesda , Maryland to Upland , California . The statues honor pioneer women, and show a steadfast mother with an infant in one arm and carrying a rifle in the other, while a second child clings to her skirts. Men may have explored the West, but it was the women who settled it.

New Mexico

From Springerville, we continued east and soon crossed into New Mexico. Somewhere near Quemado a foolhardy antelope, one of dozens we saw all day, started to jump out in front of us, but thought better of that plan at the last minute and reversed his course to scoot under a barbed wire fence and race off in the opposite direction.

We were tempted to stop for pie in Pie Town , but decided that our diets deserved better than that and kept on going. But don’t you just love a place called Pie Town ? Near Magdalena we pulled into a rest area to take some photos of the huge antennae pointed toward outer space that comprise the Very Large Array (VLA), a collection of radio telescopes. If these giant dishes look familiar to you, it may be because you saw them featured in the 1997 Jodie Foster movie Contact, in which she plays a scientist trying to contact other life forms from beyond our horizon.

We continued west, fueled up in Socorro, then took Interstate 25 north a few miles until U.S. 60 split off again, and began a long series of climbs as we motored east through forgotten little towns like Willard, Encino, and Yeso, which consist mostly of empty buildings and deserted streets. All of these little towns have a parking lot somewhere along the highway where one could pull over for the night. Willard was actually very busy, because it was the headquarters for crews fighting a forest fire to the north. One area was dotted with dozens of small tents where the firefighters can rest after their shifts on the fire line, and we saw a crew unloading food and supplies.

The weather had been fine and the bus was running great. We had hoped to make it to Clovis , New Mexico , but as we were driving through Fort Sumner Miss Terry spotted a cloud of dust in the air ahead and commented that it looked ominous. Just as we passed the turnoff to Billy the Kid’s grave, it felt like the old outlaw slammed us broadside when a huge gust of wind rocked the bus. We should have turned around right there and found a place to park, but it was only another 60 miles to Clovis , so we decided to push on. Big mistake!

Every mile we drove the wind got worse, and our speed was down to nothing as I fought the steering wheel. As the sun started to dip below the horizon behind us, we knew we needed to get off the road. About 30 miles east of Fort Sumner we came to a small roadside pullout and spotted another Class A motorhome parked in it. There was room for our bus too, so we called it a day with 425 miles behind us. I walked back to check on the van, and the blowing sand felt like birdshot as it peppered my face and hands.

The weather report said the winds, with gusts over 55 miles an hour, would die down by daylight, so we let it rock us to sleep and hoped for calm weather the next day.

High Winds and A Big Cross

After being pounded by strong wind all night, we awoke the next morning to just a stiff breeze. While Terry was getting herself ready for the day, I walked around the bus and van, and everything was covered in sand from the nasty storm we had experienced the night before.

We fired up the bus and hit the road, continuing east on U.S. Highway 60, passing through Clovis , New Mexico , and soon afterward crossing the state line into Texas . At Canyon , U.S. 60 joined with Interstate 27, and we followed it north a few miles to Amarillo , where we picked up Interstate 40 eastbound. The breeze had turned into strong winds again, and as we cruised west, they buffeted us from the side or head on, depending on which way the road curved. I kept the bus between 55 and 60 and stayed in the right hand lane, letting faster traffic blow on by.

When we built the bus, Terry was thrilled to find side windows with solid dual pane upper sections and small crank out jalousie panes at the bottom. I wasn’t too thrilled at first, but they have worked out very well. Even though we don’t have awnings, we can leave the windows open for cross ventilation even in steady rain, when other folks are closing their regular slider windows to stay dry.

However, this day the winds were so strong that the windows kept blowing open, several inches at a time. We were afraid they would get damaged, so at Groom, Texas we pulled into the parking lot of the Largest Cross in the Western Hemisphere (or is it?) and spent some time taping the windows shut with packing tape. We were lucky. I overheard the fellow in a big motorhome parked next to us telling someone on the phone that his awning had blown out and over the top of the coach before being torn almost off.

We have driven past this roadside shrine many times over the years, but never stopped to check it out before. It consists of the huge cross, and sculptures depicting the Twelve Stations of the Cross, symbolizing the crucifixion of Christ. Even if you are not a religious person, this is an interesting collection of artwork. The 190 foot tall cross dwarfed the life size statues around it, as well as the semis and RVs that were parked there.

There is some debate over whether this is really the largest cross in America or the Western hemisphere, as the signs and official website state, since a cross in Elgin, Illinois is supposed to be slightly larger. No matter which is actually bigger, it is one huge cross! I wonder how it withstands those west Texas winds that never seem to let up?

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Oklahoma And Arkansas

Back on the highway, we crossed into Oklahoma , took on fuel at Sayre, and scooted on across the state. Traffic was moderate in Oklahoma City , even at 6 p.m. on a Sunday evening. The wind had calmed down by then, and we planned to stop at an Indian casino in Shawnee , about 35 miles east of the big city, for the night. But when we arrived, we learned that they were closed and were moving to another location, so we continued on and pulled into the Golden Pony Casino at Okemah. The RV/truck entrance was up a steep ramp that gave us some concern, but we made it okay, only to find that the only place to park was on a slanting hillside next to a stinky hog trailer. We checked our cell phones and discovered we had just one bar of access, and it was fading in and out.

We have learned that when something just doesn’t feel right, it’s better to move on if we can. There was nothing terribly wrong with the place, but I just did not like it, so we jumped back on the highway, drove east another ten miles to Henryetta, and parked between a couple of semis in the huge dirt lot next to a restaurant called the Pig Out Palace. We went inside and asked permission to spend the night, and then enjoyed their buffet.

The next morning we were on the road by 9 a.m. and drove east on Interstate 40, passing through the lovely rolling green hills of eastern Okalahoma, then crossing into Arkansas. We stopped at the Arkansas Welcome Center near Fort Smith for a stretch and walk around the bus, and fired up our computers to check e-mail. I sure do enjoy having the Verizon air card. It is so convenient to be online just about anywhere and everywhere we go.

Arkansas is a beautiful state, and we marveled at the lush green fields and forests we were driving past, such a change from the barren landscape of Arizona , New Mexico , and Texas that we had left behind us the last couple of days. Miss Terry commented that even though she lived in Arizona for most of her adult life, this part of the world just seems to suit her soul so much more.

Our original plan was to drive to West Memphis , Arkansas and spend the night at one of the truck stops before continuing on to the Cherokee Landing Thousand Trails preserve near Middleton , Tennessee . But we made excellent time and when we stopped for fuel, it was just 4:30 p.m. We still had plenty of energy and daylight left, so we decided to drive the final 80 miles to the campground and get settled in.

We took Interstate 55 south and crossed the Mississippi River . I think I’m getting a handle on my bridge phobia, Miss Terry noticed that I didn’t snivel one time as we crossed the river. We skirted the south edge of Memphis on Interstate 240, then followed State Route 385 east to State Route 57, a nice two lane road that took us through several charming small towns with beautiful antebellum homes and friendly folks who waved as we drove past.

We arrived at Cherokee Landing just after 6 p.m. and checked in with the ranger. I don’t think we’ve ever had a warmer reception at a campground, except maybe at a couple of Escapees parks. By the time we dumped our holding tank and got the bus parked in our site, a half dozen or so of our neighbors had came by to say hello and welcome us. We had never met any of these folks before, though Cathy Holcomb from Auburn , New York , said she almost stopped at our mail service in Boulder City , Nevada a while back to see if she could subscribe to the Gypsy Journal there. We saved her the price of a postage stamp and signed her up right there.

We covered 1,350 miles in three long days of traveling. Our average speed was between 55 and 62 miles per hour, and we spent $950 on fuel, which comes out to about 70 cents per mile. We did not spend any money on RV parks, spending one night in a roadside rest area near Melrose , New Mexico and the next night at a truck stop in Henryetta , Oklahoma . This was not a typical RV trip, and not the way we recommend folks travel. But now we have several days to sightsee and relax. We had never spent any time in this part of the country before, and there is a lot to see and do.

A Year Of The Gypsy Journal On CD

We are flattered by the great response we get from our loyal readers. While some folks pass their Gypsy Journal along to others after they finish reading them, others keep them for reference on places they plan to visit in the future. A great number of Gypsy Journal readers purchase some or all of our back issues. However, we recognize that many people, especially fulltimers, just do not have the space to tote along a big stack of newspapers. Also, as supplies of certain issues become depleted, we have no way to reprint them. But I think we have found a solution that will work for many of you.

We have created a CD of all five annual issues of the Gypsy Journal for the years 2003 - 2007, in PDF format that can be opened on any computer with Adobe Reader. Many computers come with the program already installed, but if you don’t have Adobe Reader, you can get it as a free download on the Internet by logging on to www.adobe.com. The CD is an exact reproduction of the Gypsy Journal, just as it looks in the printed version, but in an easy to store and use electronic format. To order, send check or money order for $50 for all five years (2003-2007) to Gypsy Journal, 1400 Colorado #C-16, Boulder City, Nevada 89005, or log onto our web site at www.gypsyjournal.net and order from our online bookstore with your credit card.

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Tennessee Tourists

After our three day mad dash across the country, we slept in our first day at Cherokee Landing, and I didn’t do much at all the rest of the day. I answered a few e-mails, made some phone calls, tweaked the Google ads on our websites, and visited with a couple of folks who stopped by the bus to say hello. Miss Terry seemed to have some pent up energy, because she did several loads of laundry and worked on cleaning up a lot of the sand and grit we accumulated inside the bus from the nasty windstorm we ran into in New Mexico .

Once we had time to unwind from our trip, we got to play tourist in southwest Tennessee . One morning we left the bus at the Thousand Trails campground and made a big loop through Selmer, Adamsville, Savannah , Shiloh National Military Park , and back to the bus. It was an interesting day.

Our first stop was Adamsville , Tennessee , where we visited the home of legendary Sheriff Buford Pusser. You may remember Sheriff Pusser’s story, which was made famous in the Waking Tall movies and books of the 1970s.

Sheriff Pusser was a larger than life lawman who took on the gangsters and corrupt politicians who had turned the area along the Tennessee – Mississippi state line into a vice den, where bootlegging, gambling, prostitution, and murder were daily activities. Sheriff Pusser succeeded in cleaning up the area, but he paid a terrible price along the way. He was shot eight times, stabbed seven times, saw his wife murdered in an ambush that disfigured him, and was himself killed in an automobile crash that many still suspect was no accident. Today the Sheriff’s home is a museum dedicated to his life and career, and it was interesting to learn more of the story behind the story. I came away even more impressed with the fearless lawman who didn’t know the meaning of backing down.

Our next stop was the battlefield at Shiloh , where 44,000 Confederate troops clashed with a force of 40,000 Union soldiers in a bloody two day battle in April, 1862. Terry and I are history buffs, and we always enjoy visiting the places that we have only read about in books before.

We stopped at the Visitor Center and watched the 24 minute video on the battle, then drove the loop road past the park’s 156 monuments and hundreds of cannon and interpretive tablets. The battlefield is a lovely pastoral place that belies the horrible events that took place here.

Another day, we drove to Jackson , about 45 miles north of the Thousand Tails campground, and toured the small but interesting International Rock-a-Billy Hall of Fame and Museum. Rock-a-Billy is that the unique blend of early rock and roll and hillbilly music which became popular in the early 1950s thanks to acts like Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Bill Haley.

Located in a downtown building, the museum includes musical instruments, photos of well known musicians, and music memorabilia. Every year the Hall of Fame hosts a Rockabilly Festival where some of the biggest acts in the music genre come to perform. Terry and I were impressed with the mural on the side of the building, which had us tapping our toes just looking at it.

Our next stop was Casey Jones Village , on the north side of Jackson . The village includes the original home where the legendary railroad engineer lived, which is now a railroad museum, the excellent Old Country Store restaurant, and a collection of interesting small shops. Casey Jones has been immortalized in song and folklore ever since the April 30, 1900 train wreck that took his life near Vaughan , Mississippi .

The story was familiar history to me. I remember my dad playing his guitar and singing the Ballad of Casey Jones when I was a kid, and I used to imagine myself in the cab of a steam locomotive. After checking out the locomotive on display at the museum, I think I’m just as glad I do my traveling in the cab of a bus. The creature comforts are far superior.

Casey Jones Village Marketing Director Deborah Laman treated us to lunch in the restaurant and spent some time visiting with us and telling us about the history of the place. The food was excellent, and after our meal we spent some time wandering around the store and checking out all of the neat antiques on display.

From the village, we drove to Mount Calvary Cemetery to visit the trainman’s grave, only to find the gates locked. We called St. Mary’s Catholic Church, which administers the cemetery, and were told it is only open on Sundays. I sniveled a bit, told them we were only in town for the day, and they relented and said that if we went to the church, they would loan us a key to get inside. We backtracked several miles, because the church is very close to Casey Jones Village , got a key and returned to the cemetery to take some photos of the grave. Then we backtracked to the church again, returned the key, and headed back south toward our bus at the Thousand Trails.

There are cat people and there are dog people. I’m a dog person. I can’t tell you how many dogs I have lived with over the years, mostly German shepherds. But I also have a soft spot for the hunting breeds, having owned a couple of wonderful Springer and Brittany spaniels in the past. So I had a good time touring the National Bird Dog Museum at Grand Junction , Tennessee .

West Tennessee has a rich bird dog heritage, and it is the birthplace of the American pointing dog field trials. The museum includes the Field Trial Hall of Fame, honoring the greatest hunting dogs of all time and their handlers.

We had a good time admiring all of the dog related artwork, from sculptures of hunting dogs that greet visitors to the museum, to the beautiful paintings of dogs and hunting scenes inside. The museum also has a nice library of outdoor books and periodicals, and I recognized several titles that once graced my own bookshelves.

As it turned out, the only real live dog at the museum was not a hunting breed at all, but rather a delightful and lovable Dalmatian that I instantly fell in love with. Lottie Dot belongs to the lady on duty at the museum, and although she is totally deaf, she is a certified therapy dog, working with sick children, the elderly, and veterans at the Memphis V.A. hospital.

I spent at least a half hour crawling around on the floor with this gentle and loving dog, and loved every minute of it. Though Miss Terry and I made the decision not to own another pet at this point in our lives, I suspect that if Lottie Dot had followed me out to the van, she’d be sleeping at my feet right now. But I know she has important work to do here at home.

We enjoyed playing tourist in southwestern Tennessee , but I was more than ready to hit the road when the time came. Cherokee Landing is a nice enough campground, and it’s a good place to go to get away from it all, but there is not a lot going on there. Most of our neighbors were campers, not RVers, and there is a difference. They were nice people and really made us feel welcome. Most of them return here every season, many arranging extended stays. But they really don’t understand the fulltime RV lifestyle and folks like ourselves, who are happiest when we are going someplace new.

Life On Wheels

We pulled out of our site at Cherokee Landing Thousand Trails preserve, made a pass through the dump station to empty our holding tank, hooked the van to our Blue Ox tow bar, gave the PressurePro monitor a quick scan to be sure all of our tires were at their proper inflation, and rolled through the campground gate at about 9:30 a.m. We drove north from Middleton to Jackson , Tennessee , got onto Interstate 40 eastbound and took up a comfortable position in the right hand lane, letting eighteen wheelers and faster traffic go on past.

We didn’t need it, but we stopped at the Flying J in Fairview , Tennessee to top off our tank. We could only take on 41 gallons of diesel, but it gave us an opportunity to stretch our legs, and at $3.94 a gallon, I didn’t figure we’d see it anywhere cheaper anytime soon. You know things are tough when you think diesel at $3.94 is a bargain!

I wasn’t looking forward to all of the traffic congestion and road construction in Nashville . But Miss Terry, always looking for ways to make my life easier, had been studying the road atlas, and found a bypass from the west side of the metropolitan area to the north, State Route 155, known locally as the Briley Parkway . What a find! The parkway is a lightly traveled divided four lane limited access highway that took us in a twelve mile long sweeping curve around the north side of Nashville and deposited us on Interstate 65, well clear of all of the city traffic. Once we were on Interstate 65, it was only 60 more miles to Bowling Green . Did I ever mention how much I appreciate my pretty wife, and that I could not function without her?

When we arrived at the campus, some members of the Life on Wheels staff were already on hand. Once we unhooked the van and were parked, we dragged out lawn chairs and joined everybody for happy hour. It was nice to see everybody.

Terry and I both slept restlessly that night, and awoke the morning feeling tired before we even got out of bed. We spent the day meeting and greeting students coming in for Life on Wheels, renewing acquaintances with the other instructors, and generally socializing, which is a part of what we do on registration day. I was delighted to have several students say they are regular blog readers, and it was nice to get to know them.

As with much of the RV industry, the high fuel prices are taking a toll on Life on Wheels attendance. In Bowling Green , we were down over 60 students from last year. Terry and I went to Life on Wheels during our first month on the road, nine years ago, and we are still referring back to lessons we learned there. It is the single best investment you can make in learning about the RV lifestyle. Many of our students don’t even own RVs yet, but they come anyway, and leave better prepared to make the right buying decision. To learn more about this great program, check out their website at www.rvlifeonwheels.com.

I teach ten 90 minute classes at a 2½ day long Life on Wheels session, and in Bowling Green , by the end of the first day I was already worn out. By the end of the day I felt like I usually do after the conference ends. I hadn’t slept well for some reason, something that happens to me often during our teaching gigs. My mind just won’t shut off at bed time, and instead of resting I find myself thinking about the next day’s classes.

The Friday session was very rough for me. One of the worst I can remember experiencing in a long time. Sometime early in the morning I woke up sick to my stomach, aching all over, and my chest was hurting. Over the next hour or so it got so bad that I was seriously contemplating waking Terry and asking her to get me to an emergency room.

I finally dropped off to sleep and woke up again about 6 a.m., still feeling puny. It was the first time in all of my years of teaching at Life on Wheels and other RV events that I really did not think I could make it through my classes. My first class was at 8 a.m., and I decided to give it a shot, hoping I could give the students what they came for. It was a long, long day, but sometime around the third class of the day I started to get my second wind, and muddled on through. As soon as the last class was over I went back to the bus and took an hour long nap, and woke up feeling somewhat better.

I love teaching at Life on Wheels, but I pay a price for it. But when a student comes up to me, as a lady did one evening, and tells me that she has been terrified of leaving home and her familiar surroundings to go fulltiming with her husband, but that my classes helped put her mind at ease and now she’s looking forward to it, suddenly the aching back, the sore feet, and the ragged throat are worth it. I really do love teaching and sharing, and feel honored to be able to help newbies learn about this wonderful lifestyle of ours.

Lexington

Usually when a Life on Wheels session ends, Terry and I find someplace to relax and decompress for a few days before we do much else. We need the time just to catch up on our rest, have some quiet moments together, and to go over the feedback forms the students fill out about our different classes. But after Bowling Green , I had a series of medical appointments scheduled at the VA hospital in Lexington , Kentucky .

We left Western Kentucky University on Sunday morning about 10 a.m., and took Interstate 65 north. The wind that had rocked the bus all night long continued to batter us, slamming us broadside over and over again. The rain was heavy, making visibility poor. It was a terrible day to be on the road, and the kind of day when we usually sit still and wait out the storm. But with appointments at the VA hospital the next day, we had no choice.

70 miles north of Bowling Green, at Elizabethtown, we turned east on the Bluegrass Parkway, a nice divided four lane highway that took us 80 miles east to Lexington, passing through beautiful rolling hill country that was shrouded in rain and mist. The rain let up a bit, and the wind was now coming from the rear quarter instead of a full broadside, which made driving a bit easier.

We covered the 150 miles to the campground at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington in about 3½ hours, which was not too bad considering the bad weather and the fact that we ran into a detour just as we came into town that took us out of our way down surface streets instead of onto the faster Circle Route. When we arrived it was cold, raining hard, and the wind was strong enough to blow you over. By the time I stopped at the dump station, got the bus parked in our site, and the utilities hooked up, I was freezing. To give you an idea of just how bad the storm was, here is a picture of a trailer that lost its awning at the Horse Park , and there was another RV parked three sites down from it that had suffered the same fate.

Most of our time in Lexington was spent on a series of medical appointments. The folks At the VA hospital take very good care of me, and try to work with our traveling schedule as much as possible. I’ve been trying to lose weight for a while now, and was proud of myself for dropping over 25 pounds. However, I was also disappointed that I put a couple of those pounds back on during the last week with all of the dining out we did in Bowling Green . Nancy Hazelton, my primary care provider at the VA, was still pleased to see the progress I have made and encouraged me to keep at it. I know that I’ll never be thin, but I’d love to see my toes again someday.

Among the fun stuff I had to look forward to while in Lexington was the dreaded colonoscopy. What fun! But I lost some family members to cancer, including colon cancer, so that puts me in a high risk group and is something that needs to be monitored.

The procedure itself is really not that bad, thanks to the wonders of drugs that quickly take you to la-la land while the doctors do their thing. But the prep… oh, the prep! Ladies and gentleman, there truly is hell on earth!

First of all, you have to fast the day before the procedure. I’m not a fasting kind of guy. I’m half-fast at best. The fun starts with drinking a bottle of chilled magnesium citrate, which tastes like salty 7-Up. It’s not the most pleasant beverage I’ve ever had, but it’s not too bad. Then, a little later, comes the main course. I had to drink a gallon of a concoction called GoLytely, and if there was ever an example of no truth in advertising, this is it! The stuff tastes like what I imagine a combination of salt water, yak urine, and diesel fuel would, and my gag reflex was working overtime. And I can assure you that you will not go lightly! You will go heavily, frequently, and without stop. You will have eruptions that will put Yellowstone National Park ’s Old Faithful to shame! Miss Terry says it was only coincidence that the RVs on both sides of us pulled out early in the day, but I have my doubts.

I had three hours to get this stuff down, and while she was pouring the first glass and handing it to me, that loving, gentle and supportive woman I married began to suddenly morph into a sadistic Nazi nurse whose only purpose in life was to gloat over my misery. I complained about the taste of the stuff, and she reminded me that I had many more glasses to finish, so I’d better get used to it. I reminded her that we share everything, and that it would not be fair of me to keep this nectar of the gods to myself and consume it all in front of her. Her reply was “Nice try, buster. Now drink up!”

The same woman who has talked me over high bridges, assured me she still finds me attractive when I accidentally stumble in front of a full length mirror, and rubbed my shoulders and feet after a long day of teaching, suddenly was without sympathy as she forced glass after glass of this noxious liquid plumber onto me.

At one point, after my 102nd trip to the bathroom, all I wanted to do was cuddle to her bosom and have her tell me what a brave little soldier I was being. Instead, she suggested that I turn on the bathroom fan and leave it on. “Don’t you care what I’m going through?” I asked tearfully. “Of course, I care, darling,” she replied. “After all, I’m the one who insisted we put oversize holding tanks on the bus so you wouldn’t have to go to the dump station between glasses.”

Folks, I know it’s necessary. I even think Miss Terry really means it when she says it’s all for my own good. But I swear that at least once as I went rushing past her toward the bathroom I saw a smile on her face that told me she was enjoying payback for every time I neglected to wipe my feet before tracking mud inside on her clean floor, or every time I mistakenly glanced in the direction of some sweet little waitress at dinner.

The good news is that I knew that I was going to be very proud of myself when I climbed on my bathroom scales the next morning, because I know where 30% of my body weight went in the last 24 hours. Talk about fat flushing foods!

Well, the good news is that my colonoscopy came out very well, and I won’t have to repeat it for five years. The bad news is that the nasty stuff I had to drink will probably be just as bad in five years! Actually, the doctor who performed the procedure told me that there are couple of alternative preps, one of which simply involves taking a series of tablets and drinking a gallon of plain water. The VA doesn’t provide for that recipe, but I’d gladly pay for it myself just to get out of drinking that horrible GoLytely again!

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Heading North

After unhooking and pulling out of our site, making a quick stop at the dump station, hooking up the van and using our PressurePro system to get a quick scan of all of our tires, we left Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington . We cruised north on Interstate 75, passing through several construction zones, one 20 miles long, and eventually found ourselves crossing the Ohio River into Cincinnati. I’ll have you know I didn’t snivel once going over the bridge. Well, just once, but that was because an eighteen wheeler came by taking all of his lane and part of mine too!

In the past we’ve tried both the I-275 eastern and western bypasses around the city, but the last couple of times we’ve just stayed on I-75 and barreled right through, and found it easier and shorter. This day was no exception. Traffic was moderately heavy, but we stayed in the second lane from the right and let the faster vehicles pass us by, and soon we were out in the open countryside.

There was more road construction in Dayton , but again no problem, and before long we were leaving the interstate to take U.S. Highway 33 west, a nice divided four lane road with little traffic. Before we knew it we were pulling into the Mercer County Fairgrounds in Celina , Ohio where we spent a couple of hours checking out the facilities for our Gypsy Gathering rally in September with the fairgrounds staff.

Folks, this is a nice venue! We’ll have plenty of electric hookups for everybody who shows up, there are water bibs all over the place, a dump station, super clean restrooms with showers, and nice buildings for our seminars and entertainment. We have a few full hookup sites, but we’re reserving them for people with special needs. And no, wanting to wash your hair every day is not a special need! J

The people running the fairgrounds really want us there. They have bent over backwards to accommodate our every need. We’re excited about the rally, and we hope we see a lot of you there.

The fairgrounds were having their annual Rib Fest this weekend, and they invited us to hang around and enjoy the festivities. But when they told us that they expected 5,000 or more people, we decided that was too much of a crowd for us. Since it was still early in the day we continued onward, taking U.S. Highway 127 north to Van Wert. We stopped there for a late lunch/early dinner, and then drove west on U.S. Highway 30 to Fort Wayne , Indiana . In Fort Wayne we hooked up with Interstate 69 northbound to the Indiana Toll Road . From there it was a quick run to Elkhart .

Well, it would have been, except we stopped at a service plaza for fuel. The signs on the highway advertised diesel for $4.32, which was cheaper than we had seen all day, but when we pulled up to the pump the price was $4.65. Ouch! We knew it was too good to be true, but we had forgotten that in this part of the country, the advertised prices do not include taxes.

Terry went inside to put down a deposit, and had to wait while the clerk finished her cigarette and came back inside, all the while talking on her cell phone. (I guess if you puff away inside the store you expose others to your second hand smoke, so the safe thing is to go outside where all of the gas pumps are to light up!) She could only authorize $200 at a time, and the pump was incredibly slow.

At $4.65 a gallon, $200 doesn’t get you much diesel, and when the pump clicked off, Terry had to go back inside, wait while the clerk talked on the phone some more, and finally got her to turn it on again. We must have spent a good 30 to 40 minutes buying $400 worth of fuel, and could have put more in, but we just hated to interrupt the dimwit’s phone call a third time, so we gave up and got back on the highway.

We arrived at Elkhart Campground just after 7 p.m., received warm hugs from owner Gita Patel, then pulled into our regular site here. Before we were hooked up, some of the regulars came by to say hello. We have been coming here for years, and this place has become like a second home to us. We always feel good just rolling in the gate. It had been three weeks since we left Arizona , and we covered a lot of miles and had a lot happen since then. We were tired and looking forward to some down time. It’s good to be back home again!

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