Warning: This is a
long posting…long story
This is being written on my new USB keyboard which I
purchased in an attempt to substitute for the built-in keyboard of my laptop
computer.
Yesterday Rocky bumped my cup (sealed) of Pepsi over and it
rapidly leaked out onto my keyboard—for the third time in a week. But this time, the amount which actually made
it into the keyboard was a LOT. Enough,
apparently, to cripple the keyboard completely.
Experts consulted recommended replacing the entire laptop
and I went to Wal-Mart, but couldn’t justify spending our last $300 on a new
computer. Then there would have been no
money for the hotel (all the campgrounds are closed until May 1), nothing to
live on and no immediate income. Instead, I stopped myself from panic and
thought for a moment. What if I get an
auxiliary keyboard? Maybe that would
work. And it does, and now I feel like a
genius.
The last three days have been a wild roller coaster. We left Eldridge Wednesday morning (April 10)
heading for Pennsylvania
so I could go to my father, who is dying following a major stroke.
What a morning! It started with
having to repack the rear storage rack because a plastic tub with merchandise
had water inside and had to be saved. So we repacked and re-bungied and re-tied
in a cold wet rain.
We went to the Casey’s General Store and filled up both
tanks with gas. And the RV wouldn’t
start. Forty-five minutes later, we
called AAA. I explained to the customer
service rep that we didn’t need a jump start, that we needed a roadside
mechanic who could come and tell us why it wouldn’t start. We had battery power and the starter turned
over, but the engine just wouldn’t catch.
An hour and a half after that a young man called us (he was
lost—in Eldridge!) and we directed
him to the Casey’s. He arrived driving a
mini-van, got out and started to hook up his jumper cables.
When I explained to him (not very nicely, I’m afraid, we had
been over two hours in the cold, windy, rainy weather and even though we were
inside the RV, it was getting bitter and miserable) that we didn’t need a jump,
he didn’t know what to do.
I went inside Casey’s and borrowed a phone book, and found a
mechanic nearby (like 4 blocks). The man
from Petersen’s Automotive was kind enough to bring some tools and look under
the hood. He determined that we were
getting no spark. He agreed to work on
the RV immediately if we could get it to his shop.
We called AAA for a tow truck and went inside Casey’s to get
something hot to eat and wait. Finally
AAA called and said they had found a tow truck that could get us to Petersen’s. But apparently the dispatcher this time
assumed that we had some kind of giant RV.
I tried to tell them we were a class C, basically just a Ford van with a
big ol’ camper built on top. I guess
they weren’t listening. So, they said
they found a tow company who could get us, and it was on the way. Half an hour later, they called back to tell
us that our tow truck had been selected at random by Iowa Department of
Transportation for inspection and there was no telling how many hours that would take. But AAA assured us they would keep looking
and keep us posted.
By now we were chilled to the very bone and miserable. I was still grieving, of course, about Dad
and wanting to get underway. I was also
mystified why the Universe would put this kind of unnecessary frustrating delay
in our path. I tried to console myself
with the idea that we were being saved from something even worse.
We called our friend James and had him bring our Ford
Explorer to us. At least it would start
and create heat. A little while later, I
told Rick he had to get me out of here.
I just wanted to go somewhere quiet and warm where we could sit and
wait. So, we found a little local tavern
and settled in.
AAA called again—a young man named Stephen this time—and told
me that he found a tow company in Bellevue, Iowa and they could come and get us
in about two and half hours! I looked up
Bellevue and
found it was way north of us, above Savannah/Sabula—fifty-two miles and an hour
away! By now, Petersen’s wasn’t going to
be able to fix the RV that day (it was now about 2:30 PM and the mechanic left
at 3:00), so Stephen found another repair place in Eldridge—Automotive Central
willing to stay open (Zach was our contact man there) after 5:00 PM to get us
on our way. The irony is that Automotive
Central was exactly four-tenths of a mile away.
In all those hours, I could have pushed
the RV that far.
Around 4:30, we headed back to the RV to wait for the tow
truck. Rick, on a whim, tried to start
it. You guessed it, it turned right
over, no problem.
Rick drove us to Automotive Central while I called AAA to
cancel the tow truck. Six hours and we
had yet to receive any meaningful help from AAA. Zach at Automotive Central was quick to
respond, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with the RV (we call her the Honey
Bee). We were free to go, to get on our
way.
As we pulled onto Interstate 80 East, I received a message,
then a phone call from my sister Shannon.
My brother John had returned home to Las Vegas, Dad was not expected to live the
night, and there was no funeral planned.
My stepmother Helen could not afford a funeral (we’re not a wealthy
family), so we were having Dad cremated and sometime this summer, we were going
to plan a get together that fit everyone’s schedule to scatter his ashes in
Shoop’s Cemetery in Harrisburg, where my grandmother and grandfather, Aunt
Marie and two stillborn children of my Uncle Sam and Aunt Marion are buried—the
family plot.
So, there was no point, you see, to us going right now. And I realized that she was right. Instead Shannon
arranged for me to talk to Dad on the phone, where I said my last words to
him. (I told him I wasn’t going to say
goodbye, because I knew he would always be with me.)
Instead we reverted to my original plans for this weekend—a visit
to Fairfield to work on an article for Acres USA on the Maharishi Vedic City
Organic Farm, and to Ottumwa to see Dani Lin, an Iowa psychic, give a little
presentation on Saturday at the Historic Ottumwa Hotel.
Downriver we went. By
now it was 6:30 or so and it would soon be dark (well, darker). We headed to Muscatine and planned to
stop at one of the several camping places in that area. Except they were all closed. We check four of them. We had no idea what we were going to do.
Now, remember: the
Honey Bee has cracked holding tanks, so there is no toilet facility, and no
running water. She also has no propane
right now (a matter of economics), so there is no heat and no cooking except
for the microwave. The space heaters we
have and the microwave need electricity to run, so we have to plug in. We have no idea yet how to run the
generator. So wherever we went we needed
a bathroom and an electrical outlet.
I thought briefly about the time we spent in a B&B in Muscatine on Valentine’s
Day 2012. Maybe they would let us park there, I thought. I didn’t mention it because we were still
checking out campsites.
A little while later, Rick said, “What about the folks at
the B&B in Muscatine?” That confirmed it—this was our next
step. We stopped at McDonalds to plug in
the laptop, look up the number and Rick called them. We were welcome to come and spend the
night. Such nice people.
(BTW, if you ever want a truly pleasant and peaceful visit
to Muscatine,
try the Strawberry Farm Bed and Breakfast.)
The weather was even more dreadful after nightfall and the
rain was just cascading from the sky.
Finally Rick was able to get us parked next to the barn and plugged in,
and we settled in for a well-deserved night’s rest.
The next morning, we pulled out and headed toward US 61 South. As we pulled up to the stop sign where we
would turn onto 61, the Honey Bee stalled and refused to restart! I felt sunk—I dreaded the idea of another day
in awful weather, cold and damp, waiting for possible bad news.
We called AAA again, an off-duty police officer helped us
back downhill onto the shoulder, and I went in the back to do some work on the
computer. Rocky jumped up on the table
and spilled my Pepsi all over the laptop keyboard—just as the tow truck arrived. I had to leave the laptop for later.
The driver was very nice and helpful—I learned that we have
a one-ton chassis and 16-inch tires and that’s what we should tell AAA the next
time we need help.
Again, when we got it to the shop, it started right up and
ran just fine the whole time we were there.
They couldn’t find anything wrong either and for the second day in a
row, there was no charge for the work.
(Miraculous! One usually gets
charged exorbitant amounts just to have a mechanic look at your engine.)
Off we went again, toward Washington, Iowa,
where we stopped at a WalMart for lightbulbs for the RV. Jim at the Washington WalMart was stellar in
helping us find the right thing and helped us with some other things—he was an
expert, it seemed, in marine and RV stuff.
We were constantly being helped by these amazing strangers.
After shopping, the Honey Bee again refused to start. I had read that many WalMarts allow RVs to
stay in the parking lot, but I knew they wouldn’t let us plug in. I really did not imagine living in an RV to
include sleeping at Walmart!
But after awhile, she restarted and we proceeded to Fairfield. There we had dinner and found a local tavern
again. Local taverns should never be
overlooked as potential places of information and helpful people.
Our bartender was great and we shared stories and he tried
to help us find a place to plug-in for the night. But it was no use, and we finally had to
break down and find a hotel room.
We were directed to the Best Western, where the front desk
clerk went out of her way to help us get the deepest discount she could
find. And they were willing to take our
cats, too.
Today, we wrestled with what to do about the computer and
how to continue to finance this excursion that has quickly become frustrating
and more expensive than we had planned.
The Best Western here in Fairfield is one of the best I have ever
stayed at. The staff are friendly and
helpful, the rooms clean, the bathtub is big enough even for Rick, and the
included breakfast is hot and varied.
They even had real butter. After
a night’s sleep in dual queen beds with fresh crisp sheets, the hot breakfast
was like manna from heaven.
I called around and found that the local farmer’s market
will let me set up a booth tomorrow. I
spoke to Barbara at the organic farm and may get a chance to visit tomorrow
afternoon (doubtful) or first thing Monday morning.
I paid for another night here, bought the keyboard instead
of a new laptop and now I am once again functioning. We still need to find a place to park/plug-in
tomorrow and Sunday nights, but for now we are all warm and dry and well-fed.
