We bought our 24-foot Airstream Interstate motor home almost exactly one year ago. It was the middle of COVID lockdowns and we were desperate to get to Winona Lake, Indiana to see Lisa’s 91-year old father. We named it the Winona Rider, watched a bunch of You Tube how-to videos, and set off on an adventure that was memorable, but, in our minds would last only until the pandemic ended. I figured we could sell our motor home and recoup most of the money we spent to buy it.
Well, the pandemic is largely over for those of us who are vaccinated and here we are driving across country on a month-long trip to Winona Lake and back again with scheduled adventures along the way. Today is day four of this trek. We’ve already experienced reunions and, uh, misadventures. Let’s rewind to last Friday.
Lisa and I had spent the previous three days preparing for our 9:00am Friday departure. We were pros. We had this down. Fill the fresh water tank — check. Empty the black and gray water tanks — check. Groceries loaded into the van — check. Engine fluids filled — check. Packing cubes efficiently assembled — check. Dog food — check. Reservations at every stop along the way — check. I even bought tire pressure monitors to ensure we knew immediately when we had a flat tire!
Lisa gave me the new insurance card and I opened the glove box to put it in the folder with the vehicle registration. Hmm. I know the folder was in here. I clearly remember placing it there. But, the registration was nowhere to be found. We started to search everywhere. Did I really ever have it there? If we can’t find it, how quickly can we get a copy? Lisa went into the house to search and I started looking through the van. The Winona Rider has a lot of drawers and cabinets and cubby holes so this took some time. Finally, I looked under the passenger seat and, on a ledge below the seat sat the little folder we keep the registration and insurance in. How it got there we’ll never know. But, whew. We found it.
OK, well, that only took 20 minutes. Our first night was to be with Mike and Mary Frandsen at their home at Lake Tahoe. Mike and Chris Dittmore had scheduled a 2:00 tee time for nine holes of golf and wanted me to join them. No problem. We still have plenty of time to get there. Except . . .
We opened the back gate where we park the van and were ready to pull out. I leaned over, gave Lisa a big kiss and said, let’s go on an adventure!. I inserted the key, turned the ignition and — nothing.
The battery was dead.
Now, fortunately, the Boy Scout in me was ready. I jumped into action like the father in a “A Christmas Story “ when he got a flat tire. (Note: Lisa never hollered “Fuuuudge” during this process.) It was fortunate that I had purchased a new lithium battery jump starter and I opened the back door to the van, pulled it out, and attached it to the battery. Unfortunately, this process was not quite as easy as advertised and the charger needed to be hooked up for a while until it transferred enough power to the battery to start the van.
While we were waiting, our friend Susan Reckers strolled by. “Are you guys leaving? Have a great trip!” We had to embarrassingly explain that there was a slight delay. She said she hoped she wouldn’t see us here when she came back from getting her coffee.
OK. I got the van started. My Amazon purchase paid off! Here we go! We pulled out of the driveway and started on our way. Lisa drafted a text to Susan that we were on our way when an alarm interrupted our elation. It was the new tire pressure monitor telling me that we had a very low tire on the right rear inside tire (we have dual tires on the rear). We had made it exactly 1/2 mile and we had experienced our third mishap. I pulled over in front of St. Isidore School and went to work again.
Since I didn’t trust the new monitors, I pulled out my trustee old-school tire pressure gauge and learned that yes, in fact our tire was very low. But, Mr. Boy Scout was ready. I went into the back of the van and unpacked the tire inflator. I plugged it in and put another 10 pounds of pressure in the tire. Ready to go. Only 40 minutes late now. I am certain we can make that tee time in Tahoe.
Onto the highway and we’re off. Except the tire pressure monitor is telling me that the same tire is getting low again. At this point, I can’t definitively say that Lisa didn’t say Fudge.
I removed the brand new tire pressure monitor from the inner right rear tire and we took off for Tahoe. I was certain this was the issue because this tire had always held pressure and the only thing that had changed was this stupid gadget I just had to have.
Here we go again, off on our adventure. I must say, however, I was a bit nervous about the rest of the tires and Lisa kept reminding me that the tires were a really important part of the van and we should be mindful of the pressure.
About halfway to Tahoe, I noticed the inner left rear tire was gradually losing pressure. “Fudge,” I said (Only I didn’t say Fudge). It was a slow leak so we soldiered on since I didn’t want to miss that tee time. As we got closer with my attention divided between the road and that stupid tire pressure monitor, I felt a sense of relief. The tire would hold enough pressure to make it.
We arrived at the Frandsens. Mike met us in the driveway, grabbed my clubs, told me Mary had made one of her signature peanut butter sandwiches for me and we needed to leave. You see, he had a new driver and needed to try it out before we teed off. I explained our entire harrowing experience. Mike didn’t care. He wanted to get to the driving range before 2:00. We all have our priorities.
The trip has been a total pleasure since. Golf was fun despite my time spent looking for lost balls. We drove to Salt Lake City the next day where I got to hug my sister Vicki for the first time since the pandemic began. She took us on a beautiful hike and we had quality time to catch up. And, here we are now in Boulder, Colorado, our home away from home.
Our travels will take us to goat farms in Nebraska and wineries in Iowa (?!?) before our two-week stay at Winona Lake, Indiana. We return through Wisconsin, Minnesota and then to the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota. We’ll even visit my old high school near Rapid City.
After our travels last year, Lisa and I didn’t think we would write a blog on this year’s trip. After all, we are experts now and nothing exciting will be worth writing about. The first hour of our trip humbled us and we decided writing about the trip will be fun and may give you something worth reading. So, join us along the way as we have adventures, misadventures, and, hopefully, experiences worth remembering.
Lisa and Brad's Travels 