I'm not the kind of guy who always works and plays well with others. I've spent the past 30-or-more years on my own only needing to consult with myself about impending decisions, and only worrying about myself when it comes to setting a time to eat, shower and shit – plus nearly anything else that crops up in my life. If that makes me a curmudgeon, so be it.
So, here I am slogging along in a 38-ft RV with two fraternity brothers (both, by the way, roommates in our college days) on a trip from Knoxville, Tennessee to Eatons' Ranch in Wolf, Wyoming. We are currently in day 0.5 of this 3.5-day mission. How am I holding up? Let me just say, I couldn't pass the psych evaluation to serve on a submarine. My mood has evolved from “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” on morning one three days ago to “Somebody Give Me a #*$@$ Drink” today.
I'm an early riser and have been the first out of bed each morning (about 5:30 or 6, regardless of the time zone) of this boondoggle. If I were alone, I would have been on the road an hour later. This morning, three hours evaporated between my rising and pulling out of the RV site at the KOA in Rapid City, South Dakota. Tick-Tock.
Because of this rig's mammoth size, there is a lot of storage; yet, there really isn't enough. We spend a fair percentage of our day moving things from here to there to there and then back to here, as we proceed through our day. Because there are three of us playing object roulette, there is also a lot of “Hey, where did you put this thing or that?”
I tell you all of this simply to convey my state of mind at this point.
 |
| Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Up close and personal. |
Having established that I'm a bit cranky, we did make it all the way through day three without consulting the often-viewed “walk-around video.” That's a huge leap forward. At the end of the day, there was much cheering and high fiving. Hooking up at last night's KOA park looked like an Indy pit crew. Good thing because it was close to 9 o'clock at night when we rolled into our slip. This was thanks to a much-appreciated side jaunt into the Badlands National Park; during which, we turned up a dirt road to take a closer gander of some bison we saw next to the road. Getting within about six feet of one of these magnificent animals was our reward for making that error in judgment. We had given no thought to how we were going to turn around.
This washboard road eventually would dump us out on another secondary road that went all the way into Rapid city, roughly 40 miles away. OK, but not optimum. Fortunately, we came upon a Viewpoint with an entrance and an exit. We turned around and headed back to our preprogrammed route.
The most exciting activity on Day 2 was dumping the waste tanks. This is not intuitive. There are hoses to connect, reconnect and disconnect. There are valves to throw, a sewage line to hook up and much swearing to be achieved. We were about an hour later getting underway that morning than scheduled. We ate at the same truck stop for breakfast as we had for dinner the previous evening. Yes, it was that good. Among the food we snarfed down were two cinnamon rolls: one regular and one with icing. Oh, Momma, they were good. So good, in fact, I ordered an iced one to take with me for breakfast on Day 3.
Day 2 was a haul from Mt. Vernon, Illinois to Nebraska City, Nebraska. It was, for all intents and purposes, uneventful. We skipped dumping the waste tanks on the morning of Day 3, and got off to a somewhat timely start. Not timely enough, however, to accommodate our side trip into the Badlands.
 |
| What the heck? Actual condiments on the table. What is this 1955? |
Northern Iowa and South Dakota were a breath of fresh air. Traffic all but disappeared and the quality of the paved surfaces improved dramatically. The Butterfield Trail was better maintained than the freeways in Illinois. I'm still searching for one of my fillings. Although the paved surfaces were primo, Hal had to fight a 20-mile-per-hour crosswind most of the afternoon. We arrived in Rapid City around 7:30 pm. We stopped at a Flying J (Hals preferred fuel stop) fuel station and topped off the tank. We then moseyed into the restaurant for dinner. To our amazement, there were actually salt-and-pepper shakers, as well as condiments, on the table. God Bless South Dakota. We ate some better-than-average truck-stop grub and set off in search of the KOA Campground where we had a site reserved.
The drive from the Flying J to KOA was Hal's maiden after-dark-driving experience in the Magnificent Bastard. He did fine. We rolled into the KOA around 9:00, after closing time. There was an envelope with my name on it in a rack on the outside office wall. After a bit of searching in the dark, we found our slip. After all of our success setting things up and taking them down on Sunday night and Monday morning, we stumbled attempting to hook up to the city water at KOA. There were leaks galore that we simply couldn't overcome. Our solution was to let it leak, finish cleaning up for bed, then turning off the water supply for the night.
No one wanted to hang out last night. We were beat. It was lights out before 10 to prepare for Day 3.5.
No comments:
Post a Comment