Bruce, Oregon to Schulenburg
We left Schulenburg feeling the need to stay and help Arleen with brother Bruce and the farm. But, not having seen Jimmy, Shenda, Auston, Kynwyn, and Brian since Ellen’s wedding, we were compelled toward California. After California, Oregon and adding about 5000 miles on the motorhome speedometer, we have come full circle back in Schulenburg. It was not exactly our dream trip. Of course, it was great visiting the kids. Jimmy talks of being financially able to take an early retirement someday, Shenda continues to wow the scientific/teaching community, Auston loves to read books, and Kynwyn can entertain herself for hours on the Macintosh which she shares with Auston. Brian’s roommate is buying a home which may force Brian to do the same. As you have guessed by now, our children, their spouses, and grandchildren are all beautiful, intelligent, and rich. But, back to the trip, it was a much harder drive than we like. We generally like to drive a couple of hours, then stop and explore for a few days. On this particular trip, we drove almost every day except when we were at Jimmy’s or Brian’s. On the drive back from Oregon we drove 5 long days.
In the back of our minds was the thought that Bruce was very unhappy at the nursing home in Schulenburg. This concern was quickly put to rest when we received the even more devastating news that he had inoperable cancer of the pancreas. Since he was unable to eat or hold food down, it seemed certain that he would not live very long and California was very far from Texas.
But, we had another goal this summer - we intended to buy a Honda CRV in Oregon where there is no sales tax. We began checking on the price of flights back to Texas and were amazed at the high costs of tickets, motels, car rentals, etc. So we decided that since Bruce has been active and healthy all his life, he would probably not die easily or quickly. Maybe we had time to drive to Oregon, buy a car and then drive back to Texas. If we received the bad news out in the great American desert, we might miss the funeral. But, what the heck - I despise funerals anyway. Admitting this to Ellen on the phone, she was horrified. “Failure to attend the funeral is not an option” she informed me. “It is also a great chance to visit with your family,” she said. Having been sternly rebuked, I could only manage a meek, and slightly insincere, OK. Suddenly, I had visions of losing control of my life as my health declines in old age. One day, Ellen will appear and say “Daddy, living at home is no longer an option, we have made arrangements for you to move to the nursing home - for your own good. It is a very nice place ....”
We landed in Bend, OR where some friends, the Jennings, now live after retiring from A&M. Twenty miles north-west of Bend we found an RV park complete with overnight telephone hookups and we began the search for a Honda. We wanted a grey one to match the color of the motorhome. But, after calling every Honda dealer in Oregon, the only car available was a green one and it could be sold at any time before we had a chance to see it. Honda salesmen all over the state had the same story; “when we receive a shipment of CRVs they are often all sold the same day they arrive.” The importance of having color-coordinated vehicles was quickly demoted on our list of priorities. But, we checked the green color to see if it matched the green stripe on the motorhome anyway. Not a perfect match, but what the heck, reverse snobbery is fashionable in some circles. The brakes on the motorhome were given a severe testing as we crossed the Cascade Mountains and dropped several thousand feeds into the Willamette Valley.
We were pleased that the green CRV was still available when we arrived in Corvallis. We took it for a drive, fell “in love” with it, got a reasonable trade-in value for our old Suzuki, signed the papers, wrote a hot check, and left town. We did not know that the check was hot till the next day when Pat found the error. A quick call to Fidelity Investments and a quick electronic transfer of funds kept us out of jail. It did not occur to me till later that they may hang both horse thieves and hot check writers in Oregon.
Having read a review article about the CRV assured us that tow-bars and attachments were readily available. However, because these vehicles are in great demand by motorhomers, a base-plate attachment was on back-order and would not be available for over 20 days. Fearing that Bruce would not last 20 days, we decided to rent a U-Haul trailer for the car to be pulled by the motorhome. But, it was Sunday and none of the U-Hauls were open so we decided that we could drive both the motorhome and the CRV separately till we could find an open U-Haul dealer. We were facing a 2200 mile journey, starting up the Colombia River Gorge on I84, the old Oregon Trail. Our mini-wagon train was running in the opposite direction taken by the early settlers. Books On Tape kept us entertained as we kept rolling through The Dalles, Pendleton, and LaGrande. Irrigated fields of potatoes and alfalfa in Western Oregon produce very large, fat insects that leave yellow globs of insect fat on our windshields. Remembering the trite old expression that “they won’t have the guts to do that again” I realize that we have been murdering these poor defenseless bugs by the thousands without a hint of conscience. Maybe, if we slowed down, we would kill fewer of them. Then, using a rationale similar to that probably used by Hitler and Genghis Kahn, I reasoned that as long as I was killing a few, what is the difference if I kill a few more. The speedometer remained at 65 mph.
In the rearview mirror, I watched Pat and the Honda to make sure they were not left at a red light or filling station. Pat is an excellent driver and kept the CRV tucked in behind the RV at a safe distance but close enough so that when I forgot to flick off the turn signal, she could flash her lights to signal any error of my ways. The drive through Utah, Colorado and New Mexico was fairly uneventful except for frequent stops at roadside parks for planning sessions and meals. Nobody in Salt Lake City had any trailers for hauling automobiles so Pat kept on driving. When we tired of traveling, we stopped at convenient RV parks for the night.
Leaving Lubbock, the dials and gauges on the dash of the motorhome began to fluctuate wildly and the diesel engine died. I pulled off to the side of the highway to minimize the risk of being smashed by passing 16 wheelers, turned the key, and the diesel engine started up - no problem. Rolling down the highway, outside temperature 95F turned on the air conditioner, and it died again. Drove for a couple of hours to Abilene where the mechanic at the Freightliner Truck Shop cleaned the battery terminals and pronounced the problem solved. It proved a partial fix, but we were able to limp on to Schulenburg where I hope the problem will go away. But, to help along the natural healing process that motorhomes go through, I will provide some assistance by cleaning the alternator terminals and such.
Now we are parked on Bruce’s Pecan Farm under the shade of live oak, a post oak, and some yaupon trees. The temperature outside is in the low 90's so the air conditioner works almost full time to keep us cool. We had expected to spend the summer in and about Glacier National Park where blankets would be required every night. Instead, we are back in “good old Texas”.
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