Back To Colorado

Oct 6th, 2012
 So nice to wake up in our own bed, and have everything done needs to be done before we go out. We had a leisure morning with our coffee, me blogging.
  9 am we needed to eat something. (I didn’t wanna mess up my clean kitchen) and we needed a few things from Wally world. Now do we visit the in-laws on the way to Wally World or do we do shopping first. I voted for shopping, put off going into the lion’s den as long as possible.
  I had my list nearly completed, Van went to wait for me up front while I ran to grab milk. I got the milk, looked at veggies and my phone rang... it was the dispatcher.
  I inadvertently put MY cell phone number on van’s application.. So they call my phone. We have tried to tell them but... yano how busy ya get and to edit a number on the cell phone, it’s easier for now to just call the number on it... right?
I am running with my loaded cart to the front of Wal-mart holding out my cell phone hoping Van see’s me and meets me half way... NOPE.
  We loaded the car and back on the road again within minutes:)
Where to this time.... same run.. Nooooo but it’s okay I”m sure we’ll see other parts of the country soon enough

Our Truck

So we made it home, rest and relaxation... WRONG!

I grabbed ground beef out of the freezer to defrost in the microwave, threw laundry in the washer and started it. Dragged out my sewing machine to reinforce the Qualcom holder. Oh yeah forgot to mention that...

 Van said I wish I had a holder a type of pocket...

 ooooo I grinned (this was before we got all the junk taken out of the truck after we sorted thru it 3 times.) I whipped out my little bedside organizer. (I told ya I brought everything BUT the kitchen sink! Never know what ya might need.)

 I slipped it over the door of the glove box and slammed it shut... wow it works perfect! The big pocket holds the Qualcom, it has a kleenex department (yup we loaded our kleenex in it) another pocket for a book, scissors, maps etc.

(you can see not much room between the seats.)

Our entire Kitchen, (food in the red and white bag, popcorn popper, on a shelf on top of the microwave. This is hanging over our bed.)

All the storage we have in the sleeper behind my seat. Top shelf: food 2nd shelf plates,plastic flatware, cups, coffee, 3rd shelf: coffee pot, crock pot. fridge is below the third shelf.

opposite storage, is our shower/bathroom storage below that is our only closet.
and our bed

Mother in Law

(singing that old song) mother in law.. mother in law...

Mother-in-law calls:

 When did you take Dad to his last appointment?

Me: It's on your calendar, sometime in Sept.

Her: I ripped that page off already. When did you take him?

Me Sept 14. (I can't remember and I don't have my calender with me on the truck.)

Her: Well Dr. H wants to see him again, I don't know why he needs to see him after just two weeks.

Me: Dr. H is his skin doctor, the one we went to was his surgeon, he NEEDS to go see Dr. H after all the surgeries.

 Her: Okay I guess he can keep this appointment.

(I was trying not to laugh)

This morning before 8 am Van's phone rings
"Did you know Geannii put SOAP in Dad's aloe vera?"
"What?"
 "Dad brought home the Aloe Vera that was on your dryer, you're not going to use it."
"I don't know what to tell ya, but... remember when Jeanne asked you to save Dad's empty Aloe Vera jugs so she could put soap in them for the truck?"
"Oh yeah, why didn't she mark it?
"It is marked on the OTHER side of the jug"
"Oh so it is."
(I'm still laughing, Why get upset at things I can't stop, like going into my house and taking stuff they gave to me.)

Home Country — My Foot

We finally crossed into HOME country. You know that feeling — you relax a little, breathe easier, think, Ahhh, my people. My kindred. My tribe.

DO NOT FEEL THAT WAY.

Dollar General was across from Love’s, and you KNOW you have to shop when the opportunity presents itself. Truck stops only carry so much, and none of it is what you actually need.

I made it safely across a busy four‑lane highway, bags in hand, headed back to the truck. Six empty fuel islands. Twenty‑five empty parking spaces. I crossed the island straight across from our truck — the ONLY truck on that side of the lot.

That’s when I saw him.

A truck barreling toward me like we were in some kind of NASCAR event I didn’t sign up for. I didn’t even know we were racing.

He came straight at MY island. Straight at ME.

I side‑stepped out of his way like a startled deer. He could’ve parked ANYWHERE — the lot was empty. He could SEE Van sitting in the driver’s seat of the ONLY truck around. Logic says I’m going to get in on the passenger side, right?

Apparently not.

He whipped around and came roaring back toward me AGAIN as I walked toward our truck.

I ran to Van’s door, and he let me in like we were escaping a crime scene.

“What is his problem?” I said, breathless.

“You saw that?” Van asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “I think he was having such a great day he wanted to give me LOTS of insurance… and I was just too quick for him.”

Getting Potatoes

he APU was officially dead. Not sputtering, not coughing — dead. And because we had an energy‑efficient truck with a strict no‑idle rule, that meant no heat. It was seven degrees outside. Seven.

We were freezing.

Van finally started the truck and drove in circles around the yard at 2:30 in the morning just to keep us warm. The truck would only stay running if it was moving. If it stopped, it shut down in five minutes.

So there we were, doing laps in the dark like two lunatics in a diesel‑powered merry‑go‑round. But the cab warmed up, and Van crawled back into bed. What a beginning to our grand adventure.

In the morning, Van started the truck so I could make coffee. Just as the last gurgle of hot water went through the filter… the truck died. Right on schedule.

We got permission to take the truck in for an APU filter change. One hour and $300 later (their money, not ours), we were back on the road.

This time we were headed to San Luis, Colorado to pick up bulk potatoes. Bulk. In a box trailer. We had no idea how that was going to work, but apparently we were about to find out.

The guy gave us directions — and fair warning:

“Get a biiiiig piece of paper.”

He wasn’t kidding.

The directions, exactly as given:

• Take 285 to Romeo, Colorado

• Turn right on 142

• Go 22 miles to San Acacio

• Turn left on County Road 12N

• Left on County Road X (No markings. None. Not even a suggestion of a sign.)

Ten miles later we were passing roads AA, BB, CC, DD… So we stopped and called again.

“Remember the house with the blue roof?” he said. “You mean ten miles back?” “Yup, that’s the one.”

Sure. We’ll just make a U‑turn on a two‑lane dirt road with a 53‑foot trailer. No problem.

Van backed into a dirt lane to turn around. He said, “Don’t mention the mailbox.” We didn’t knock it down — just scraped it. It was still standing. Mostly.

Take two:

• Right on CR X (at the blue‑roof house)

• Right on CR 10

• Left on CR Z

• Go 2½ miles

And there it was — the potato operation.

A truck came in from the field, and a conveyor belt pulled the potatoes off. They shook the dirt off, rolled them onto another belt, shook them again, and sent the dirt onto a different truck. Then a giant tube gently dropped the potatoes into our trailer, which was lined with plastic like a giant potato bathtub.

We had to wash our hands before touching the product. As if we were going to touch anything. Sure, okay.

One man motioned for Van to pull forward four different times as they loaded. They only filled it about five feet deep — potatoes are heavy. We weighed in at 79,100 pounds. Legal limit is 80,000. Perfect.

They shut the doors, slapped a seal on it, and sent us on our way.

But the real question was: How do you unload a trailer full of loose potatoes?

Simple.

You back into a steep pit, they flood the trailer with water, and the potatoes float right out the back like tiny, bobbing escape artist

Day 2 of our Adventure

I woke up staring at a bright little star twinkling through the overhead bunk window. Not a satellite — this one actually twinkled. The things you miss living in a house.

We started the morning with someone pecking on the truck door to wake us up. Too late — we were already dressed with our first cup of coffee in hand.

Jim and Leann Allen live in Tucumcari. We’ve known them for over twenty years. Van showed Leann a light on the dash and asked if she knew what it meant. She used to drive with her husband Jim, so she’s practically a walking truck manual.

She squinted at it and said, “Looks like a camera. Why would they put a camera on your truck?”

I said, “For when thieves shove the security lights toward the sky to steal all your tires.” Yes — that actually happened to us in Denver. We backed up to our trailer, hooked on, got ready to pull out, Van went to kick the tires… and there were no tires. All the security cameras were pointed straight up like they were watching for UFOs.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve become one of those old ladies who tells her husband what he can and can’t eat. Van looks at the menu and says, “Okay… what can I have?” If he phrased it like, “What should I eat?” I wouldn’t get the “Oh, you’re one of THOSE controlling wives” look. So I ordered for him. Hey — he doesn’t hurt now.

We had two extra hours after our friends went to work, so we walked to K‑Mart. Van bought a notebook for all the paperwork we have to fill out. I bought licorice. I can’t go long without it. They say it’s good for your stomach, and we all know whatever “they” say is gospel.

Driving through Albuquerque, we were mesmerized by the stone artwork along the highway — six‑foot geckos, roadrunners, blackbirds, rabbits, turkeys. Not wild turkeys, either. These were pilgrim turkeys a child had colored with bright crayons. Every bridge was painted — turquoise, pottery pink, pearl white. Not a speck of boring grey anywhere. Miles and miles of it. We couldn’t believe the money they spent.

Then came the Albertsons saga.

We had to go to four different Albertsons stores. No big deal… until we discovered one of them was on a road where trucks weren’t allowed. We missed our turn and ended up sitting at a red light ON the forbidden road.

Our choices were: Left — forbidden. Right — forbidden. Or a U‑turn with a 53‑foot trailer that’s 13 feet tall.

Yeah right.

But Van did it. A perfect U‑turn like he was driving a Honda Civic. I, on the other hand, would’ve turned left and said, “Kiss my 53‑foot trailer!”

For supper, I decided we’d better eat the bierox I made at home.

We’d been told, “Use any electrical appliance you want — you have an APU. The engine won’t idle more than five minutes, but the APU will keep everything running.”

So I turned on the APU, plugged in the microwave, put in two little bierox, hit start… and everything shut off. The APU sputtered and died. Tried again. Sputtered and died. Again. Dead.

Van called dispatch. They said, “Reset it.” He did. Still dead. And by then, dispatch had gone home.

So there we sat with cold bierox and a useless APU.

Van said, “Well… I can start the engine. Will it take longer than five minutes?”

I started laughing because I could already see it — us restarting the truck every five minutes just to cook dinner.

And that’s exactly what we did.

Day One on Our Adventure

October 2, 2012 — Day One of the New Adventure

Our first day on the road, and we were already off to a classic start.

We picked up the trailer, and Van did exactly what he was told: start the reefer before leaving the yard. Except the moment he hit the switch, oil poured out like the trailer was bleeding out in the parking lot.

The shop guy came running. “Oh yeah,” he said, “we left the cap off the oil.” He grinned and offered to wash it off like that made everything fine.

Then he looked at Van and said, “Man, I wish I could grow hair like you.”

Van said, “You can.”

The kid shook his head. “Nooo, I can’t,” and pulled off his hat to show his shiny bald head.

Van pulled off his own hat. The kid’s eyes lit up. “Can I borrow that?”

Next thing we knew, he disappeared into the shop wearing Van’s hair hat. We could hear the laughter from inside. Van’s hair was having its own adventure.

After the shop kid ran off wearing Van’s hair hat like he’d just won the lottery, we figured that was the end of the day’s entertainment.

We were wrong.

In Fort Garland, we stopped at Del’s Diner. The waitress came straight over with menus, but she wasn’t looking at the menus. She was staring at Van.

“I have to know,” she said, leaning in. “Is that your hat?”

“Yes,” Van said. “It’s actually a visor.”

She shook her head. “No… is that your hair? The other girl and I disagree. I say it’s a hat. She says it’s your hair.”

Van didn’t say a word. He just reached up, grabbed the brim, and lifted the whole thing off.

Her eyes got huge. Then she burst out laughing.

“I knew it!” she said. “I bet you get a lot of attention with that hat.”

Van put it back on and said, perfectly calm, “I bet you’re right.”

And just like that, Van’s hair hat had fans in two states.

I set the Garmin to “Westbound and Down,” because that’s exactly what we were — loaded up and trucking with Christmas lights, wrapping paper, and toys. We didn’t know where we were going, but we were definitely going to have fun getting there.

By 9:30, I had reached my fun limit. I couldn’t find my pajamas, so I crawled into Van’s and climbed into the bunk.

You know those old vibrating motel beds you put a quarter in? Well, I had my own free version. I have no idea why anyone would want a vibrating bed. My face was itching from bouncing on the sheet. I stole Van’s feather pillow — it didn’t bounce nearly as bad.

And honestly? Compared to our first truck, this sleeper was luxury.

That old 1979 Mack with the coffin sleeper… Lord help me. They took out the back window, stuck a boot between the cab and the sleeper, and you had to crawl through and drop onto the bed like you were entering a crypt.

Van and his dad had stuffed half‑inflated river innertubes under the sleeper to keep it from bouncing so hard you’d physically leave the bed on every bump.

It still bounced me so much I was sore the next day.

So compared to THAT? This new sleeper floated like a butterfly.