We're RV'ing Again and we're still in the flow

First, here is the sunset on the first evening back in Boulder as we look out over the foothils to the Rocky Mountains.

We have been camping at the airport hanger of our friends in Boulder since Tuesday. This is the place where the RV has been stored since we left it there in June to head back home for tammy and Matt's wedding and a few other things. When we got up yesterday morning we knew and decided that it was time to hit the road again and to complete the daunting task of packing the RV with all of the stuff that we had taken out two months ago so that while we were back East so that our friends from out West could use the motor home for some vacations of their own. They were planning on taking the RV for a month long trip up to Washington and Oregon. But since one of their major construction projects was just busting into reality it became impossible for them to take the full contiguous month off. They did take ot for a couple of week long trips to Wyoming and had great fun. So, as it turned out it really was not necessary for us to have removed all of our items to make all of the basement and closet space available for them. But it did give us an opportunity to clear out and reorganize everything that we had loaded in the RV back last December. We took some things home and the rest got stored on a metal rack system within the hanger while we were gone.

At 9:30, Megan began by unloading all our items from the rack and and placing them piece by piece on to a furniture moving dolly, that she had placed a piece of plywood on top of for a platform. She did this because we were not able to easily carry the things from the rack to the RV, which I had moved from its side of the hanger, camping location, to its front of the hanger loading location. Jasper had taken care of opening the huge twelve foot high by fifty foot long doors as he loves to do via the electric motors with the five sets of cable winches that lift this crazy heavy door with ease. Megan, through numerous trips, was rolling the loaded goods on the dolly under the rear and main wings of the twin engine plane that is parked in the hanger, that belongs to our friends here in Boulder. She would roll it out close to the parked RV and drop it off to go back for another load while I began sorting and loading the variety of goods, tools and equipment that we had previously deemed necessary for this one year journey. We brought a lot of stuff and amazingly we have used most of it during the trip at one time or another.

You just have to take a look at, enlarge the picture by clicking on it, at the back of the RV. We, for sure, look like Jed and Jethro and the rest of the familyhitting the road for a better future. A good deal of my time was spent just installing this precarious load that dangles and somewhat innocuously follows behind the motor wherever we go. The one thing that made me feel better about MY load was that I passed an RV yesterday, traveling in the opposite direction that was towing a car behind it and a sailboat behind the car. We just look more white trashy then they did.

Once loaded, a mere five hours later, at 2:30 we sat down for a quick lunch before launching ourselves on route to the Northwest corner of the US for the very first time. We were done eating and ready to roll by 2:45 and it just gets cute from here for a few minutes. AS we pulled away from the hanger, I chortled loudly, "Here we Go!" Michaela started clapping. A few seconds later she was up whispering in Jasper's ear, who was sitting in the front seat, something that they both apparently agreed to, based on the wide smiles on both of their faces. They got very and uncharacteristically quiet and just kept grinning as I slowly meandered my way around the rest of the hangers and made it out to the airport exit road to the stop light before entering the main city road that would lead us out to the highway, out of Colorado and into Wyoming for the night. As the light turned green and I began my right turn and maneuvering the large, fully loaded vehicle out onto the street the kids, in unison gave us all a standing ovation, showing how happy they were to be on the road and embarking on the next part of our trip. It made me smile from the heart to know they were excited to be on the trip and paying attention and being a part of it in their sweet way. Later on in the late evening before we actually got to Casper, WY, Jazz came up and was sitting the the passenger seat quietly and I turned and asked him what he thought the best part of the day was. He looked at me thought for a few seconds and said, "getting back on the road." I told him, "Me Too!"

By 4 o'clock we were onto the real exciting adventure for the day and the subject of the next blog entry. See ya then.

The Fastest Road to Denver and Boulder Too!

The next morning, Megan and I were sitting outside the motel room on a bench eating cereal when Michaela came out and stood next to us. I asked her to stand still and be very quiet and listen to the sounds she can hear. She stopped and listened for a few seconds and looked at me like I was crazy and said, “I don’t hear anything, Grampi!” I replied, “That’s right, cause this is Kansas!” Soon after Meg put Mick's hair up for her and we loaded in and began the move.
We finished our light breakfasts’ and while the kids took showers, Meg and I packed the car for the very last car leg of the trip that would take place today as we head to Boulder, CO. It took us 7+ days to make this trip leaving from Middletown, CT last Tuesday at about 12 noon and we should arrive in Boulder this late afternoon. As you saw in yesterday’s entry, we took our pictures of the illustrious Midwest Motel and headed down the road towards Boulder still another, at least, 7 hours away.
After grabbing a coffee at the local convenience store and stopping at the post office to mail postcards for Michaela to home, we made once last roll by photo of a locomotive mural painted on the side of a building in downtown Stockton and then hit two lane highway 183 north for a short while to join us with Rt. 36 west that would lead us into Denver and the freeway 70. Route 36 by the way is touted and has been for 150 plus years as the fastest route from Indianapolis to the Denver gold fields. It is just a grand undulating road with beautiful scenes from every hill crest. I am not sure why everyone says Kansas is so flat, we never found the flatness as we cut across Rt. 24 from Missouri and connected with Rt. 36 all we found was rolling low hills and beautiful fields of corn of different variety, hay grass, soy, Huge fields of blooming sunflowers and sunshine and plenty of summer heat. The only obstacle we ran into on the entire crossing of the state was one area of road repaving which had turned the two lane into one and had us stopped for 20 minutes or so while we waited for the oncoming traffic to pass by. The temp was a balmy 104 at that time and sitting in the air conditioned car waiting beat the living shit out of being the person standing on the highway holding the infamous two sided slow/stop sign. She did not look happy!
After a few minutes on the road I got a call form Steve S. back home who had called to ask if he could borrow a piece of equipment that I have. I answered with my usual hello and heard his voice on the other end saying, “Hey, how’s it going?” I replied, “Ah, Alright!” Steve retorted, “Uh Oh! What’s up?” I said, “Nothing….., I am in Kansas.” We both laughed out loud for a while knowing that we could not have planned the conversational lead up to yet another Kansas joke. We talked for a bit longer before cell service got weak and he had to head off to do another task at hand. AS we hung up I was glad for cell phones and for friends to talk and laugh with.
About 25 miles up the road, we came to the intersection of routes 183 and 36. THE four corners in the town of Phillipsburg, KS. The traffic on 36 West does not have stop signs only the traffic heading north or south on 183 does. We were held at our stop sign for about 5 minutes for something you just don’t see back East, three massive tractor trailer trucks that were coming from the west and turning south onto 183. Now the trucks themselves were not the spectacle to us but their cargo of three back new huge, and I mean huge, brightly painted yellow Combines heading to some sales yard somewhere in Kansas. These tractors tires stood two Prius’ high without exaggeration. They looked like space ships someone had found in the middle of a corn field somewhere and probably cost about as much. We have come along way from hometown organic gardening!
We continued down the western path, about another 30 miles, to the town of Norton. I needed a pee break from the earlier extra large coffee so I pulled into the local Micky D’s. To our good fortune this one also had a Red Box machine so we were also able to return the movie we had rented the day before, all in one stop. While standing at the machine, returning the Red Box movie, a man, a McDonald’s employee was unfortunately sitting right next to the machine on the low, seat level brick ledge smoking a cigarette or two. It was only unfortunate because he was smoking. I had said Hi to him on the way into the buildings restrooms and now, standing this close to him, he began a conversation about the heat. We talked for a few minutes while the kids looked to find a film they wanted to watch. T was pleasant and I learned a bit about his world view and how he couched his life’s philosophy. He was a nice guy from Middle America who at this point told us of a personal movie recommendation. He suggested, “The Bucket List” with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. I asked him if he thought it was kid appropriate and he responded with, “Well I haven’t seen it but, people tell me its good. And Red Box doesn’t usually put movies in that aren’t good for the family.” As you can see I learned a lot about what he believes to be true in every sentence he spoke. I thanked him. Had the kids choose Nim's Island and I got The Bucket List for us to watch. It was good, a little predictable but touching just the same.
Our breaks on this trip, having two kids now, have been considerably longer then when just the three of us are traveling together. (Only, I believe, because Jazz has been previously outnumbered. Now that the numbers are two adults, two kids, they win every time and we stay at each resting place lots longer) And really this is all good. They have been in the car for 2000+ miles so far with very little in the way of discomfort, complaints or issues and the way that and what they do is a lesson to me each and every time we stop. There happened to be a subway store next to the McDonalds and upon sighting it Mick asked if she could get a sandwich (Lesson: eat when you are hungry) So we got a couple and shared them for lunch. All in the car, I began heading out of town but heard the little voice of wisdom saying maybe you should get fuel before you leave town. Learning to listen to this voice of intuition has proven wise so, I turned around and went to the gas station closest to us and filled up ($3.69).
As we pulled out of the station, Megan saw a small stone building across the street that she had previously looked up and knew as “Station 15”. (In early times, the Leavenworth and Pikes Peak Stagecoach Line ran through the site of Norton. Stations along the route provided food, lodging, and fresh teams of horses. New York Times publisher Horace Greeley spent the night of May 24, 1859 at Station 15 near Norton. Other famous travelers of the old west also stopped here, including Billy the Kid, Pat Garrett, and Roy Bean.) This was cool and all for us history buffs but more importantly for the kids, there was a playground located on the same grounds. The played on the See Saw and then the siwings for about ½ hour until it was time for us to hit the road. (Lesson: Play whenever you have the opportunity. It really makes a significant difference in your life. Oh and by the way, let the adults in the crowd see you playing because it makes a difference in their lives to if they are paying attention) Lesson: Pay attention to what the kids know intrinsically about life and get back to that stage as often as you can) Humm.. Lesson inside the lesson, I like that one!
Also at this stop in Norton, as well as at every other stop we have had, Megan cleans up and organizes the car to the point that it looks as if we have not even been traveling in it. This is so awesome! (Lesson: Allow your partner the opportunity to do what she loves whenever she wants to… and you will benefit too!
At 2:30 Central Time we left Kansas. Entered Yuma County, Colorado and Mountain Time simultaneously. Now it was 1:30 again and we just gained some daylight (with the exception of the large thunder and lightening storm we were driving into and could see from some 180 miles away because of the unobstructed viability of this part of the country.
I read the kids the latest blog entry and told them that I was keeping track of all of these days and events so that I could put them all into a book when we are complete. Jazz loved this idea and began singing one of his infamous little ditties’s that he comes up with all of the time. He sang, “Oh yeah, this is going to be an awesome book and I’m gonna get 50/50 of all the sales.” I told him that I could write another book on how Jasper has tolerated his parents on this entire trip. He replied in song, “ 50/50 makes me tolerate them really easy.” So far there is only a book and no publisher so as the old song line said, “Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.”

Read the "Flight Of The Cheyennes" sign to the right and you will lnow how the white people felt about the Indians back in the day and probably still today or at least when they made this signage"

We spent a week in Kansas, Yesterday!

After traveling for almost 8 months, last night we made it to Stockton, Kansas, finally, the pinnacle of just about anyone’s journey and here we were. We rolled into town at about 9 PM. We had been slowing down as we rolled through several towns, over the past couple of hundred miles, since about 5 PM and looking at the individual sole motels in each of the towns, eying them for acceptability for a nights stay. Some weren’t even open in these towns of only a couple hundred people and those that were looked somewhat scary and or nasty. I guess we have gotten used to the Comfort Inns and Holiday Inn Express’s of the world, so much so that looking at a small town; throw back to the 50’s (or 90’s) motel has little appeal to us. But regardless of the appeal, or lack there of, by the time we got to Stockton, we realized that we had no choices other than to keep driving with two kids who really wanted to get out of the car or to stay, like sleep, in the car or sleep outside under the stars with no bedding. Uh…… No thanks, not tonight!
So, I walk into the office of the long standing Midwest Motel, that has a little blue and white rectangular “Come In, We’re Open” sign hanging from a small chain on the inside of the door and ask the woman proprietor, who’s house is attached to the smoke filled and stale smoke smelling front office, if she has a room available with two double beds in it. She tells me that she does and I can feel myself start to relax just a bit, realizing that we don’t have to drive on any further and perhaps that I wanted to get out of the car as much or more than the kids did. As she is messing around finding the registration form I look around the room and see that she has a large long table set up that displays her knitting and crocheting that she has for sale. All around the room, that is paneled with thick, heavy cabin like V-groove knotty pine boards, there are miscellaneous wood carvings and paintings of animals I imagine are indigenous to this area. My last glance brings me to the wall directly behind the desk she is standing at. It is filled with framed, signed promo shots from all of the stars that have stayed in this motel over the years, There are pictures of the Hager Brothers, famous from Hee Haw, Martina McBride, Lee Greenwood. The woman owner was very pround of all of the stars that had stayed at her establishment.Must have been a long while ago for Greenwood and McBride cause I can’t imagine either one of them staying here now. I asked her when they stayed here and confirming my thoughts, she could not recall the years. She is very friendly and pleasant to deal with and even with that I could not wait to get out of the smoke scented or stained room. At that moment, Megan walks into the office and asks the woman, the seeming juxtaposed question, if the room she is assigning us is a non smoking room. I am certain that she has not heard this question too many times before and more certain that it is of very little consequence to her if a room has been smoked in or not and even less if we decide to take the room or not for the night. But she is very polite to Meg and tells her that they don’t separate rooms by smoking or non smoking but that she is sure that Megan will find the room just fine. I, realizing that I probably should have asked that question too, before I started filling out the registration card and having the proprietor start the credit card transaction, asked her if we could just check out the room before she finalized the deal. She, of course, agreed and we went down to the room. It was, as expected, an OK room. Small and dingy but, clean and made up fine, it did not smell like smoke (although nothing could match their office area) but it did smell stale and old and those odors were exacerbated by the heat build up in the room from the days temperatures that reached 106 degrees. And with all that, still, we found it acceptable for a nights stay. We must be tired and certainly we did not know of any other options and besides that, we could honestly say that this was the first time on this trip and beyond when we had supported local small business with our stay and we knew that our stay was having a direct impact on this family and that felt great. Maybe Jasper was not so aware of the difference he was making for these nice people. As he sat down on the bed, with a puss on stated, “Let’s not stay, it’s too small.” Losely translated I think that means he was pissed there was no pool.
I went back to the office and completed the sale and received the receipt and the remote for the TV. I went back again, a few moments later, to ask if there was an ice machine so that we could fill up our small plug in to the car adaptor (that doesn’t cool when the car is off) cooler to allow us to keep things good over night. She told me that there was not an ice machine but she could give us a small bucket of ice. There was no presumption in her voice or on her face that I would even want that and she stood there waiting for my response. I said, “Yes, please!” She shuffled off to one room off to the side of her kitchen area and soon returned with a small off white (smoke stained perhaps) plastic ice bucket on a matching round tray and hen moved to, I assume her freezer to fill it with home made ice cubes. She came to the front desk and handed me the ice and told me to hang on a second while she got me two more towels and a face cloth.
I waited for her to go off and get those things that she had offered, but while I was waiting I started to think,”I would bet these towels are gonna smell like smoke.” In about half a minute she came back and handed them to me and I said my thanks and headed out the door and back to room number 10. On the way back I stuck my face in the towels and discovered, to my surprise, that the towels smelled like fabric softener. Things were working out just fine, as usual.
As I walked into the room I felt the coolness shooting from the loud, but effective, A/C and it was beginning to cut the heat in the room to a bearable level and saw the kids already on the bed staring at the TV. Megan was futzing about with the cooler and getting things out to begin to put together things for our night meal before we began settling in for the nights sleep. All seemed well in Stockton, Kansas for the night or at least in our little 10 x 12 section of it, so I headed out to the downtown area to one of the two gas station/convenience stores that act as the local supermarkets to pick up some Mayo and Milk for this meal. Upon my return the parts were put together and a makeshift meal of Tuna sandwiches, cereal and various raw vegetables was had and enjoyed by all. It was like camping in.
Once the meal was complete and Meg began the clean up and getting the kids ready to get into bed, I headed out, once more, to go to the laundry mat in the next building adjacent to the motel, that is by default left open all night, meaning no one locks the door on purpose and did two loads of clothes using Dr. Bronners Peppermint soap as a substitute for laundry detergent. While the machines were doing their thing I read my emails and shot one off to my tenants back home about an issue that has been occurring there, regarding the folks next door, since we left. Even though it was now 11:30 PM it was good to have some alone and quiet time in the car by myself and on the computer, When the laundry finished I folded and made my way back to the room and settled into bed. As I did, Meg got into the bed having woken up when I came in and relocated herself from the kid’s bed to ours. Before I fell asleep moments later it was the beginning of a brand new day in Middle America. I was glad to be where I was, next to my wife in a bed, in the midst of the ones I love in somewhere, Kansas.

Our Day After The Ramada - Great St. Louis

In the morning on Saturday, August 2, 08 after we gratefully evacuated ourselves from the hotel from hell we headed down to Old St. Louis along the Mississippi. The gateway to the city as marked by the unforgettable Arch. The monument that celebrates the westward movement of civilization (if you will) in this country. It is part of what is called the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial. It is part of the trio of monuments that also include the Museum of Westward Expansion, and St. Louis' Old Courthouse. It is a grand site and has a lot of history. It is the first site designated by a president as a national historic site after having been given the powers by congress to do so.

There was a competition to create a monument for this area in St. Louis as businesses set an intention to bring the area back to life after it had fallen into disrepair when business interests shifted focus away from the port area back in the day. The architect that won, with his design of this massive 630 foot tall and 630 feet apart from base to base, stainless steel arch was Eero Saarinen who won the competition in 1948 never saw its construction even begin. The Arch was built between 1963 and 1965 and Eero died in September of 1961. What a shame that is. This arch is most beautiful and very strongly associated with St Louis.

We spent a great deal of time in the old court house and with the kids doing the junior ranger program. The had to move all about the building searching out answers to the questions found in the prepared booklet that were designated appropriate for a variety of different age groups. This was an activity that Jasper tolerates because he wants the badge but dislikes the reading and having to look to uncover and reveal the answers. However Michaela, just loved the challenge and was totally into the process and earned her first junior ranger badge in her life as a result. At one time, when we were standing in one of the court rooms answering one specific question about how do you think it would feel for you to be in this actual court room during a trial, she looked up at me and said, "Judgeful." After we had completed the booklet and were walking towards the ranger station to have it reviewed and to receive her badge, she looked at me and exclaimed, "This is the best day of the trip so far." She is a great student of learning.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city. Visiting Busch Stadium and eating at the Spaghetti Factory before we headed back to Dave and Sherries to collect our bikes and head out to Hannibal. Here are some of our photos of the day.

Hannibal, Florida, Paris ending in Marshall

Today we spent almost the entire day in Hannibal and Florida, Missouri going through the Mark Twain houses and Museums. In Hannibal we saw his childhood home and stomping grounds as well as the house of his girl friend who became Becky Thatcher in the Tom Sawyer books. Clemens is most defitnitely an idol or dead mentor of mine regarding writing and perhaps most importantly how to live life. The more I learn of his adventures and escapades the ,more I am enchanted and can see parralels that I would like to continue to align with and manifest. We'll see!

Jazz and I met George Scott on the streets who is one of the two Twain impersonators operating in town, He is the one that they don't like and there is a lot of bad blood in America's Hometown.
We had lunch in the Mark Twain Dinnette and then completed our tours of the requisite museums and gift shops.

We jumped back in the Prius and headed out another 30 miles west to the birth place of Clemens. The small wood frame house was moved into a building that had the roof constructed first, then the house was installed in its entirety, in one piece, and then the walls of the museum were built under the roof and surrounding the house.

The kids (Jazz and Michaela) loved this day and so did I and Megan didn't seem to mind it at all. It was one of the most interesting and inspiring days on the journey back to Boulder. Knowing that we were headed to Clemens' birthplace and homes we have been reading the adventures of Huckleberry Finn to them in the car on our rides between places. Jazz has seen this story in the film version previously but they are both captivated by the written story and listen for long spells without interuption (with the exceptional question to undersatnd some concept or word)

Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn and ME!

It is about 7 AM here in Hannibal, Missouri. The skys are grey blue, yet well lit through the minor morning overcast appearance. A man I met getting coffee this morning said that he said it was supposed to be in the high 90's again today and that he thought it looked like rain, but, more than being the truth, I think this is just what old men, like us, say to each other in the morning. The morning breeze is steady with gusts that just light up my soul this morning as the 68 degree temperatures make it very easy to handle being in the midwest on a beautiful and inspiring mid summer morning.
A freight train blasts in behind me, blowing its tooth rattling horn way to loudly and repeatedly. The engines are pulling many open top coal cars, flat cars with rolls of steel strapped down on them, large tankers with the ADM logo emblazoned on the sides and other jet black and light gray tankers carrying undisclosed materials, along with open slotted and corrugated steel paneled cars carrying who knows what, possibly livestock, followed by the run of the mill regular box cars with heavy steel sliding doors, some with the doors still half open as they run down the tracks just tempting the hobo or gypsy in me to run and jump on board into one and take the trip just to find out where it is going. As a kid I read and heard of many stories of men who walked the tracks and rode along on these dirty old freight cars some even knowing where they were going. This is another thing that today I find romantic and would like to try just once in my life. The train cars pick up speed as the entire assembly processes through on the outer edge of town with out even the faintest idea that I am here taking in each moment of bliss in this magical spot. The only disappointment for me in this very moment is that at the end of the train, there is no caboose just the last baby blue box car.
I am sitting in the our hybrid car at a portion of the town docks right on the edge of the mighty Mississippi River. In front of me to my right is the modified steamboat named the Mark Twain. She is all decked out with those (old fashioned) plastic backyard chairs we are almost all familiar with, for all of us tourist who enjoy getting on such throw back pleasure boats and motoring around the river for a while reliving the stories of Mark and Huck and the gloriously romanticized life on the mighty river. Two young guys have just arrived . One on a bike and the other in his car. The guy with the car is obviously the man in charge as he has a set of keys that lets him into the lacked gate that could stop only the least of those desirous of getting onto the dock and to the front door of a floating barge/house boat looking thing that is the actual ticket office and gift shop for the "Mark Twain" replica steamship. I am mere steps away from the boyhood home of Samuel Clemens and most likely sitting on a spot where he played or walked or took in the sites, smells and scenes that would later lead to the nation capturing stories that would pop from his imagination for our enjoyment. Perhaps he even boarded a steamship here for the first time. I am going to believe that that is what happen for now.
To my left is the tug "Sir Randall" sitting idle waiting for a job but just one space to the left of it is the tug "Sir Randy J" diesel motors running, captain in the perch and the front end pushed up snug against the barge she is to maneuver one way or another on the river once clearance has been provided. As I sit watching and writing, simultaneously, the "Sir Randy J" fires up its diesel engines to begin to push the barge away from the dock and to maneuver it into position for its river journey today. As much as it seem pointless to me, at the same time, I am captured by the ships movement and my desire to be up in the perch with the captain as he heads out for the day or the week. Just to try it and see what life on the river is like for a tug captain. As he pushes away upstream another set of 8 huge interconnected, at least 100 foot long loaded barges are being pushed downstream by a huge white tug with many symbolic names painted on the side including the familiar ADM logo and among others, lettering that spells out Cooperative Vanguard. The "Sir Randy J" has pushed out of my sight up river from the dock and I have sadly missed this opportunity to set off with it for the day.
The river is flowing strong along the sides of the dock as she makes her way south toward the shores of New Orleans and into the Gulf of Mexico some 800 miles away by car and I am certain alot longer by meandering river.
Way off at 8 o'clock from the position I am sitting as I face the river are an organized group of young people playing mud volleyball in a tournament that is being held here on the banks of the river. It strikes me that we are drawn to these places along side the water and in the midst of doing the things of our lives we are also creating the stories of our lives in the almost unseen midst of the landscape we do them in. For this place was made magical by the likes of Mark Twain and could be again by anyone of us here today, especially the boys operating the floating gift shop or the captain of the Sir Randy J and perhaps they will, but as I look at them in their current endeavors it seems that they have other things on their minds or possibly nothing at all of any significance on their minds except to do what they believe that are charged with or are assigned to do this day.
I am thrilled to have come here and to feel my soul soar and heart expand as I take in and experience the being and the playground of Samuel Clemens and the genius that this place inspired in him. It is easy to imaging how it did just that. This town is the self proclaimed Americas Hometown and it is just that. It has this easy go feel to it and that feeling is amplified as I sit watch and listen to the sights and sounds along the river. Across the way, across the river on the eastern shore from this dock is a sandy shore on what looks like an island. I could easy create a story of my own about crossing the river on a raft, to drift away on during this small town Sunday summer morning as a second freight train slowly and mightily saunters on by, behind me. This one taking a part of my precious remaining hearing with it from every blast of its air horns.
Coal, Coal and more Coal on its way to some power plant in some large city America where we are just waking up looking in our contemporary freezing cold ice boxes (refrigerators) and turning on the morning coffee pot to enjoy while we sit and read the paper or watch the morning news or cartoons on TV depending on your preference. We who live in the east have no or very little knowledge of these goings on. The excavation, shipping and burning of coal for power for our homes and businesses is not in our consciousness any more. We hardly use the trains for personal transport and rarely, if ever, see cargo trains any more. How juxtaposed it seems to be sitting looking at the broad and mighty river and all its power and undying strength (as witnessed many times by floods in various parts of our country) and to witness perhaps millions of tons of coal slide by me, right behind me within 50 feet, in the rear view mirrors. These 120 freight car trains take four massive running diesel powered locomotives, two in the front and two pushing from the rear, to move their freight from dig site to drop off point. I am told that it takes one 120 car train full of coal to operate one Chicago electrical plant for one 24 hour period. That is a lot of need for coal.
The sun is up again as predicted (and remember it is supposed to be another 90 plus degree day today) and the breeze is blowing strongly through my open car windows (soft to the feel on my skin) and as I look around, searching for signs of the kind of change I am interested in I don't see even one solar panel or windmill in sight. Not to mention the power of the river water passing silently and forcefully before me. Some day we will get it and use what has been gifted to us silently and abundantly using very little force to maintain and have the things that we love to have available to us with out damaging the earth or the Ozone. I look forward to that day and will do my part to get us there but for now I am just going to breath in the glory of this beautiful planet.
Oh Yeah, I have to go back to the hotel and pick up the family. Thank god for cell phones!

Ohio to Missouri

Friday morning we put our things together, helped snake the sewer line one last time and loaded the bikes on the back of the Prius (with the car top carrier mounted up top, three bikes stacked on therack on back, the load of clothes and other assundry items we are bringing back (traversing America with) to the motor home and the four of us in the car - our gas mileage has gone from the avg of 48- 50 mpg to 33 - 36 mpg (I was very surprised by how dramatic the difference was.) As a very pleasurable offset we did though buy gas in Dayton for $3.59 on this very day just before we hit the highway for the 6 plus hour journey to St. Charles, Missouri. (This is the home of Megan's brother David and his wife Sherrie who currently share a home and live with her brother Lee and his son Eric.) When we left CT on Tuesday the lowest we saw gas drop to was $3.99 so it has dropped more significatly here in the mid west. You know where all the oil comes up from the ground and all the delivery ports are.
We pulled into the historic city of St. Charles directly off the highway and we met up with them (Dave and Sherrie) at about 7:30 last night and immediately Dave and I went shopping to get goods for a meal to prepare at home. When all was said and done we finished eating and talking after 10 and quickly shoved off to try to find our hotel back at the Lambert-St. Louis International Airport, St. Louis Missouri. Now, I don't want to mislead you or for you to even think for a minute that that designation for that airport in the afore mentioned, St. Louis, will help you at all if you are ever trying to find this airport via GPS in St. Louis, because you will not find it in St, Louis. Thus, the sucky part of the evening had just begun.
We plugged the address of the Ramada hotel that was listed on the national website that we booked thru and on the email confirmation that they had sent to us into the GPS. However the number (4545) of the building was not showing up on the street (North Lindbergh Blvd.) they gave us in St. Louis. Unbeknowst to me the GPS had automatically shifted to the highest number available (2799) North Lindbergh Blvd. when I had put in address number 4545. So off we went thinking we were heading to the address we had plugged in. After following the GPS directions to the automatically programmed 2799 address and finding no Ramada Inn there, I began looking at the GPS a bit more closely and was quite surprised when I actually saw the address it had directed us to. Searching its data bank for answers, I noticed that there was a 4545 South Lindbergh Blvd. so I set that in thinking that the road they gave us was a mistake. This turned out to be my big mistake. I followed this road back about 15 miles to the address I had just plugged in on South Lindbergh only to not find a Ramada there either. Feeling very frustrated at this hour of the night, after a long day of driving and visiting, this time I pulled into a parking lot (not my normal immediate pull over to the side of the road thing) and Megan, who was staffing the internet connection found the Ramada national reservation phone numberand I called them for assisatnce with finding the damn hotel and they offered only the local hotel number as there way of helping. (I just can't tell you enough how invaluable the Verizon PC plug in internet card has been while on this trip. It has provided almost immediate internet access all over the country with the exception of only two rather remote places I can think of) I called the front desk and got an, oh so, put on, pleasant person who was obviously at or over the end of her shift. (mind you it is fast approaching 11:15 PM and that we had just crossed into central time zone earlier in the day so this is really our 12:15 eastern for us and more importantly for the kids who are tired as hell from the six plus hour drive earlier in the day, then the visit, then the escapade to find the friggin hotel) The nice woman at the front desk puts me on hold for 7 minutes while she is looking for the shuttle driver to take the call from me to try to figure out where I am and how the hell to get me back to the right address and the hotel. I should have begun to get that, what the hell is going on feeling and listened to it before I ever went to the hotel, but being that I booked it so late in the day (as we were running out of gas, for the very first time ever in the Prius, which just shouldn't happen but as I said our gas mileage was severely impaired using the car as a moving van, on the bridge crossing over the Missouri River... but thats another story) it was not a cancelable reservation anyway. He politely tells me that if you are doing the directions by GPS you need to enter Bridgeton, MO as the town and not St. Louis. This sucks as the only city listed anywhere we could find for the "Ramada - St. Louis Airport" was friggin ST. LOUIS. Right, why didn't I think of that. The St. Louis airport is in Bridgeton. Coming from CT where the Windsor locks location of Bradley Field is call Hartford/Springfield I really should have known.
Well changing the town/city in the GPS made all difference in the world, however, we were still some 15 miles by 1/2 hour in the wrong direction from the hotel. We arrived at the front desk for the rest of the evenings festivities at 11:45.
They checked me in and took my money and gave me room keys for 238. Meanwhile Megan and the kids were getting the hotel cart loaded with all of our necessary gear for the overnight, ready to transport to our luxurious suite for the evening. Proudly walking next to my family with the loaded cart, heading towards the elevator we walk from the Air Conditioned lobby area into Dantes inferno. It had to be 95 in the hall as we waited for the elevator to the second floor. The elevator arrived, the doors opened and we got in to the super heated cubical from hell and headed to the 2nd floor. AS we got out of the elevator and began the long hall walk from 200 to 238 we came into view of our neighbors for the night. There were at least 12 older teen aged young men scattered throughout the hall way each with their own portable electronic device of some sort. Each leaning on a wall, spread out on the floor or pacing around the hall. Megan, without even breaking her stare at them said, "Well this is not looking promising!" I stopped everybody in their tracks and turned the family motion back towards the elevator. We got to the first floor and I sped back to the front desk to get assigned a different room for the night. I explained to the new front desk person (because happy girl had been relieved) that the second floor looked like a college dorm room and that at this hour of the night I needed a quiet space for the kids and us to get to sleep. They, already knowing of the 2nd floor situation although having done nothing about it, reassigned us to room 130.
I told them that I wanted to go down and check out the room first at this point before we committed to keeping it for the night. The guy told me that there were no other rooms like what we had reserved available. This was not going to be an real issue for me if the room was not what we wanted, except that I did not want to try to find another hotel at 12 AM. I went down to the room trying to be as open as possible to liking the room so that we could just stay and sleep. I tried to get the key and door lock open four times before I walked the 1/4 mile back to the front desk yet again to tell them I could not get in. The dude told me that many of there locks were worn out from all the years of use so I should try lifting the habdle instead of pushing down. (ever get so yused to a problem that you just find ways to manage instead of dealing with it? I had the impression that when you paid for a hotle room you as the guest wern;t realy supposed to have to deal with this kind of stuff but I found out I was wrong about that at Ramada - St. Louis Airport in Bridgeton) I went back down and did as instructed and got the door opened. All of my personal openness was necessary. As I walked into the room with 7 year old grand daughter Michaela by my side, the first words out of her mouth were, "It smells in here!". She was right it did smell stale and a bunch like some deodorized cleaner but this could be overlooked or at minimum tolerated. The AC was blasting but it was barely past warm in the room. I naively thought that maybe they had just turned it on recently and that it would really get cool later into the night. WRONG!