Saturday, May 26, 2007

So, we are off….. like a herd of turtles. Ever since we accepted contracts to work at Crater Lake, Oregon, three months ago, we have been getting our affairs in order, and preparing to live in our motor home and work in one of the most beautiful areas of America for four months. Tom is now a U. S. Merchant Marine officer, has his captain’s license, and a “Westward Ho young man” from his cardiologist, and will commandeer the tour boat on incredibly beautiful Crater Lake.

Lynn has packed for frontier life, including canned goods, sewing machine, books, and clothes for weather of all kinds. Crater Lake has an average of 540 inches of snowfall. About 50 inches of that is still on the ground. We have heaters, long underwear, and lots of canned soup on board. But in July and August, it really heats up, - to a smoldering high of 85 degrees!

Tom spent the last few weeks getting the motor home ready, working on the tow jeep, getting the kids’ cars and camper in good working order, gathering electronic equipment needed for the journey (gotta have all the computer stuff!), and getting financial business all organized. We left the house in pristine (well, almost) order, took a week to say goodbye to friends and family (it’s really hard to leave our four-year-old grandson), and headed to Brenham for two days with Tom’s dad, before hitting the long trail.

Now I don’t want to say Tom was stressed, but as we left the house with the jeep packed (for the fourth time) with the last load for the motor home, Tom got on the Southwest Freeway, and began to exit onto 610, heading towards 290.
Lynn: “Where are you going?”
Tom: “To BRENHAM! (in a tone implying, “Where do you think?”)
Lynn: “Shouldn’t we go get the motor home first?”
Tom: (Pausing), then in a low voice, “Oh, yeah, we should do that.”
He careened left, over three lanes, and we arrived at the storage space, loaded up, and prepared to depart. Then the skies opened up, rain fell in torrents, and we couldn’t see beyond the windshield. We were not even out of the shed yet.

In Brenham, Tom went to work fixing the refrigerator (which had not yet turned on), filling the motor home with water, and replacing his dad’s garbage disposal. Meanwhile, Lynn sat with Mr. Beard, watching 1970-‘80 reruns of “Lawrence Welk,” which he watches on Saturdays and Sundays, and found out all about the lives of the LW singers and dancers – who is alive and who is dead and who married whom in the last 37 years – he knows it all. (Did you know that Bobby, the Mouseketeer, was a long-time dancer on Lawrence Welk? He was really good).

Well, anyway, we’re finally on the trail…….. like a herd of turtles.

Tripometer: 73 miles (Drove 73 miles to Brenham, Tx)

Monday, May 28, 2007

Tom’s dad cooked breakfast for us, and sent us on our way by 8:30 a.m. Tom leaned on the air horn as we exited the neighborhood, and drove two miles before realizing we hadn’t left the key in the jeep ignition. Since we stopped so soon there was no damage to the tow car. Whew, only 1,927 miles to go!

Even though it’s drizzly, the rural route from Brenham to Waco was lovely. We took Hwy 36 through Somerville, Milano, and Cameron to Hwy 77, to I-35 in Waco. Then north to Ft. Worth, and into Oklahoma, where we stopped for a free overnight at the Riverwind Casino. We are at the back of an enormous parking lot, and have already been joined by another motor home nearby.

The rain has its benefits. No bugs. Tom will not have to get out the extension brush and clean bug cadavers off the 35 square feet of windshield tonight.

I need to talk about George. George is our mechanical navigator. As background, let me say that for over 35 years of traveling, Lynn has successfully called the turns, both pre- AND post-motor home, and we have always returned home in a timely manner. Using the old-fashioned “use the map, and follow the road” method, we have traversed North America, from San Miguel de Allende Mexico, to Prince Edward Island, and from Lake Louise in western Canada, to Alligator Alley, Fl., But Tom requires the latest in technology, and that includes Where We Are at any given nano-second, and where we will be in the following nano-second. So for the last couple of trips, a GPS computer program has become our constant dashboard companion. The computer does not stop at graphics, however; it “speaks” the directions, via “George.” He speaks politely, saying things like, “Two miles ahead…….. TAKE EXIT.” (He sounds like Troy McClure; you may remember him in such films as…….well, never mind).

Most of the time, George calls it accurately. But too often, he gives us really bad directions. The worst was when he tried to send us through the Dummerston VT covered bridge! If the height (11’9) hadn’t gotten us, the load limit (12,000 lbs) would have. (We are 32,000 lbs). Fortunately, we have driven this area before, and knew that bridge, and that the route George recommended would not have worked.

I feel like I am in competition with George. Often I shout at him, “Too LATE!” when he tells us to “Bear RIGHT” several seconds after we have already done so. Crises occur when Lynn feels George has made a wrong call, and the turn/exit is just ahead. Tom doesn’t know whether to do what Lynn says, or to listen to George. More than a few times, Lynn has said, “Go THIS way,” and a few moments later, George responds, “Just ahead…….. TURN AROUND.” (And we can’t always turn around; George doesn’t know we are in a 40-foot motor home, and not on unicycles). Needless to say, I am jealous when Tom follows George’s voice, and ignores mine. And when we don’t follow his command, George gives us the silent treatment. Tom says the program is recalculating the route from where we deviated from it, but I think George is pouting.

Well, this trip George and Lynn have new competition. Tom bought a tomtom, which also displays where we are, and speaks the directions in a soft female voice. We call her Georgia, and she sounds like Kathleen Turner. Sometimes George and Georgia speak at the same time, and already we heard them speak opposite directions. George said, “Just ahead, turn left,” and Georgia said, “Turn RIGHT.” I was wondering if they would start arguing with each other. Meanwhile, I sit with the trusty road atlas and figure out the correct route. I’m sure between the four of us, we will make it to Oregon.

Tripometer: 456 (Drove 383 miles to Norman, OK)