Dear John, Week 5
Dear John,
Maybe this week I will write you a letter without crying….. but probably not.
Who knows… I’ll give it a try.
So, today marks the end of week five. It’s gone by pretty quickly, and I’m almost to the half-way point. On day 35 of your hospital stay, we were making the long, painful drive home from Rochester, MN. You were discharged from your third hospital stay and we had an appointment at the Mayo Clinic in just four days. You were on morphine for the pain, and you handled the trip home pretty well. We were so excited to go home and we were determined that this time would be without any difficulties. It was a five hour drive home, and we noticed you slowly wither as each hour tapped your energy supply. You woke up and enjoyed driving along the bluffs of the Upper Mississippi River. Nature, it’s something both you and I have always loved. We both said that we wanted to come back to the area and camp some day.
Like most of your times at home, things didn’t go well and three days later we were making the same trip in reverse, back to the Mayo Clinic, but with a stop at the Emergency Room because you were having fevers again. You would then be admitted and we would go through the scariest and lengthiest hospitalization of all.
On day 35 of ny trip, I became even more aware of your presence. I’ve noticed you here many times, quietly telling me that you are happy I’m doing this. Yelling at the girls to give me some peace and quiet, and telling me to make sure that I slow down. Not that I’m driving fast, mind you.. But to slow down and just let things happen. I’ve been working on that, as you know.
The past two days have really shown me that you have your hand in things regarding this trip and that you are taking care of all of your girls. There is no denying it. I’ve met so many people, kind people, who listen to my story and share their own, which I love to hear. I met a great German family while we were at the
RV Park near Sequoia. They had three children and they were all swimming in the pool together. I knew enough German, as always, to understand most of what they were saying, and when I was confused I leaned over to ask you, “What does ….. Mean?” Only you weren’t there. And then I started to cry. I’m sure they thought I was a complete fool, so why not make matters even worse and tell them my story, right? I asked them where they were from in Germany, and they were from Heidelberg.
Remember Heidelberg? I took you there on our honeymoon as part of our tour of Germany. I showed you where I played a concert with the Sheboygan Symphony and you loved the towers along the river.
And you loved the beer and wursts and desserts. Anyway, the German family was so sweet to see, playing together in the pool, just normal. It reminded me of us with our kids.. Messing around and just enjoying some time in the pool together. As a whole family.
The next day I met Leigh. The littles had spent the afternoon filling water balloons and had no one to play with. I saw some little girls running around while I was doing laundry so the littles invited them to play with the water balloons. While they did, I talked with their mother, who was on a 5 week trip to Banff, starting from Colorado. She was travelling with her husband, their three daughters, her mother-in-law, and their two dogs. Talking with her was so easy and fun, kind of like talking to a long lost cousin. We were invited to their campfire that night and I talked about my plans. “You are travelling without reservations?” they asked me. This always seems to surprise people, but seriously, in order to have the flexibility of changing my plans at a moment’s notice (which I’ve done three times already), reservations would have just made me more stressed!
“You’re going to Zion… on a weekend… without reservations?”
“Yep. I have a few backup plans. Worst case scenario… BLM land for free, but I’m worried about the heat without electricity.”
They wished me well, probably thinking I would end up frying in the desert somewhere along a highway! And to be honest, I was starting to fear the same thing. I had spent quite a bit of time talking with Leigh’s mother-in-law. She lost her husband 11 years ago. He had cancer, diabetes, and heart issues. Sound familiar? She talked about how hard it is to get up each day, to just get up. She knew that I understood. That’s another reason that I’m doing this trip, to force myself to just get up. For you.
I pulled into Las Vegas, also without reservations, on a Friday night. A couple of phone calls and BINGO! Both places I called had openings. I pulled into the gated RV Park and waited to register. While I waited, I met a couple who are full time RVers’ They were towing a fifth wheel with their truck (white of course… is there a law saying that all tow vehicles must be white? I’m starting to think that there is!) and they had taken the same route that I did.
“How did you like that 16 mile incline without AC?” I asked them. CeeCee had made it up the hill at about 60mph with the gas pedal down all the way.
The temperature gauge never budged…. I roasted inside without AC, but we made it up the hill and managed to actually pass a few semis doing it! CeeCee was praised and given a complimentary pat on the dashboard when she reached the summit.
“Oh, man!” the husband said, “we went up that and had to pull over at least three times to let the engine cool. We only went 10mph for most of it. It’s been a terrible day. We overheated in California several times and the temperature gauges on the tires told us that the tires were about to blow, too. What should have been a 4 hour drive has taken us nearly 11,” he said, clearly exasperated. That was exactly my fear! How on earth had CeeCee managed to do so well? Their truck was new, they’ve been driving this area forever, they know what they are doing. I hopped into this 8 year old motorhome and just started driving. Clueless. She was late for an oil change, and she just pulled us right up the hill!
The couple was supposed to leave for Zion in the morning, but they were afraid to drive in the heat again and decided to take a day to get their tires and their truck looked at. I got up this morning…. and….. drove in the heat and up some more hills! Yesterday, I tried, once again, to get CeeCee’s oil changed. I could hear you, in my head, yelling that I always let it go too long. I had just completed 6000 miles while we were heading up that 16 mile incline. In my defense, and Alicia will back me up on this, I tried to schedule an oil change at 4000 miles when we were in Chico. Both places that could do it were booked for a week. So I moved on. I asked a facebook friend who drives a semi where I could get one done. He recommended a TA or PETRO truck stop, so I stopped at a PETRO in Las Vegas. They only worked on semis, they told me and sent me 10 miles back to another place they were sure would take me. That place only worked on diesel engines. A man in the waiting room overheard me and asked if I had a class A or a class C motorhome. I told him, a C and he suggested either Jiiffy Lube or a Ford dealership, as the truck chassis is a Ford. But, he warned, the Ford dealership would probably charge a lot more. I called two Jiffy Lubes nearby. One didn’t answer and the other one said that I wouldn’t fit into their bay, but that I should try Camping World. I was done. I went to the RV Park and did some research. There was a Camping World on my way to Zion, so I called them this morning before leaving. They said someone would call me back. No one ever did. I drove directly to the Camping World, and just like always… they made me hate them.
“Go to the service door,” the lady told me. She was the same one who had transferred me twice to the service department in the morning. I had told her that not one bothered to call me back. “If they can’t help you, because they are closed on Saturdays, come back here and I have some other ideas,” she said, looking guilty.
Closed on Saturdays? The sign on the service door said the hours for Saturday were 9am to 1pm. It was now 1:15pm, but I lost an hour by crossing from the Pacific Time Zone to the Mountain Time Zone between Las Vegas and St. George, so for me it was still before closing. Plus, there were people working inside and RVs lined up to be worked on. The man, like most Camping World people we have ever dealt with, was rude and dishonest. “We’re closed today,” he said after I told him what I needed and that I had left a message on his machine several hours earlier that no one had returned.”
“But the hours on the sign say you are open on Saturdays until 1pm. I just came from Las Vegas where it is an hour earlier, so I lost an hour. And clearly you are working on RVs today,” I said, pointing to the service man who was looking for tools with greasy, black, hard working hands.
The guy was clearly not pleased with my comment, “We came in special today, and this worker doesn’t do oil changes. Sorry. You can come back on Monday and we can take care of you,” he said with a twinge of irritation in his voice.
“I’ll be three states away by then.” I said, turned around and muttered just loud enough so he could hear me, but not understand that I said how odd it was that a serviceman couldn’t do oil changes.
I went back to the lady, who looked very sorry for having had a hand in my failure, and a salesman kept peeking at me as I complained about having spent a week trying to get an oil change on a rig that I bought from a Camping World. I spun on my heel, stormed out of there and decided to go and make a fool of myself 500 feet away at the Ford dealership that looked pretty swanky.
I walked up to the serviceman, and started with, “Please don’t laugh at me for my question, but my motorhome needed an oil change 3000 miles ago and I was wondering if you could do it? It’s a Ford chassis.”
“Sure! Can I see it to make sure it will fit into our bay?”
What? I thought. You’ll help me? Finally? A dealership that had nothing to do with the purchase of any vehicle that looks like CeeCee? I wanted to kiss him. He seemed to sense this and moved further from me as I walked with him over to the doors so he could get CeeCee’s measurements.
An hour later we were back on the road, and I swear that CeeCee was kicking up her heels in delight as she drove through 105F temps and up hills. Then we pulled into Springdale, UT, the gateway town for Zion National Park. I had called the campground while CeeCee was getting her spa treatment and they had 3 sites left as first come-first served. That was at 1pm. It was now almost 5:00pm. I pulled in and went inside. They had one site left… but after looking more closely I think that they actually had three still. No matter what… I got into the closest RV Park to Zion on a Saturday in June WITHOUT a reservation. Yeah.. I’m bragging.
The girls went off and made friends again. I went over to meet their mother, who has lived in the RV Park while workamping for the past two summers. The littles had shared our story with her. She was amazed, and thought it was so healing and wonderful that we were doing this trip. She said she was sure that you were with us bringing us good luck, and then I told her that we had pulled in without a reservation.
“You pulled in TONIGHT? Without a reservation?” She said, clearly shocked. “That’s impossible! This place never has an available site on a weekend once the season starts. I think your husband had his hand in this.”
I agreed.
In Kansas City I got burnt ends several hours after 2pm, and there was no line. Unheard of.
In Oregon, we learned about the most amazing beach with tide pools from overhearing strangers talking about it, otherwise we would never have gone there. Unheard of.
In Washington, I just happened to stay in a town that offered shuttle service to Seattle, a place I was afraid to bring CeeCee. Unheard of.
In Mariposa, there was a wildfire 15 miles from our campground, and winds blew it in the other direction.
In Sequoia, I met some great people that made me feel more strongly than ever before that there are more good people in the world than anyone realizes.
Heading to Las Vegas, CeeCee motored up the hills in the heat and kept going and going and going, while I passed many broken down, overheated vehicles an met that couple that had nothing but problems all day
A man just randomly gave me advice at the truck stop. Advice that I would never have thought of myself. Advice that turned out to be the only option that worked. Unheard of. .
When I ask a dealership, the last possible chance I have of getting an oil change for another 1000 miles at least, and no one would help me for weeks before, the man looks at me and easily says, “Sure, we can do that,” like it’s no big deal. Unheard of.
I pull into one of the most desirable campgrounds in the Zion area on a Saturday in June without a reservation and there is a site for me. Unheard of.
Tomorrow, we go on a great hike and then we’ve been invited for dinner by the family we just met. I’m feeling well taken care of. Many people tell me that you are with me, guiding me, taking care of me, and blazing a trail for me to follow.
They didn’t need to tell me that. I knew it all along.
Until next week,
Love you forever,
Your fiddler
June 23, 2018
Day 35 of 83
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