I Don't Know Where I'm Going but I'm On My Way

It’s Day 2 of our journey and my RV and I are still vertical.  God is good. This is not a day-to-day, drone on and on about the esoteric beauty of this-or-that; although that’s certainly to be found across our nation.  I happen to feel that just like movie reviews, each person’s notion of esotericism can be quite different; and like my vision, mine has always been skewed.

At the moment I couldn’t be happier.  I’ve been driving for two days and have covered, oh, just under 500 miles. I left on Friday the 13th and despite my hustling simply could not manage to get on the road until 11:30; just in time for the lunch crowd. 

Getting out of Oregon has always been the hardest part of the trip in my mind: crawling up those mountain passes with an overloaded rig. Despite removing the previously reported 10 pounds of pants and as many other non-essentials as I could manage, I still remain at least 700 pounds overweight; and I hadn’t thrown in the water hoses, spare levelers and the outdoor lounge chair which was a gift from Sis. It’s not just any lounge chair, but that’s another story.

I prefer to drive secondary highways and biways for several reasons, but the biggie is that I don’t feel that I’m being ‘driven’ down the Interstate by other drivers; as I always do in California.  Jeez, you just can’t go fast enough for those people.  But my Winnebago handled ALL passes like a charm, and it didn’t bother me that 80% of the semis were passing me like I was standing still.  I’m a pokey driver and I can drive just as fast on those secondary highways as I can on the Interstate.  I don’t know why people are in such a rush; doesn’t make time go any slower.

In Red Bluff I jumped off I-5 and on to the old Highway 99, which is a great road.  I got turned around a bit in Chico but as long as you can see the sun how lost can you get?  Unnerved, I drove around the downtown streets until I stumbled my way back out of town, passing on a free outdoor concert and continuing on towards I-80 and the Donner Pass.

My one RV snafoo was in an attempt to find a patch of grass for BC.  I turned into the curved driveway of one closed business but hadn’t noticed there was an overhead-thing covering the entrance and driveway which was only 8 feet tall and I’m 9’6”.  Ramming my way through briefly crossed my mind but I backed out badly, jumping out of the RV to see where I was in relation to the road, back and forth, until another driver took pity and waited for me to maneuver.

California also reminded me that most of the rest of the country pumps their own gasoline; Oregon and ‘Jersey being the exceptions.

“I’m on pump #12.”

“There is no pump #12, Ma’am.  We have 1 or 2.”  At my glazed countenance she continued: “Are you on the inside or outside?”

A Walmart parking lot in Yuba City was my first overnight stop, and since it was getting late and I was tired I was very glad for their hospitality. Neighbors included a few other RVs plus one couple sleeping in the front seat of their truck; belongings piled in the back.  I felt grateful.  However, not all Walmarts are as welcoming, as I discovered in the Reno/Sparks area. Walmart's overnight parking is a great marketing tool which has unfortunately been abused by some to the detriment of the rest.

I hadn’t checked ahead since I don’t exactly know where I’m heading and when I’ll arrive.  Leaving the Reno area with no discernible towns or rest areas in sight, I exited when I read, “Last services for 57 miles” and this-here Fernley has a good thing going.  I don’t know if it's an actual town but it’s basically a haven for weary travelers like me; glad to deposit their hard-earned in various establishments (gambling, of course; food; children’s entertainment surely) on both sides of the highway, UN-like me, except in Walmart itself. 

But gods be praised, a Walmart without any nasty signs.  After ‘checking in’ at Customer Service (it’s just polite to ask to stay), BC and I spent the night out in the back 40; cool breeze flowing across the relatively empty parking lot. See, I’m so relaxed about not being rousted that I decided to write this prose.

I don't own one of those fancy phones with Apps galore and I never mind getting lost without a GPS.  I like to think that by making my brain work a bit harder I’m exercising those muscles in the same way others work their biceps.

By now I’m tired of Interstates; I’m over the worst part of the Rockies; and I’ve had two days to see which of my belongings have stayed put and which have not.  I’ve also started tossing things (figuratively) along the side of the road like the Pioneers.

So, incommunicado, BC and I are thriving and well. As my favorite childhood poster proclaimed, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.”