Low Income Motel Travels

This piece continues my recent cross-country trip from New Jersey to Oregon.  My rental van was filled with much of my worldly possessions, stored for decades at Mom's and later a storage facility.  I was opting for motel rooms in order to pull the van up to the door (for easier unloading) and I succeeded; but it was a hodge-podge of establishments, many now turned into low-income housing.  Not run by a reputable non-profit or sponsored by the government, but 21st Century Slumlords.

After spending the night in  one such place west of Gettysburg, I zipped through Ohio and into Indiana. I didn't want to get too close to Chicago, so at 4pm I began searching for a place to stay.  I stopped for some cooked food at a Bob Evans in Ft Wayne, Indiana, but there weren't any motels nearby.

By 6 or so I cried, 'Uncle,' and stopped at a Mini Hilton or whatever.  The place was packed with people wearing sports memorabilia, and I wound up turning down the room offered, you can read about my snooty hotel experience in the previous post.

So I pulled back on to Rt. 30. The exits were few and farther between, so  by the time I exited at Warsaw and saw a Red Roof Inn, I gratefully pulled in.

It was dark by then.  The owner, I presumed, asked if I'd be staying a week.  "No, just the night."  $45 cash; $50 card.  He was polite but not too, and said my room would be at the end, on the ground floor, as requested.  As I drove through the parking lot I saw a few people standing around smoking and talking; a woman walking her dog; a grill-on-wheels in an empty parking space.

I located my room; said hello to the woman who eyed me warily; finished my 5 trips back and forth with luggage and artwork; and immediately jumped in the shower.  Plumbing didn't look great but the water was hot. Once again, it wasn't until after I emerged did I take note of the room.

(To recap: my previous night's hotel room wasn't too great so I opted to sleep fully-clothed on top of the bedspread, on MY Walmart pillow, bathroom light on to keep the bugs away, and wore an eye mask to sleep.  I'd figured any place would have to be better, but I was wrong...)

First was the door, with more locks than I've seen on any door.  I don't know how to describe what you see here - a picture's worth...

Back away from the door and the carpet stain is front-and-center.

Well, at least there's a microwave and fridge.  I tote my own instant coffee, creamer and mug so a microwave is appreciated; and also a fridge for whatever I've picked up during the day which I couldn't finish.

OMG...a surprise, that's all.

I looked at the bed (below) with its corpse-like made bedspread.  I gingerly pulled it down.

Of course there's no sheet - it's up at the window.   Nice ceiling.  Not quite exhausted but still pretty drained, I propped my pillow against the headboard, lay on top of the bedspread and began to watch TV. 

It's alright, I can do this again.  No one need know what I'm willing to accept.

All told I'd been inside about an hour when I heard the "Drrrrii-drrrii-drrrii" of fingers strumming on my door.  Jesus Christ, you've got to be kidding!  I got up, peeked behind the sheet, and through the wall asked the fellow standing outside my door, "Yeees??"

"You left your back door open," the man said and sure enough, the tailgate of the van was wide open, like my mouth.

"Thanks - I'll be right out!"

I grabbed some decent pants, and as I stepped outside the following words instantly transported me back to my friends at Community First, and I mean that in the nicest way.

"We don't steal. We're not thieves."

I thanked the man, said I never thought anything of the kind, then explained how tired I felt.  Must have forgotten to press the button to close the door.  I went to the back of the van and nothing was touched.  I wasn't surprised so much as astonished at how careless I'd been.

"We don't do that," someone else added as I walked over to the small group which had gathered.  The first man explained he'd noticed the back of the van open but kept expecting someone to return.  He finally asked the owner, who said it was mine.

A pretty scene along the drive

"I work here; I live next door," he said.  I said I was only staying the night.  "I'll clean the room when you leave," he cordially added, and I kept smart remarks to myself.  I described Community First a little, not really explaining my role there; but I was humbled by their words and wanted them to believe I was sympathetic to their plight (lack of low-income housing) rather than those with little tolerance, like our leaders and much of society.

Back inside, I wondered: If I'd stayed at that spendy hotel and left the back wide open, would I have had similar results?  I wouldn't bet on it. When I've told this story to people, the general reaction has been complete shock, not just surprise.  It's like anything else:  the few give the group a bad name.  That needs to change.

Poor people have ethics.  Poor people deserve nice things, too.  And rich people can destroy property just as easily as poor people, look at P. Diddy in today's news or an episode of Below Deck. Why are we still judging people based on finances and not character?  I don't know about you, but I'm sick of hearing about the ga-zillions the Presidential family, et al, are accumulating on a daily basis.  How dare they tout crypto-dinners and exclusive club memberships while laying people off and cutting benefits for others.  Is that OK with you?

I estimated what the people in that motel were paying to live there full time.  Even if it's only the equivalent of $25 a night, I figure they're charging $150-$175 a week or $600-$700 a month, unless they offer a lower monthly rate.  That's about what my current RV park charges.  Granted, you still need an RV, but where are you going to find a studio for that price?  Those who can buy an RV can only afford a used, much older model, as I did.  That runs into the age-restriction policy of many parks: nothing older than 5 or 10 years.  As it is, I'm in a 2016, so next year my model's technically too old to stay here; and to stay elsewhere decent I'd have to buy a newer RV, ouch!

I should have asked the owner what the weekly rate was when he asked.  Consider:  that was his first question when I walked in the office; but I did look a bit bedraggled.

If I wasn't working as a Workamper in my current locale, I couldn't afford to live here long term.  Would motel-housing be my fate, too?  I noticed the busted fixture over the bathroom sink.  No, no, that's too horrible to imagine.

Once again I pulled out my eye mask, kept the bathroom light AND the TV on, and slept fully clothed on top of the bedspread.

I've got to take pictures and show people; to hell with my ego.  People drive past these motels without a thought to conditions or those who live there.  If they do it's usually disparaging, even from self-proclaimed 'Christians'.  Why should we, you ask?  

It's the humane attitude.  For the same reason you have compassion for the handicapped, and abused animals.  Most times, homelessness is a result of one blow too many, and often follows a break with family.  Some people can't recover, certainly not alone, and so it's not surprising many turn to drugs for SOME form of escape.  Be thankful if you've not broken; but try not to be so harsh towards those who have.  (We) are someone's daughter, son, sibling, grandparent, friend.

I love stopping at small cafes, and the Sunset Cafe at the crossroads of Rt 30 and Rt 52 in Illinois did not disappoint (best sausage links ever).  Besides being hungry, I wanted to pause and celebrate maneuvering around Chicago with only one wrong turn (I escaped the motel room at 5:30 am).  

City traffic quickly became a distant memory as I continued on Rt 30.  I know many people couldn't imagine traveling on a road so seemingly deserted, but I love it.  Very relaxing drive, mostly.

Rt 30 crosses the Mississippi River at Clinton, Iowa. I went through Cedar Rapids and pulled off at Ames, north of Des Moines, mid-afternoon.  I figured I'd begin my search early.

Turned out the exit had hotels, motels, shopping malls, stores, restaurants and fast food of every kind.  I drove in the far-right lane of a 4-lane road and spied a Walmart - a good indicator there's cheap lodging nearby.

I stumbled upon the Ames Motor Lodge, Cheapest Rates in Town, on a side street.  It was mid-week but there was lots of traffic on the main road (I kept forgetting it was Easter Week) and they only had one room available.

"May I see it, please?" I asked the jovial man behind the desk, who I learned was the owner. 

"Why sure, if you like," but as we got to talking I decided to take another chance and lock it in, $57.20 with $100 deposit.  So I spent the night in what turned out to be first motel in Ames (1926) and the longest running motel in Iowa. From the Ames History Museum:

NEW TOURIST CAMP WILL BE OPENED HERE

"A tourist court where a traveler can find hotel accommodations in a home-like atmosphere is nearing completion on East Lincoln way.  When completed, Ames will be equipped with one of the most modern and up-to-date tourist parks along Lincoln highway."

The Lincoln Highway, the first transcontinental highway, became known as Route 30 in 1928; here's an interesting history from the Federal Highway Adminstration.

As I say, I knew nothing about this place but instantly recognized the layout of a real old-style motor lodge. Once inside the room, directly opposite the door is a kitchen cabinet with sink and a mirror; fridge and microwave; small table and chairs; and wall-mounted TV. To the left were 2 double beds with nightstand between; and the bathroom, no sink in there.  It was odd-looking but at least it was clean, except for something sticky on the table I couldn't get off.

I turned down the bedspread with dread but was delighted to find clean sheets and a blanket.  I even felt comfortable enough to turn off the lights.  The TV didn't work but I had a tablet, and after dinner and a movie I looked forward to a good night sleep.  I didn't need to wear my eye mask, but a woman in the next room was hacking and wheezing like she was dying, so I pulled out the earplugs I'd packed.  

The park was full but quiet (except for my neighbor), and it seemed to house a mix of low-wage workers, Social Security retirees and cheap travelers like me. The room was simple but clean, and after a good night's sleep I felt like my overnight accommodations seemed to be looking up.

Previously:  Cross Country Without Google Maps

Coming soon:  Steaks, Blizzards and KFC