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‘Two roads converged in a desert,

 and we – we took the one less traveled by,

 and that has made all the difference’

          Actually, we decided that the last thing that we wanted to do was travel any more than we needed to on the accursed Interstate Route 10.

          Miss Garmin, our mostly accurate and adept Travelling Soothsayer, recommended that the route to Flagstaff be voyaged by retracing our steps and head East on the 10 and hang a left at Phoenix and proceed northward on the 17.

          We did not want to do that.

          We wanted to go a different way.

          Travelling while retired is taking a toll on my 66-year-old psyche that always strove to take whatever path, at whatever cost, in order to arrive at whatever destination, early.

          Not on time.

          On time is for Losers.

          Early.

          Early is for winners.

          In retirement, my battles have changed. They no longer are centered around my, or someone else’s deadlines. It is actually quite refreshing!

          The only Deadline that I am concerned with now has the root word of the previous italics-enhanced word in it.

          So, throwing Miss Garmin’s recommendations to the wind, and cringing at the thought of incurring her wrath,

( “Re-routing again! Look you idiot! How many times am I going to have to do this?”)

We hung that left about a hundred miles early.

          In the thriving metropolis of Desert Center.

          Desert Center does have a Post Office (serving the several inhabitants of it’s thirty square mile designated borders. It also has two towing companies (which are kept busy servicing the desolate roads in the area, salvaging inept folks that try their hand at Four-Wheeling in their little rented two-wheel drive vehicles with about 4 inches of ground clearance) and a California Road Department Depot.

          That’s it.

          Our left turn started our ‘Journey into the Abyss’ by directing us onto RT 177 North. We needed to be on this road for 117 miles, destination Interstate 40 in Needles, California. You may be familiar with Needles. It is the town where Snoopy’s mustached, hat-wearing brother, Spike lives.

          We did not see Spike.

          Back to the Road Less Travelled.

          I am going to post some of the photos that I took looking forward from the Flight Deck of the ‘Desert Tortoise’, as we did not exceed 50 mph the entire way.

          Nor did we want to.

          The scenery, albeit somewhat repetitive, was fascinating and we never got tired of it.

          Our only complaint was trying to navigate through all of the traffic on this congested by-way.

          The photos will illustrate this point succinctly.

Now for your viewing pleasure, I’ve thrown in two more at the end to see if you had the patience to wade through boring, repetitive Desert Landscape illustrations !

So we took the Road Less Traveled, and guess what?

We were early!

Early because we didn’t have any particular time in mind.

Early because we didn’t have a schedule

Early because we’re retired and just wanted to go to Cracker Barrel and then retire for the evening!

Up until now, the only thing that I knew about Dates, is that if they went bad, they could kill you.

          I learned this from the scene in Indiana Jones / Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indiana’s old friend Sallah, who noticed the dead monkey on the floor next to the Date that he had attempted to eat,  quickly snatched away the Date that Dr. Jones was about to catch in his mouth, saying only, “Bad dates.”

          So, I’m sure that no one could blame me for being a tad leery about visiting  Shields Date Garden in Indio, California. Complete with a Café, this establishment has been around since 1924 and when we arrived for lunch and to stroll their Garden, I did not detect any dead patrons sprawled around on the ground after eating a bad Date.

          Phewf!

          Either they were very careful about making sure that the Dates they served were wholesome, or the movie exaggerated the effects of poisoned Dates on Capuchin Monkeys.

          Not sure and don’t care.

          I was happily surprised to find a wonderful experience awaiting us. First, you will need to endure my requisite ‘History Lesson’ before I  regale you with the details of our visit.

          The year was 1924 when Floyd and Bess Shields started their little shop and started to cultivate not only their Date Palms, but a thriving business as well. Floyd would set up lectures during the day and his customers would learn from him all about the benefits of, and various uses of his home-grown Dates.

           Floyd was a pioneer, at least in Southern California, (because how can someone be a pioneer in 1924 when Dates have been cultivated for about 5000 years in the Middle East) developing several hybrids of Dates, blending the characteristics of different ones in order to develop uniquely tasting new ones that quickly became favorites of his clientele.

          What stands as a testimony to both his horticultural expertise and business acumen is Shields Date Garden, a wonderfully nostalgic enterprise that is situated on about 20 acres of extremely valuable real-estate, right in the middle of the very popular Coachella Valley. The Gift Shop has all of the varieties of Dates that are grown there, along with other products that Floyd developed such as, Date Crystals (A blend of dried dates that can be used as toppings or in recipes) and  Date Sugar, (a sweet product that can be substituted for regular sugar in some recipes, with all of the health benefits of its fruity source).

          What you don’t necessarily expect at a stop like this is a restaurant of the highest caliber. The Café is as popular as the store is and after eating there, the reasons were evident. For a restaurant to succeed, no less excel, it needs to be above expectation’s in any two of three aspects: quality of the food, service level, and ambiance. An establishment can survive with any two of these being great and the third being average. The Café at Shields Date Garden excels at all three! The menu was more varied than I would have expected and judging by the popularity of the Café, it all seems to work nicely. Paula  had a very fresh grilled chicken salad and I figured that I needed to try something with Non-Poisonous Dates in it, so I chose Pancakes (Homemade with Date ‘flour’) and a Date ‘Butter’ that has tons of applications.

          When lunch was finished, we strolled through their Date Orchard and Gardens.

What immediately came to the forefront was how devout the Shield’s must have been because there, sprinkled around the Walk, were various statues of Christ interacting with other figures of the New Testament. It was very well done and I’m quite sure that these concrete statuaries were made specifically for the Shields. I could detect no evidence of any mass-production.

          We got the feeling that this place has to be very popular during the Easter Season.

          With any amount of luck, Shields Date Garden will be around for another 97 years!

Disclaimer: For those of you who usually view this on your phone, I would like to suggest that you wait until you can log onto your laptop because I plan on posting some of these photos at their full size and I’m not sure how that will translate on a small screen.

But we’ll find out!

          So, we did! in fact, we took three of them. Two in Joshua Tree National Park and one in Tahquitz Canyon, which is on the tribal property of the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians.

          Joshua Tree National Park is one of those wonderfully otherworldly places on the planet that the western part of the U.S.A. specializes in. Everywhere you look is prettier than the scene that you previously were awestruck at.

          It takes a special kind of place to accomplish this feat and while Joshua Tree does not have a monopoly in this arena, it has plenty to stand on its own with.

          Joshua Tree is a mecca for the outdoor enthusiast, with Rock Climbing being the pinnacle of the featured activities there. Climbers from around the world come to J.T.N.P.  to hone their skills while enjoying the local weather that comes from being situated in what is commonly referred to as a ‘High Desert’. High Desert’s are typically range between 4000 and 5000 feet in elevation. The region that J.T.N.P. is mostly located in is known as the Mojave Desert. But hold those horses Amigo!

          Joshua Tree is actually in two deserts!

          The Mojave in the higher western part of the Park, and the Colorado Desert in the Eastern half of the Park.

          Confused?

          You bet!

           Because where these deserts all mingle together not only includes these two, but also the Sonoran to the South East and Great Basin to the North. Mix in some smaller regions with their colloquial names and you’ve got a recipe for Desert Confusion.

          Suffice it to say that it’s a desert.

          Little rain, lots of sun, hot days, and cool nights.

          Perfect for just about any outdoor activities.

          We came upon several Climbers while we hiked, and we stopped and watched for a while. The craziest ones we saw were scaling a vertical pinnacle that looked like a miniature El Capitan in Yosemite.

          Now before you go getting your climbing ropes in a wad, I’m not suggesting that this rock was anywhere near as grandiose as El Cap, just that the vertical face reminded me of that.

          And I admire anyone who could scale it!

          I took some photos of these bug-like climbers while we were on our afternoon hike to the old Ryan Ranch outpost. When we were finished with our hike we road around in the local campsites and happened upon two young folks that had climbing gear slung over their shoulders. I stopped that car and asked if they had just come off of that large pinnacle rock over there.

          When they nodded in the affirmative, I introduced myself.

          “Hi, I’m Don and I’m your new best friend.”

          Looking a bit quizzical for a moment I explained that I took some great shots of them climbing and if they gave me an email, I’d get them over to them.

          To say that they were excited would be an understatement!

          Here are the photos that I sent to them.

          Joshua Tree’s received their names from the early Mormon settlers who said that the tree, with it’s upward-reaching arms and “fingers” reminded them of Joshua in the Old Testament and his habit of praying with outstretched arms towards Heaven. These trees are actually a relative of the Yucca plant, a more widely spread succulent that thrives in these desert regions. The Joshua Tree is a bit more particular in its choices for growing environments. It requires higher elevations and specific sandy-type soils to grow. Note in the pictures how widespread they are they are. This is their way of making sure that each tree has enough moisture to survive. If they were any closer together, the ground would not have enough retained water in it for all of them to exist. It’s kind of like a natural ‘Dry Farming’ that the Native Americans used long ago when they planted single stalks of corn about six feet apart so that there would be minimal competition for the little moisture that was retained in the soil.

          Now you know how to survive in the desert.

          If you are a plant!

          Our first hike that morning was a loop trail that went through Hidden Valley, a ‘bowl’ if you will, that back in the day, was used by cattle rustlers because it was…’hidden’ and its formation is such that it is a natural corral.

          Only one way in and out (If you are a cow!)

Here are some representative photos for your viewing pleasure 😊

          After lunch we went on the aforementioned Ryan Ranch hike.

This place is from the early 1900’s and was built using adobe, which as you can see, is still there. These guys also had a gold mine down the road and the water from the well at the ranch supplied the needed water for the processing of the gold.

          They had a nice view from their homestead.

        

 Tahquitz Canyon

The next day, Saturday, we got up early and went down to the outskirts of Palm Springs where the Agua Caliente’s have a hike to a nifty waterfall that is on their ancestral lands. This Tribe has ties to this area that go back almost 5000 years. They own about 6700 acres within the city limits of Palm Springs which makes them the single largest land holder there.

          The hike was about 2 miles round trip and had almost 300 feet of elevation change. The trail followed the brook that formed the canyon and ended at the Waterfall. The water is from snowmelt this time of year so you can imagine how cold it was.

          There was one young guy that had to jump in the pond and make his way out to the rock in the middle for his photo to be taken. Apparently he and his family came here back in the day, years before you needed to pay a fee to access it.

           I’m sure his family will appreciate his efforts!

“When we last left our intrepid Explorers, they were huddled in the relative safety of their home berth in Brenham, Texas. The snow, ice, and trashed alternator were far behind them as the Texas Weather returned to its usual balminess. The question on everyone’s mind was would the Travelers return to their original plans of hightailing it out of there and head for Palm Springs, California once again?”

          Luckily, for the sake of those of you who read this blog, the answer is YES!

          Otherwise, how could I get enough good material for writing this stuff!

          Yes Readers, our two favorite Nomads were stupid enough, oops, I mean valiant enough, to once more attempt an ill-fated sojourn into the abyss of the Western United States.

          This time, the Weather gods smiled down upon them.

          It was the Mechanical gods who, once more, showed no mercy.

          We left our Home Berth and headed for the dump station so that we could dispense the contents of our holding tanks and start the trip with everything at the peak of readiness,

          Full fuel, DEF, water, and batteries.

          Empty holding tanks.

          Why take chances?

          Even though we were only scheduled for about two or so days on the road (more than enough time for the present state of our holding tanks, and we would be able to dump at the KOA Campground when we arrived) our last attempt branded in our mind the fact that anything can (and will) happen, so better to be prepared!

          Thus, Empty Tanks was the motto of the day!

          When we exited the motorhome at the dump station, I could hear an ominous new sound coming from the rear. We walked around back, and we could hear a ‘hissing’ sound emitting from underneath.

          This cannot be good.

          It wasn’t.

          Paula said that it sounded like air coming out of one of the four rear tires. I assured her that was not the issue as our Tire Pressure Monitoring System showed the correct pressure in all of our tires. The tanks that hold the air pressure for the brakes were up front so that could not be the problem.

          That left only one possibility.

          The large rubber bellows, or balloons if you like, that the rear suspension is made up of. These guys inflate when the motor is started and act as ‘shock absorbers’ would in any other suspension.

          They are vital for holding the coach in a level attitude.

          I surmised that this was the issue, but these puppies were well beyond anything that I could fix.

          We weren’t even three miles from home, and something went kerflooey!  

          Now what do we do? This was no way to start a several thousand-mile trip!

          Luckily for us, there is a Truck Repair Facility a few miles down the road on RT 290, just outside of Brenham. And it was actually on our Escape Route to the West.

          We decide to drive there and have it checked. The guy at the counter took one look out of his window and confirmed my suspicion without even going outside.

          “You’ve got either a bad air bag or a fitting blew, we won’t know until we take a look at it. We’ll need an hour or so.”

          Not too bad, I thought, at least they can look at it now instead of in the future, which with our luck would have been sometime in 2022. They pulled our baby into the cavernous garage, which probably could have held eight motorhomes (or trucks). I was salivating, wishing for a garage even big enough for one motorhome!

          Soon the mechanic came in with the offending part and some relatively good news! It seems that the bellows part had come off of its ‘rim’ or base as it were. Similar to how a tire separates from the rim of the wheel. So as long as the rubber part had no holes, they felt that they could just re-mount it, and all would be well. The guy said that it happens from time to time, not sure why…. I guess that I won’t be doing those Dukes of Hazzard aerial jumps anymore with the motorhome!

          All repaired and only a few hours off of our time schedule we started our delayed trip into the West. The weather for traveling was thankfully awesome for a change and four hours later we came up on the site of our Major Breakdown two weeks ago. We stopped and with heads bowed laid a wreath on the side of the highway in memory of our Faithful Alternator, and then hastily beat it back on the road so we could make up some time.

          We actually made it to our first night’s layover at Walmart of Fort Stockton. This was our goal from the beginning but when we had our several hours delay, we thought that we would never make it there. But with Paula driving half the time, we were able to cover more miles and since we were in familiar territory, we felt comfortable driving after dark.

          The next day was Wednesday and another fine travelling day we made it to our stop in Arizona at Walmart of Marana. Everything was fine until (here it comes) I attempted to engage the large slide-out.

          I pressed the button that activated the two motors that drive the gears, and something just wasn’t right, so I stopped. It’s bad enough when you get stuck with a malfunctioning slide -out in, but it’s a disaster when it gets stuck out! So, I reversed the procedure and prayed that it would retract correctly.

          It did.

          Mostly.

          It only sticks out a little bit on the back end, so it does not affect our driving at all. It only affects the livability inside and since we had the side in for the entire time that we were stuck on the side of the road a few weeks before, we just put up with it until we can get it repaired.

          All was good then, we made dinner, started a movie and were halfway through it when there was a loud knock on the door. There, outside the motorhome, was a gentleman from Asset Protection (security) of this particular Walmart. It seems that they have had some issues with overnight RV parking and did not allow this accepted practice anymore and could we find somewhere else to park for the night?

          Yikes! When you are a stranger and have no idea of the surrounding area, this scenario become an issue. The guy was nice enough, offering some possible suggestions, (but no guarantees) so we decided to hoof it on down the road to the next available Walmart.

          It was 50 miles away in Casa Grande, Arizona.

          Not what we wanted to be doing at 8pm in the evening.

          Off we went to Casa Grande. The wind had kicked up that afternoon and we were glad to have settled in our Walmart, so getting back on the road in the dark with the wind still howling was not an optimum situation.

          Oh well.

          At least it put us closer to our destination for the next day.

          We arrived in sunny Palm Springs right on time and backed ourselves into our spot at the KOA of Desert Hot Springs and Joshua Tree. Like most KOA’s, it is well run and clean as a whistle.

          Now the exploring starts. We went to the local Visitor’s Center and picked up the requisite brochures and paraphernalia in order to make some decisions for the next few days.

          The front -running candidates, in no particular order, are Joshua Tree National Park, some time at the Hot Springs Spa, a Hot-Air Balloon flight, hikes in the local Native American Tribal Park, and some other items yet to be decided.

          The reports will be forthcoming as the activities are concluded.

          (How’s that for an Official Statement!)

If found guilty we may be sentenced and/or fined for transporting an illegal live plant into the State of California and I’m not talking about cannabis.

          I’m talking about Bonnie, our faithful green Italian Parsley Plant, who through no fault of her own, unwittingly became an accomplice in this high-stakes cover-up of a (so far) successful attempt of keeping her from being confiscated at the “Checkpoint Charlie” of the California Border Patrol.

          We are in the beginning of completing our disastrously interrupted voyage to Palm Springs and Joshua Tree National Park that we had attempted 2 weeks ago. (More on that later.) Paula was driving when we crossed the Colorado River from Arizona to California on Interstate 10, when several signs appeared letting us know about the impending Border Crossing.

          Having been through this before I knew that this was no ordinary Border Crossing, where they ask you about liquor, cigarettes, Fugitives from Justice, and other forms of contraband.

          No….. these Agents were looking for Plants!

          California has such an agriculturally based economy that any possibility of bringing little nasty creatures and bug-a-boos into the State is met with ferocity. I guess we really can’t blame them, remember the Mediterranean Fruit Fly disaster years ago?

          So now realizing that Bonnie was dangerously close to spending the rest of her life withering  away in the hot California Desert Confiscation Facility, we quickly realized that a ‘Plan of Subterfuge’ was needed. Bonnie’s usual riding place is front and center, right smack dab in the middle of our giant windshield, for all the world to see.

          I can hear it now, “What plant Officer? I don’t see no stinkin’ plant!” with Bonnie unsuspectingly just minding her own business right there in front of us. So, we sprang into action and quickly whisked her away and hid her in the Secret Hiding Compartment where I keep the Chocolate. It’s kind of like the ones that Han Solo used on the Millennium Falcon when he got boarded by the Empire.

          I stashed her under our dining booth, way in the back, where you would need to completely bend over and peer in with a flashlight to see her.

          As we slowly inched our way forward in line, I said to Paula, “These guys are serious, we’re not going to lie if they ask specifics.”

           I’m not going to Prison just for Bonnie, but apparently Paula was willing to!

          We approached the Checkpoint at about 3 mph and Paula smiled coyly at the Guard as she slid the side window open. The Guard swung the Barbed Wire Gate open, all the while keeping a wary eye on us and nervously fingering his semi-automatic RPG slung over his shoulder. There were several Abrams M-1 tanks sitting on the side ready to dispatch any “Breakers” with ease. I could see the High-Walled Confiscation and Retention area in the distance with all the other innocent Traveling Plants peering through the chain link fence at the outside world.

          He approached the side of our vehicle and asked in his drastically low Official Sounding Voice, “Do you have any agricultural plants or produce on board.?”

          It is a good thing that Paula spoke louder than I did because I was ready to literally throw Bonnie “under the bus” as I said meekly from the co-pilot seat, “Just a Parsley Plant.”

          But the ever-vigilant sentry didn’t hear me because Paula spoke louder and confidently lied through her teeth proclaiming, “Just the stuff in my refrigerator.” She then  batted her eyes at the young impressionable  Guard. Blushing in an aw-shucks kind of way, he smiled back at Paula and replied, “That’s just fine Ma’am, have a nice day!” He nodded an ‘Ok’ to the rest of his Platoon and they parted like the Red Sea as we were waved through into the Promised Land with Bonnie safe and sound in her Stowaway Compartment.

          The only downside of this, (besides the fact that Bonnie now knows that I’d give her up in a heartbeat) is that she is now forced to wear disguising sunglasses for the rest of her life.

We leave for “Home” a little later this morning. The weather has finally settled down and should soon be returning to “Texas Normal”.

          No more ice, snow, or frigidly low temperatures.

          At least for the present.

          We’ve been on this truncated  journey now for six days. If that stupid alternator hadn’t crapped out on us, we would have been able to put precious miles behind us last Saturday and escape westward.

          But no, that didn’t happen.

          Good thing we’re retired!

          That particular concept hadn’t really sunk in until this past week. The ability to do absolutely nothing (except survive) for that length of time has escaped me my entire life.

          Not even on vacation did I ever do nothing.

          No lying around on the beach.

          No naps.

          No not doing nothin!

          I was always doing something.

          Not this past week. For six days I did nothing. Nothing of consequence mind you. Nothing that made any difference to anything or anybody. Nothing that positively progressed the position of mankind one iota.

          Nothing.

          Except watch movies, play cards, and walk around Walmart looking for Monster Energy Drinks which I am happily addicted to.

           It was a futile search.

          The shelves of the Walmart’s, local grocery stores, and gas station convenience stores were devoid of my preferred elixir.

          The supply trucks were not getting through. The roads were in such a state as to make rational dispatchers of all trucking companies think twice before sending their vehicles into the fray.

          The shelves of the stores looked like a repeat of the Covid shortages. Couple a Storm Mentality with the assurance of no re-supply and you’ve got the makings of a severe supply-chain issue.

          Items were flying off of the shelves. Not just the regular stuff, even the obscure things began to recede from view. When your favorite staple is not available, you pick the next best thing.

          “Hey Honey, they’re out of eggs!”

          “Go get those disgusting powdered ones!”

          And just like that, the items that you’d never buy in a million years become treasured procurements because no one knows how long the situation will last.

          As they say, ‘Any port in a storm.’

          I searched the now familiar locations every time we went into our beloved Walmart Haven, hoping against hope that some Intrepid Monster Energy Drink Driver had been able to persevere long enough to battle his way into the blitzkrieged war zone, and deliver the needed supplies to the appreciative troops.

          That did not happen.

          But I will tell what did happen.

          On the eve of our last full day in Winter Wonderland, we made a farewell sojourn into our Walmart just to see if anything had changed.

          It hadn’t.

          Nope.

           Not one little bit.

           As a matter of fact, the situation had gotten even worse.

          As I came around the corner of the aisle and looked to see if the Delivery Gods had smiled down upon this store, I was not surprised to see nothing.

          Oh well, it was worth a try anyway.

          Just for fun, I peered into the recesses of the adjoining shelf.

          Wait!

          What did I see?

          I thought that I caught a glimpse of something green. The flavor that I crave is the green one, not the blue or yellow or gray.

          Green!!!

          Which apparently is most other people’s favorite also because that’s the one that everyone is out of.

          My pulse quickened! Not wanting to get my hopes too high, I bent down for a better look. Is it really green, or just another blue one?

          Maybe….

          I reached in and carefully extracted my hoped for prize from the shelf.

          Yes! It’s a green one!

          Hmmm…. Maybe?

          Again, I reached back into the vault

          Out came a second one!

          Then a third, fourth and fifth!

          I praised the lazy stock boy who upon running out of space for the green ones, put the extra‘s in behind the blue ones so that he didn’t have to take a partial case and return it to the back room. I know this trick because I was one of those grocery clerks back in the day!

          I quickly scoffed up my prizes and headed for the check-out, hoping that no one else would see me and hijack my booty. Paula helped carry them because five in one arm was taking too much of a chance of dropping this precious cargo.

          They are now safely ensconced in our refrigerator awaiting their sacrifice for my enjoyment.

The Walmart of Fredericksburg (Texas) Parking Lot has never looked so good! We stayed here once before, when it was so hot that we need to run the air conditioner full time.

          Now it is the cold.

          We were finally able to be rescued on Tuesday. The roads were passable enough for the Service Crew to be able to venture out, drive for 3 hours, and replace our alternator.

          Luckily, that was in fact, the problem. Until then, it was only a telephone diagnosis. Servicing anything motor related on one of these diesel coaches is problematic.

          There is no “hood” to open and work under.

          In most cases, you either need to lift the entire coach up in the air or have a garage “pit” to be able to work under it.

          I had to disassemble the entire rear vanity in the aft bathroom which gave access to the motor from above.

          And even that was a tight squeeze for John, the mechanic. It was a good thing that I had prepped for this event the previous day because it took me several hours to complete the task. It’s interesting that in the Motor Coach Manual, they give the instructions to accomplish this operation as, “Remove the screws from the cabinet face and set the entire assembly aside.”

          There were 35 screws that needed to be “removed” and it took  me the better part of three hours to complete this task. Had I waited for the guys to get here to start the process, we may still be on the side of the road!  

          We weren’t really aware of the extent of the hazardous road conditions until Paula left on her expedition to get gas in the Honda Lifeboat. We stupidly had only a quarter of a tank or so of fuel when we hooked up the towbars on Saturday morning. We really didn’t give it a second thought.

          We were towing it, not driving it!

Little did we know that we were soon to be at Ground Zero for             ‘The Great Texas Snowmageddon Massacre of 2021.’

          That is literally exactly where we were.

          All of the epitomes of meteorological excesses converged in that area just as we were passing through it and breaking down at the same time.

          I’ve always said that if there is going to be an event of catastrophic proportions that you may as well set a record for all of your troubles. What good is getting 30 inches of snow and having the record at 31 inches?  You may as well get a few more and at least have the bragging rights for a “Record Setting Event”!

          Who knew that way back when we set our sights on Texas for the Winter that my old thought process would bear itself out! It brings to mind another old saying,

          “Be careful want you wish for!”

          So here we sat at the intersection of Interstate 10 and Texas 290.

          Here is where the next services of any kind were located:

Kerrville, 40 miles to our East.

Junction 21 miles to our West.

Fredericksburg, 41 miles behind us.

          There is NOTHING in between these areas, so with 49 miles left on the tank of gas in the Lifeboat, Paula set out for Junction as soon as the repair guys got there. The weather was sunny, the temps around 19  and we could see the vehicles moving nicely in front of us on I-10. Junction is good sized town, it does not have a Walmart, but there are amenities galore for a town on the Interstate.

          It had everything that we could want except gas.

          Yup! You heard me. No Gas!

          The entire town was bled dry as folks abandoned the highway and sucked up every drop of fossil fuel they could during the storm. And of course, the re-supply trucks were strewn about on I-10, so no fuel was forthcoming.

          Who knew?

          Paula limped back to our relatively safe break-down spot with only about 10 miles left on the tank. Now there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it, Lifeboat really needed to be towed!

          The unsuccessful expedition out and back to Junction was apparently quite harrowing. Unbeknownst to us, who only had a small view of I-10 from where we sat, the road was, in fact, a disaster zone. Paula lost track of ditched cars, jack-knifed tractor trailers, and overturned vehicles with their wheels straight up in the air , looking more like dead animals than anything else on her fruitless sojourn into the unknown.

          She was quite shaken when she finally arrived back at camp.

          The guys finished up around noontime and we started the process of extricating ourselves from, what were to unfortunately find, were the relatively safe environs of our ‘Four-Day Camp.”

          Little did we know what was ahead of us but were soon going to find out.

          While we sat for those days, there were some vehicles that came down Route 290 from Fredericksburg to access I-10. They were moving along nicely so we did not think that reversing our course was going to be a big issue.

          It was a big issue.

          No, it was a huge issue.

          Maybe that doesn’t even do it justice.

          It was a gargantuan, humongous, massive, immense, and colossal issue.

          That may be overstating it a bit, so feel free to remove just one of the aforementioned excesses from my narrative.

          But just one.

          For before us lay the Route to Salvation, to the next Oasis, to Fredericksburg, Home of the Walmart Parking Lot and all of the safety and supplies that come with its opening arms and snuggly parking spaces that await weary travelers like ourselves.

          But first we need to “Run the Gauntlet”

          Not just any feat of winter driving skills mind you, this test had requirements.

          You needed to be in a large motorhome, weighing at least 26,000 pounds, with air brakes, (not as smooth as hydraulic brakes) towing a car behind you and only one lane partially open on the wrong side of the road.

          Oh, and the road needs to be ice and snow covered the majority of the way.

          And it needs to be 41 miles in length.

          It took us three and a half hours to arrive at our destination. Most of the way our speed varied between 12 and 16 miles per hour. There was one dry stretch for may be a quarter mile that I was able to get up to 24 mph, but the key is that you need to slow down from 24 mph when the road becomes dicey again. The problem with towing on slippery roads is that when you go around a bend, on a hill, and its banked, the towed vehicle wants to “slip” sideways and drag your rear end with it. So, one needs to keep up enough momentum so that it tracks behind you, but not so much that you start to skid to the opposite side which would require either a too rapid turn on the wheel or applying too much of the dreaded “air-brakes”.

          The fun part was playing “Chicken” with the oncoming traffic in the other lane which was the lane that was “open”, and we were travelling in. I would wait until I was sure that the approaching opposite vehicle could see me, (it was evident that I was endeavoring to stay in the traveled tracks on their side of the road) and in enough time, gently alter my course to take me up and over the snow hump in the middle of the road, and travel as smoothly as I could on the ice and snow of the lane I was supposed to be riding in.

          Whew!

          You may be asking yourself by now, “Why in the name of all that is Holy are they putting themselves though this?”

          We were asking ourselves the same question, but the answer is simple.

          We had no idea that the road was in that bad of shape when we started out.

          And there was no turning back.

           There were times when I wished that we were still back at “Safe Camp”, but the road was only one lane and there was definitely no room to even attempt a turn around. So, the only course was to forge on, hoping that there were no hills too steep to climb, or worse, to go down.

          We finally pulled into town, which only had partial power, found our Walmart, and proceeded to get gas in the Lifeboat and do some shopping. The Walmart‘s condition reminded us of the Dark Days of Covid, shelves bare and not much hope of anything getting through for re-supply.

          It’s only a four hour drive to Danny and Katie’s from here but it’s still several days away, depending on the weather

          But were safe, warm, and dry.

          And we were able to procure Sour Cream and Cheddar Potato Chips from Walmart. 

          Who could ask for anything more!

          Ah, Texas, the warm breezes and abundant sunshine make this place the perfect setting to spend the Winter in. Our days are filled with outdoor activities dressed in shorts and tee-shirts, with plenty of sunscreen to ward off those wonderfully evil rays of warmth!

          NOT!

          It seems that my old motto of, “If it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all,” is rearing its ugly head one more time.

          And it involves the infamous Interstate Route 10 in Southwest Texas. You regular readers are quite familiar with this roadway from former posts. It seems that this road has a personality, a mean streak as it were, that makes it very hard to establish a good relationship with and the worst part is that I don’t think it cares one bit about how I feel towards it.

          Once again we decided to abandon the warm, sunny forecast of snow and record low temperatures and do our best to get out of Dodge. We thought that we could squeak out in the weather window of opportunity that availed itself to us.

          Destination, Palm Springs, California!

          Frank, Joey, Sammy, Peter, and Dino were going to be in town. Frank gave me a call and said that us New Jersey guys needed to stick together, so he invited us out for a few days.

          All we had to do was bring the Taylor Ham and hard rolls.

          We left central Texas early Saturday morning hoping to arrive in Palm Springs midday Monday. The temps were in the high 20’s but unfortunately there was just enough moisture in the air to get things a little slippery, but still drivable. It takes us about 4 hours to get to I-10 from Brenham under normal circumstances. This time it took almost 6 hours to accomplish the same route.

          All would have been good.

          We could almost taste the westward advances that awaited us.

           If we finally entered the highway.

          NOT!

          “But what to our wondering eyes should appear, but massive dash warning lights that started to leer,”

          Yup, just like Apollo 13, the bells and klaxons started their audible shouts as the appropriate indicator lights on the dash began their psychedelic dance in front of us.

          “Uh, Houston, we have a problem.”

          Actually, I wish we were in Houston because there aren’t any weather-related issues there!

          It is now Monday morning and we are now entering Day #3 of our….

“Polar Roadside Breakdown Adventure”

          I guess that if you are going to breakdown basically in the middle of nowhere with low temperatures that have broken a 66-year-old record, then being in a motorhome is the way to go. We really do have all the comforts of home because……  we are HOME!

          But, depending on how long this lasts, the logistics may get a little dicey.

           Even though we can’t run the big engine, we are ok because the house part of the motorhome can be run independently from the chassis. We have electricity (generator), water, heat , food, puzzles, books, and movies, but all of these are in limited supply until we can get going again. And that is the gazillion dollar question.

          They don’t do Winter very well around here and who can blame them? Why waste tax dollars on an event that happens so infrequently. That’s why there is one snowplow for the entire state and their salt/sand distribution force is a retired guy with a Scotts Fertilizer Spreader that he fills with sand and rock salt.

          Manny, the tow guy that we’ve been in contact with, admitted that they are not good when the weather gets like this because……              The weather never gets like this, hence no snow/ice driving experience!

          So here we sit.

          Have you ever sat for over 40 consecutive hours listening to your Hazard Flashers do there incessant ding – ding – ding – ding? Even though we are on a relatively low-use road, it would be suicide to NOT have the little bastards doing their jobs. I wish that there were a silence mode for these guys!

          As I write this, the wind is buffeting us around, it is still dark outside, the temperature is 4 degrees, and the wind chill is at -17 degrees. Maybe today will be our lucky day and the non – Ice Road Truckers will be able to venture out and perform a rescue attempt. Where are the Reality TV people when you need them!

          Stay tuned!

I’m sure that you are all familiar with the scene in the movie Cars, when Lightning McQueen gets lost off of the Interstate (I-40), and winds up in the little town of ‘Radiator Springs’ whose main road through town was the old Route 66.  

          I am here to tell you that Cars is a true story.

          Maybe not the Lightning McQueen part is true 😊 but the ‘Radiator Springs’ part is definitely true.

          We drove through there.

          On Route 66.

          There isn’t another road in the Country, maybe even the world that is as iconic (and I don’t use that word lightly) as U.S. Route 66. Immortalized in song, verse, and film, this road has always captured the imaginations of past and present travelers.

          In the mid-20^th Century, it was the way west, out to Los Angeles, when freedom was just around the next bend. Back in the day, before President Eisenhower proposed the Interstate Highway System, there were major U.S. highways that bisected the Country from North to South, and East to West.

          Route 66 was the Queen.

           We left Lake Havasu City, and drove north to take Interstate Route 40 towards points east and eventually back to Texas.

          Then, there it was.

          Route 66, the Mother Road.

           I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

           We were about 30 miles into this leg when we came upon the town of Kingman, and a big exit sign read Historic Route 66. Kingman is one of the towns mentioned in the song, (Get you kicks on) Route 66 and the start of a section of Route 66 that is still in existence. Route 66 was ‘decommissioned’ and finally stripped of its title in 1985, after the last section in Williams, Arizona was finally made obsolete by I-40. It had served its purpose and was no longer needed to convey travelers back and forth.     

The Interstate did that more efficiently.

          But not better

          At Kingman, the highway diverges from I-40 and winds its way up and through some of the prettiest nothingness scenery anywhere.

          And through this nothingness, a few little towns spring up just because, that’s where they were formed. We were happy to be on the actual road but there was a small price to pay in mileage, time, and a slight case of the melancholies.

          I can not help but wonder what these small oasis’s separated only by miles, were like back when they were thriving outposts, places where, that weary traveler would stop and fill up both their stomachs, and their tanks before proceeding on their way. Many of the buildings are still there, vestiges of their former selves, preserved by the desert, as only it can.

          Think ghost towns.

          Back then, they did not know that they would someday be labeled iconic, all they knew was that they existed, like the rest of their contemporaries, to do a job, take care of customers, raise the kids, and hopefully save a few bucks for themselves.

          They were real.

          Today, these places are either abandoned, or the lucky ones have been rehabilitated to serve as a second generation of their ancestors, giving travelers a place to stop, not necessarily to fill their bellies and tanks, but more so, to fill the gaps left from before, when, the Interstate robbed us of all our local flavor.

          Before the homogenization of America.