One Week Down

We’ve put more than 1,000 miles on the van thus far; however we have yet to come up with a name for the beast. Heidi had suggested “Bertha,” but then quickly withdrew it, suggesting more time was needed to get the proper moniker for our home on wheels. Nonetheless, she’s been a good machine up to this point…and the van has been great too! ;-)

I am typing this in the Tulsa Central Library, while listening to Imagination Theater, one of my guilty pleasures, and a pastime likely shared only with card-carrying AARP members. Imagination Theater is a series of contemporary radio dramas, and has programs such as Sherlock Holmes, Kinkaid the Strange Seeker and Powder River, an old-style radio Western.

When I last wrote I was quite peeved with the proprietor from Ziebart in Minneapolis, where I had recently paid $240 to have my windshield replaced, only to have it leak upon the first heavy rain we encountered. While staying with my Uncle Jeff and his family, just on the outskirts of Des Moines, I made a couple of phone calls to local auto glass shops to see if anyone could repair my leaky window before we continued down the road. The first gentleman I spoke with noted that he wouldn’t even touch our vehicle, as those windshields were quite difficult to replace and the risk of liability was not worth the reward of a couple hundred bucks. The second place I called was an auto-glass chain and the man on the other end of the phone was most certainly a phone bank representative and not knowledgeable in glass replacement himself. Regardless, I made an appointment the following morning with his outfit.

A heavily-tattooed, yet jolly, balding man came out and took a look at the van before bringing it in for service. He relayed that there were no signs of dust coming through the seal on the newly replaced windshield and, thus, suspected that the leak wasn’t coming from the windshield at all, but rather from a leaky pinch weld between the top of the van and the extended fiberglass roof, which adds a little height to the vehicle. Needless to say, this news did not improve my mood. I figured we were relegated to just coping with a leaky roof for the remainder of the trip…and we still may. But the kind fellow had us pull the van in and ran some urethane along the pinch weld, in an attempt to slow or eliminate the passenger-side leak. Since we haven’t had any significant moisture since then it is impossible to know if the fix worked. But, I am grateful for the kind service given, especially since we were sent on our way with nary a penny less, despite my insistence to the contrary.

After spending the early afternoon with Jeff we hit the road and headed east, for the banks of the mighty Mississippi. We had decided to follow the Great River Road on the way down to St. Louis, where we were to rendezvous with Heidi’s cousin Katie and her beau, Mark. Along the way we stopped in Pella, IA where I took a quick nap in the back of the van and Heidi went for a walk. Despite my best efforts, I didn’t get all the sleep I needed the evening prior, but a power nap was just the ticket to continue the journey until nightfall. I really didn’t take any time to enjoy Pella (except through my windshield) but it looked like a quaint little town and boasts the largest Dutch windmill in all of North America.

Originally, we had hoped to make it to Quincy, Ill. to camp in the van for the evening, but circumstance deemed otherwise, so we chose Nauvoo State Park instead. Upon arriving in Nauvoo I was awestruck by the sheer volume of historic brick buildings, and a rather imposing white edifice in the center of this sleepy little town along the eastern banks of the Mississippi River. I had no idea what this town was all about, but a couple of signs along the road about Joseph Smith suggested that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (more commonly known as Mormons) may have something to do with it.

Since the moon had replaced the sun and the stars had come out to play, it was rather dark outside and so I must’ve missed the sign for Nauvoo State Park, where we planned to camp. As it was getting late, and we were tired, I pulled over at a seasonal riverside rest area (not yet open) just south of town, and we parked the van and started getting ready for bed. For whatever reason I grabbed Heidi’s cell phone and told her to have it in back with us, so she dropped in the cup holder, or what should have been one. Instead the plastic holder was missing and so the phone fell deep into the depths of the van, in between the metal exterior and the wood and upholstery of the conversion package. Heidi likened it to baby Jessica falling in the well so many years ago. This development was certainly frustrating, given my desire to get to sleep, however I wanted to get it remedied as soon as possible, so we pulled out the tools and managed to get it out after a half-hour or so. Shortly thereafter we went to sleep, only to be awakened in the night by bone-chilling temperatures which hovered around freezing. By the time the sun came out Heidi was completely buried in anything she could to retain heat.

After hunting down a public restroom to heed nature’s call, we headed into the heart of historic Nauvoo. We walked around a bit and then joined a couple of other groups into a short lecture on how bricks were made here during the turn of the century. There we were also told about the wonders of the LDS church and asked where we had served on our missions. The historic little town quickly turned from interesting to intimidating as I realized that this former center of the church was now the sight of family pilgrimages and attempts to convert the heathen. We were given a complimentary little brick which had “The Book of Mormon” scribed on it, as well as some Egyptian hieroglyphs which, reportedly, state “Mind your parents.” We then hopped in the van and got the heck outta dodge…

Our next stop brought us to Hannibal, Missouri, the home of Mark Twain…and trust me: It is impossible to overlook that fact. Upon arriving we found the Mark Twin hotel, Mark Twin Dinette (home of Mark Twain Fried Chicken), Mark Twain Theater, etc. Quite frankly, I expected a Mark Twain urinal when I relieved myself at the visitor center. It was a cool little town, and we enjoyed walking through it, but I didn’t think it was worth forking out nearly $20 in order for the two of us to go into one of the many museums detailing Samuel Clemens transformation into the literary legend now known and read around the world. We had a great, and cheap, lunch at the local diner, which catered to the locals and not the tourists in search of that famous Mark Twain rib-eye.

We made it to the St. Louis metropolitan area just in time for rush hour, and arrived at Heidi’s cousin Katie’s new place around dinnertime. She and her boyfriend Mark just moved into a great little brick townhome, blocks from beautiful urban park and in a nicely mixed neighborhood, in terms of both ethnicity and age. After getting acquainted and cleaned up we headed out for pizza at Joanie’s Pizzeria. The food was good, but no match for the company. Mark & Katie were positively delightful. As a testament to the global village we all now occupy, Katie recounted that she recently got an out-of-office email from my work mailbox when sending a press release, without any prior knowledge to my position at FOX! On it I had linked to this blog, and she quickly put 2 & 2 together.

While at the pizzeria I imbibed a bit, indulging in a total of about 4 beers throughout the evening, making sure to also drink water and eat along the way. Well, apparently my body no longer agrees with the intoxicating poison and told me so the following morning while I was praying to the porcelain God and dry-heaving so hard that Heidi had to plug her ears. I tried to play it off to our gracious hosts and hope they are only learning of my malady now.

Our first stop in the morning was to the St. Louis central post office, where Heidi was to retrieve her license and check card, which she had mistakenly left at home upon our departure. Her dad was kind enough to get it overnighted, via general delivery, and Heidi had until noon Saturday to retrieve it, lest we wait until the following Monday. For a moment, she was a bit worried that we wouldn’t be successful, as they were clearly having trouble finding her parcel back in the labyrinth of packages, carts and tubes. However, the women behind the counter were not only friendly but persistent and found the very important envelope, even though it was addressed to a part of the post office where only employees get their mail (or so we were led to believe).

St. Louis is a beautiful city and has one of the largest urban parks in the United States, Forest Park. Grand Boulevard is lined with impressive homes which remind passers-by of days gone by: rail and lumber tycoons and excess to the point of lunacy. Prior to heading out we visited the famous Arch, but were unable to get to the top, as the beautiful weekend weather invited thousands of other visitors to the same destination. So, we just walked about, took in some sun and got back on the open road.

By this point, we had both worn on each others’ patience at various times throughout the trip and were in need of some rest and relaxation. We drove for only a short time before pulling into Robertsville State Park in Missouri. We got in well before the sun went down, and spent the next couple of hours setting up, getting some laundry done and preparing a simple dinner of pasta with red sauce, corn and bread. The weather was delightful and the scenery tranquil. It was a much needed stop for us and we left the following morning feeling refreshed and reinvigorated.

Since we didn’t leave until the early afternoon, we only drove a relatively short distance on Sunday and stopped at a small family-run campsite in Carthage, MO sometime after the sun set and the office closed. Prior to that, we ate a hearty meal at the Mount Vernon Family Restaurant. I wanted to get a little ways away from the interstate, in order to find some grub that was both tasty and cheap, while avoiding the chains that serve ammonia-rinsed beef and preservative-laden cuts of chicken. Well, this choice certainly fit the bill. As we walked in we were greeted by the smell of cigarette smoke wafting out of the smoking section, people in jeans, flannel and well-worn trucker hats, and a no-nonsense waitress in her early 20’s. Needless to say, we stuck out like sore thumbs and certainly made for some hushed conversations amongst the other patrons. Heidi enjoyed half of her gigantic friend catfish dinner (with three fillets) and I ate as much as I could of my turkey supper, which was drowned in about a gallon of yellow gravy. The portion sizes were way too big, as nearly every plate I saw taken away was far from clean. That being said, we still took advantage of the free ice cream that comes with every dinner order.

The campsite left little to write about, except for the encounter I had when I had to run to the bathroom in the night. Standing right outside the entrance to the men’s room was a white goose, honking in what I thought to be a very angry manner. Rather then risk a goose attack I retreated to the van and sought the help of Heidi. She came out to investigate and then escorted me to the ladies’ room so I could do my business in relative comfort. As we settled up the owner explained that her goose actually likes men and can be petted.

We have only been in Tulsa long enough to eat lunch, get a little walk in and then type this lengthy blog in the library. I did take a stroll down to a Route 66 marker, complete with a part of the road now closed off to all traffic, as a reminder of the history of the thoroughfare. I am rather unimpressed with the downtown area, and it seems that homelessness is rampant in this city. But, I guess one can expect that: the weather is relatively nice year-round, and I am at the central library, which provides protection from the elements, reading materials, internet access and a public bathroom for those without a home to call their own (or to be a bit more vulgar, a pot to piss in).

Well, I think that’s about all for now. Soon, we’re gonna head out of the city, grab some groceries and look for somewhere to camp for the night. Tomorrow I hope to visit Oklahoma City and the Alfred P Murrah Federal building, the site of the worst (confirmed) case of domestic terrorism in this nation’s history, where 168 people were killed in a bombing almost 15 years ago to the day.

If you have read this entire entry, THANK YOU. Moreover, I ask that you post this entry link on your Facebook, MySpace or wherever you can. I need exposure and followers, because Heidi & I hope to shop a book to publishers once we complete this adventure…and showing that people are interested in our stuff can only help. By the way, here is a link to Heidi’s blog if you haven’t yet seen it: http://heidi-leapyear.blogspot.com/