Time Away With Lovely

Posted on 08/09/2024 by Grumpa Joe

This is another one of those days when I don’t have a clue as to what my theme will be. I’ll write until something comes to mind. This past week, I drove to the town of Galena, Illinois. That is the longest drive I have taken in a few years. I have something in mind for later in the month, and I was wondering if I was physically and mentally capable of driving so many hours. I made the driving part without too much fatigue and with a little more physical conditioning I think I can expand the drive to five hundred miles in a single day. One thing. that might hamper me is daylight. If I get caught short on light, I may have to pull off and sleep. My eyes are not the best for dark time driving.

This was my second visit to Galena, the home of Ulysses Grant, the eighteenth President of the United States and the General who finally ended the Civil War. Lovely is new to the USA; she has never been there and likes visiting places she has never been to. We left in the late morning and arrived four hours later, still in bright light. This left us with some time to cruise into town to browse the shops and to have a leisurely supper at the Green Street Tavern located in the Desoto Hotel building on Main Street. My memory of Galena is vague since my last visit was in the 1970’s and we camped. I do remember touring Main Street with Barb and the kIds. I especially liked the fact that the entire street was filled with buildings built in the early eighteen hundreds. I was totally impressed with the massiveness of the front doors that were easily three inches thick. Another thing that left an impression on me as a senior was that the floors in these places were wavy and irregular in levels. They were not easy to walk on if you have balance problems like me. They also had a lot of steps between rooms and floor height changes which made walking an adventure.

The stores are a blend that sell doodads, fancy coffee-pastry, and women’s clothing with a few antique shops mixed in. Tours are available for the historically interested. We ran out of time to visit the Grant home, and just as well, as the tour would have consisted of listening to a docent spew historical facts in the crowded rooms of what was once considered a considerable mansion but today might fall into the middle-class sector. If I want to see some old houses, I will revisit Colonial Williamsburg.

I thought Galena sits on the edge of the Mississippi River, but it doesn’t. It is a few miles east of the Mississippi and has no prominent tourist roads leading to an overview. One of my goals was to show Lovely the great Mississippi River. To do that, I had to drive north from Galena to Dubuque, Iowa. This was a good thing because Dubuque, being on the river, is loaded with businesses of hauling by barge. THe river is not very wide at that point but the bridge over is still impressive and offered a good view of the expanse of the waterway. As we left the bridge the road turned South and headed along the river toward the Quad cities of Davenport, and Bettendorf on the Iowa side, and Rock Island, and Moline on the Illinois side. My map reading skill has obviously diminished because I swear that the only bridge across was at the Quad cities. I was surprised to find out I am wrong.

We enjoyed rural views along the river in a relatively hilly section. When we came down from the high country to the river, we stopped at a quaint little roadside restaurant called Richman’s Cafe for coffee and a cookie in Bellevue. Lovely wanted pictures of the river to remember, so we crossed the road and walked to the water’s edge. There, we blindly photographed using our phones, blocked out by the bright sunlight. I blindly aimed the camera and touched the button to hear the camera take a shot.

Back on Highway 52, heading south, we were thrilled by some magnificent river views. The road eventually came to a tee near a town called Sabula, and I decided to continue eastward. That decision led us toward the city of Savannah, although I only realized it was in Illinois once we crossed the river on the bridge I didn’t know existed. I have read about and heard about Savannah all my life, but did not know where it was or how big it was; now I do. I can knock Savannah off my list of places to see. The drive through was enough for me.

The remainder of the drive took us through north central Illinois and eventually to Interstate 39 South. I have never been on 39, so we took it to I-80, which was the straight shot to Frankfort.

All in all, this was a very nice getaway and I thoroughly enjoyed the time away with Lovely

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Reignited Memories

Posted on 20/07/2023 by Grumpa Joe

The human brain works in mysterious ways. Last week my grandson called to tell us that his motorhome trip to Zion Park was terminated by a tire blowout on I-57 not thirty miles from home. It happened on an outside lane during heavy traffic, and he had to pull onto the left side shoulder. The tire change would have to be done with his ass hanging out into the fast lane. He opted for safety and called for help. Traffic backed up and the Cops called the freeway emergency trucks to tow him off the road into an accident investigation area.

All week my mind has been sending me messages about roadside dilemmas that I experienced with the family campers. In 1980 we owned a 1978 GMC van with a 405 cu in engine that had horsepower to spare. We pulled a 18 foot long Skamper camping trailer which opened up to 26 feet. We named the trailer ‘G4″, the “G” stood for “Gypsy”, and the four meant it was the our fourth camper. There is a separate story attached to each of the G series outfits, and this one will concentrate on the biggest travel trip our family of five took. That year I had accumulated over eighty hours of uncompensated work time and asked my boss if I could add the time to my three week vacation, and miraculously he agreed.

Barb and I planned to explore the National Parks of the west. My part involved getting the van and the trailer ready. Caution urged me to re-lube the trailer hubs which I did, but this meant I had to remove the wheels first. My trailer manual told me to tighten the lug nuts on the wheels, and to retighten them after a thousand miles on the road. Barb’s part was to cook meals that we could freeze and keep frozen for at least three weeks. This took a big load off her having to cook in camp. We left on a Saturday morning and headed north on I-94.

Mount Rainier above meadows of aster, lupine, paintbrush, and more near Paradise, Mount Rainier National Park, Washington, USA.

We planned a route that would take us to Theodore Roosevelt, Grand Teton, Yellowstone, Glacier, Mount Rainier, Olympia, Lassen, Redwoods, Sequoia, Yosemite, and finally the Grand Canyon, an aggressive schedule for sure. In the beginning we dreamed of staying days at each park, but that changed quickly as we realized to make it we would have to drive 500 miles every single day. When we arrived at Mount Rainier I made a decision to camp more and drive less. One of the biggest impressions we came home with were the trees along the West coast. At Mount Rainier my son and I took an after supper hike up a trail that spiraled upward. What impressed me most was the physical size of the trees growing there. From the road, or from a distance the trees look small, but from the ground they look like they extend to heaven, and a girth of five feet at the base was a baby. When we finally arrived in Redwood territory, the trees on Mount Rainier were truly babies. The girth of the General Sherman tree is at least twenty five feet, and he is at least three hundred feet tall. I never saw any greenery on this redwood because it was so high up.

We left Mount Rainier and headed for Olympia NP, but it was one of the parks I opted to pass by in order to have more quality time. We moved down the Oregon coast and stopped at several beach camp grounds along the way. We even made an emergency visit to a dentist for Barb. In southern Oregon we crossed over the mountains toward Crater lake on Lassen NP. The passage was a twisty windy two lane mountain road. They posted a rule that if you were holding up more than two cars you were to pull over and allow them to pass. I spent a good part of the ride pulling over. We finally reached Interstate 5 at 4 p.m. and there was still another hundred miles to Crater Lake. I made another decision to pass this up in favor of moving on toward the Redwoods. We boogied south on the I-five. About a half hour into the ride, I felt the van suddenly jump-up and land hard. I looked into my rear view mirror and saw a rooster tail of sparks flying off the trailer. I slowed and pulled off to a stop. The Trailer was sitting very low on the passenger side. I looked around and could not tell immediately what had happened. Then I saw it, one of the wheels on the low side was gone. It dawned on me, I never re-tightened the lug nuts. The twisty curvy mountain road had worked the nuts loose on this one wheel and it finally came off the hub. The bump I felt was the free spinning tire hitting the trailer frame to get loose. I never found the wheel. There we were in the boondocks of Northern California with one trailer wheel and four lug nuts short. Thankfully, I had a spare wheel, and I stole one lug nut from each of the remaining wheels to get back on the road. Within minutes of rolling again I sensed a new problem, I smelled rubber burning. This time I crawled under the trailer to see what was happening. When the wheel lifted the trailer to escape it came down hard and the impact of the hub against the concrete road bent the axle. The tire was rubbing on the frame and melting. We limped into a small town, probably Redding, and found a camp ground. It was Friday evening by that time, and finding help to fix the axle was nonexistent until Monday. Luckily, I was able to find a shop that could do the job, but it would take two days. We left the trailer with the fixer and checked into a motel. We spent the time sight seeing the area.

Since this event came to mind, I have recalled three more break down stories on our vacation trips pulling a camper. It has been fifty to fifty-five years that this event was tucked into the folds of my brain, and it took Jerry’s unfortunate breakdown to trigger the memory.

We drove over eight thousand miles during our five week National Park Tour and arrived home physically tired but very refreshed with memories that have lasted a lifetime. I want to do it again, but this time without the trailer, and not constrained by a five week time limit.

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730 Days and Counting

Posted on 10/04/2023 by Grumpa Joe

Two years ago today, I tied the knot for the third time. After burying two wives, I decided to give it another try. Some one has to out last me. I can’t say that these days have been all bliss, but I can’t complain too much either. Lovely keeps me fed, and gives me company, and God knows she needs a driver. Lucky for her that I can still drive and enjoy doing so. In two months I’ll have to return to the Secretary of State’s office to get retested for my vision and driving ability. My Dad was two years younger than I am now when he gave up the keys. In his case, his knees and hips were so shot he was dangerous to be behind the wheel. We humored him for as long as we could, never telling him he shouldn’t drive. When it was time, he knew what to do. My brother is seven years older than me and the same age as my Dad was when he died, but at 92 he still leaves town to go to his cottage in Michigan a hundred miles away.

Yesterday, I drove Lovely to Pilcher Park to visit the Bird Haven Green House. They have a lovely display of white lilies every spring. We were very disappointed when we found the place locked up. They actually celebrate Easter. Instead we saved the trip by walking a trail into the woods. We were not disappointed as the forest floor was covered in tiny white blossoms. The trees are just beginning to show a hint of green at the tips. I was reminded of all the times I was disappointed in Illinois weather when I finally returned from spending a warm winter in Arizona. The last time was the worst. Peggy and I left on May 5 to return. I wanted to see the saguaro cactus bloom before we left. The temperature finally topped 100 and the cactus showed it’s flowers as we were leaving town. Since these towering cacti grow to be 66 feet tall, all we saw were tiny white dots at their tops. Later, I learned that some desert cacti require intense heat in order to bloom, and the saguaro is one of them.

On the way home I chose to go straight north into Utah to find Interstate 70 where we would head east to see the the Rocky Mountains one more time. It was a great drive until we reached Vail, Colorado. The road was closed with snow and we had to seek a place to stay until they were cleared. We enjoyed touring Vail at a time of year when it is literally a ghost town. We left while the roads were still being plowed but the snow on the road was mostly deep slush. We arrived in Frankfort fully intending to see lush green leaves filling the trees and the spring shrubs in full bloom, but they were still sleeping and it wasn’t until nearly June when I saw what I expected to see in May.

From Bird Haven we drove the back roads west to Morris, IL for lunch-supper at R-Place restaurant at the TA Truck stop. It was open and fully staffed. I like this place because it is decorated with antique toys, and they have a salad bar, and a four pound hamburger, which I take full advantage of. On the return trip we ventured east on route six toward Joliet, and finally Frankfort. Although it is still very cool for us the temperature was enjoyable, and we loved the bright sun filling the car with heat.

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It’s Time

Posted on 28/02/2021 by Grumpa Joe

This is one of those days when I don’t have a clue about what to write. The words will come as I compose. My life was very different this week, and I wound up driving a lot of miles. The driving only woke me up to the fact that my body has changed since 2015 which is the last time I undertook a major drive of 1850 miles in one stretch. I’m not so sure I would be able to do that as well as I did back then. The last six years have been somewhat stressful on my system. Today, as I took my walk, I decided that I must undertake a vigorous training program to get into shape to take another driving trip. A few months ago, I posted my thoughts about taking one last trip around the United States by car before I hang up my driving gloves for good. Before my post was completed I decided that maybe that kind of effort has gone and left me behind. Driving around the perimeter of the USA and up and down a few times in between to cover all the points I would like to revisit added up to a bunch of miles that would take weeks, no months, to accomplish. It would be the ultimate “Burning Gas” post.

This week I kiddingly told my daughter that this kind of trip would be best taken in a sleeper van, camping along the way covering the warmer southern states in the winter months and then heading to the northern border for the summer and fall. Surprisingly, she agreed with me. Over the years, I have done this trip, mostly camping along the way, except I did it in two week stretches covering a period of twenty-five years. Ask my kids about it. A couple of them have never traveled since, and another took up discovering the world with her girlfriend. None of her trips were by car. She wised up and learned from the boring miles she spent in the back of the van as her father had to make the miles to a new destination. She learned that what took me days to cover by driving she could do in a few hours by airplane. The difference between us is that on my trips, I saw and savored every mile of the country in between destinations. She slept as she flew over the boring oceans between her destinations. I tell people that one has to experience the space of this country by driving across the Midwest. The vast flat plain between our home in Illinois and the Rocky mountains was always a bore that even I would have done differently if I could. I remember very vividly dreaming about how nice it would have been to drive our van and trailer onto a railroad flat-car and to navigate the plains by train. There actually were some services that provided such accommodations between the east coast cities and Florida, but I don’t think they exist anymore.

I stopped driving trips when I neared retirement. It was time for Barbara and me to take the easy way, we flew to dream destinations at home, in Europe, and the far east. That didn’t last very long because she became sick and died within months after I retired. To honor her memory, I took a solitary driving trip to our dreamed about winter residence. The driving alone part I vowed never to do again. During that trip I thought about all the long distance truckers who spend their lives driving their loads from a to z daily logging five to six hundred miles over and over again, living and sleeping in truck stops or the back of their tractors. I decided I could never have made a living as a truck driver.

After a couple of years of living alone I found a new partner who wouldn’t fly. So I took up driving again, and loved it. She turned out to be a very good travel buddy, never complaining about the hours, or the monotony of covering miles. We toured the western United States and Canada east to west over our ten years of good life together. We spent the last five years keeping each other company as she ever so slowly descended into the inner depths of her mind.

I have my first wife Barbara’s advice to me from her death bed embedded in my brain, “it’s time to get on with your life.”

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Hangover

Posted on 15/08/2020 by Grumpa Joe

Someday’s one wakes up and just drags the rest of the waking hours yawning, and desiring sleep even after eight hours of uninterrupted slumber. It is now four hours since hauling myself out of bed to take on a new day. Finally, it occurred to me that drinking a bottle of wine followed by a vodka chaser may not have been such a good idea last eve. When will I learn that mixing booze is not smart? Or maybe that too much booze is not healthy either.

Sunday, October 15, 1961

Writing should be easy today, but it isn’t. My fingers feel heavy and reluctant to find the keys. My mind seems to be in low gear struggling to climb the hill without any power. I need to downshift and get some torque going or I’ll never get to the peak. A memory pops into mind of my first long car trip in nineteen sixty-two when I drove a Volkswagen Bug across country. It was dark and I was tired, and I was passing through the high Sierras somewhere in northern California. This was before Interstate travel and limited grades. I screamed down hills at full speed headed toward pegging the speedometer at seventy-five. All thirty-nine horses were galloping full speed. Then, the tiny bug reached the vale and began the ascent of the next endless hill that extended into the black sky beyond the reach of the headlights. Passing anybody in the way until the speed dropped to sixty, then fifty, then down shifting into third gear to keep the engine pulling at max effort, then down to second and eventually into first gear and that is where the little bug that could stayed roaring away at full throttle and straining at fifteen mph eventually dropping to five miles per hour toward the apex. It seemed like eternity before reaching the crown, and the process reversed shifting through the gears to pick up speed and then bottoming at max speed before losing velocity up the next hill.

That was a long night driving that road, but I made it through in good shape because I knew how to shift gears and change with the need. Eventually, the little bug that could made it across America and back to Illinois. I learned why I wanted a car with more horsepower on that trip, thirty-nine horses is not enough to pull a lightweight car like the bug up those endless long hills. My gas mileage was great, but I paid for it with time and effort shifting gears. I didn’t learn my lesson too quickly however because I traded my bug for a high powered forty horsepower VW Karmann Ghia.

Hangovers are the body’s way of sending the owner a message about the dangers of pushing life limits too far. Although I am enjoying the solitude of this day my body is screaming at me with a warning to sl-o-o-ow down. My heart pump is working overtime trying to transport oxygen to all the sister components needed to sustain life. No doubt the fluid of life flowing within is also altered with too much alcohol and thus is not as effective as it could be. Brain power is severely limited and response to suggestion is sluggish. Like the little bug that could I feel like I am roaring at max effort to climb an imaginary hill that is seemingly endless. Hopefully, as the day wears on the crest will appear and the effort required to climb will ease a bit.

In the meantime, I don’t think I am going to drink like that again.

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