Volvo OPINIONS Forum

By this pooint in time I was seriously ready to get home. Enough adventures for this trip. After being given the bag of blueberries from Nancy the woman who makes the rugs, and being told a Kentucky joke,

"Why don't people in Kentucky have ice?"

The old lady with the recipe died.

I was on my way. I was hoping to be back home by Monday afternoon. I pushed on, driving at 60 to 65 when roads and the caravan permitted. I crossed into Illinois at Kentland at around 10:30 pm. There was no moon to speak of. The cloud cover was thick.

As soon as I crossed over into Illinois, I got lost. Of all the places I have been driving, actually of all the places I have driven in my *life*, Illinois signage is the worst. Whereas even the south had the names or numbers of their smallest county and town roads clearly marked, Illinois did not. It was late at night, and very dark. I was hopelessly lost, or at least I couldn't find the roads I had marked on my map as my route. My AAA map has the number of the county or township road marked. In illinois, the roads are named, sometimes with the name of some tiny town down the line, or some other name. If youi don't scrutinize the map very carefully and note all the tiny hamlets on a road, you won't even begin to be albe to guess if the road you are on is, say, Malta Road or not. Add to that the fact in this rural part of Illinois, the road intersections are few and far betweenx, and generally I say no signs except at intersections, and sometimes not even there.

I resorted to navigaation by compass. I have one of those big old liquid filled compasses that usually lives in the 122. It sits loose on the dash of the Caprice. I figured as long as I drove either west or northwest, I would run into some road I recognized from the map eventually. In the meantime, I drove through some magical areas. I was on a two lane road that was hardly even that. It was almost 11:00 pm, and I had just crossed into Illinois. Tall 7' high standing corn hemmed me in on either side. My highbeams lit the sides of the corn, making it look like inpenitrable thick green walls of a fortress hemming me in, with this narrow staight tunnel or moat I had to proceed through. The sky was a dull, leaden grey. There were no stars; at least in the sky. They had all fallen to earth in the guise of fireflies. Thousands upon thousands of them lighting the walls of the corn, the road, everywhere. One of those sights in your life that stays with you until you die. A moment out of time. There was not much in the way of sound; just an occasional call of a Killdeer in the night darkness and the very quiet hum of the 307 which seemed grateful to be towing my trailer on flat midwestern roads.

After switching back and forth and finally picking up the road I had marked, I puled into Coal City, Illinois, found a gas station, parked, and went into Tornado Bait and slept. I was exhausted. I awoke at about 5:00 am by newspapers beign delivered to the station, which had closed since I fell asleep. I fired up the Caprice and drove on.

By this time I was within range with my cell phone where I was not beign charged roaming rates. I called several people, the folks that were taking care of my animals and let them know I would be home that day. Little did I know there was one more "adventure". In the meantime, I stopped and shot a 8x10" pinhole photo as the sun came up. I hit the toll road south of Beloit. I haven't grown up with toll roads, and I consider them an affront. Still, I paid up. No choice in the matter. I cruised into Wisconsin. Almost home, but still a ways to go. I proceeded north of 90/94. After a while 94 splits off and heads northwest and eventually goes through the Twin Cities, but before it gets there it goes past the Wisconsin Dells, with all the Tommy Bartlett show signs and more littereing the landscape. I was just at the Wisconsin Dells exits whenI heard what I thought was the tarp on top of the trailer rattling. I slowed down, pulled off on a ramp, and checked things out. Still tight on top, and covering the hinge. I swear I heard something.

I got back on the road and proceeded. I smelled rubber and someone honked and pointed simultaneously. I had blown a tire on the trailer. I pulled over on the inadequate shoulder. Shit. It was the outboard tire, too. I did have a spare, though. Not safe to change a tire, and I was wearing the last shread of clothing that was even remotely clean, a loose fitting rayon dress, trying to beat the heat. I decided to be a "girl" and call AAA again.

I first called 911 and got the Wisconsin State Patrol and let them know of my situation. I figured a squad should be behind the vehicle to divert traffic no matter who changed the tire. Every car or truck that passed me passed with a "whoosh" and rocked the trailer in a sickening way. The tire was in shreads. I must have driven on it for a while. I certainly did not feel it. The rim looks all right.

In a way, I was glad this happened. I have been always really nervous as to how the trailer would handle if I got a flat on the freeway. Now I know. I am sure if I werre driving the 145 I would have felt the flat immediately, and there would have been some serious jerking in the steering wheel.

The dispatcher said that he would save me some time and call AAA for me. I felt stupid in that I could see an exit ahead of me but could not discern the number of name of the exit. It was one of the exits for the Wisconsin Dells, but there are quite a few. Couldn't see anymile markers either. I could see a BP sign peeking out beyone the trees at the exit, and I know I just crossed a lake. That was enough for the dispatcher. He pinpointed my location and
said he would end a squad to divert traffic and call AAA for me. Good. All I need to do was wait. Sure wished I had used that bathroom at the last petrol stop when I had my chance.

On the way back I had made frequent stops at Mc Donald's The huge size of iced tea became my friend. It was cold and cheap, at $1.30; with a slice of lemon it was the nectar of the Gods in the heat and humidity of a car without AC in the midwest. Unfortunately, what goes in has to come out. Traveling is theone time I have penis envy. I can tough it out.

After a few minutes, I saw a State Patrol officer coming up to my car in the rear view mirror. Good. The dispatcher got someone to divert traffic. But this was not an officer friendly, this was a cop with attitude. A bull. He approached with a scowl, peering into my trailer as he approached my car. He gruffly asked me what I was doing there, as if the shredded tire on the trailer wasnot self evident. I asked him if the dispatcher sent him. He grew even more agressive. He hadn't been called. He just happened on me. I told him I had a flat and that I had called the dispatcher and he had said that he was ending out AAA and a squad. The cop snarled "there is a big difference between calling the cops and AAA." I assured him that the dispatcher was doing it for me. This guy was very surly. he told me to stay right there, that he was going to make some calls and do some checking. Where did he think I was going to go with a trailer with a flat tire hitched to my car any way?

When he came back, after I am sure running my plates and everything else through every database possible, his attitude had adjusted a bit. He said he would stay until AAA came, unless he got another call. Fine. Still, so different from the Indiana State Patrol who were so nice to me on the way out to Penland.

We waited an hour, I in the Caprice and he in his squad 30 yards behind. I had finished my book. Time dripped on. I got out my tools and got the spare loose and rolled it over to the back of the trailer. I sat on the 6x6" posts that were drilled to allow cable to be run through them. They formed the guard rail on this part of 94. I got bored and went back to the car, deciding to call some folks and talk. I was just dialing up someone, when the cop came back again. It seems that someone had cancelled the AAA call, saying I was off the road. Since I was in the act of dialing my phone, he felt sure it was me, and asked me several times if I had, indeed done that. Like I enjoy sitting in a hazardous spot on the road with a flat tire. AAA was once agin called, and we waited some more.

Finally AAA came. He backed up the car a trailer a bit and got the flat changed quicker than I could do with my little bottle jack. The spare was almost flat, but had enough air to get to the next offramp and inflate it porperly. the cop drove off with a wave of his hand, and I limped off to a gas station where I wasoutraged to see they charged for air. I am not buying gas at BP any more. .50 for 3 minutes.

When I was sitting along side the road I called my neighbors and told them I would be home that night. Not as early as I had planned, but still, barring any unforseen situations.......My neighbor told me about a great chees shopat Black River Falls oasis. I stopped in figuring perhaps I could find something for them there. I got some 7 year old *VERY* sharp cheddar for them, and a block for Rob the Mechanic, who was a total angel on the whole trip, providing phone support when I needed it; telling me what a waterpump should cost, so I could make sure I wasn't being ripped off, and just a person to chat with when I saw something cool, like the cornfield at night. I also had my FIRST ESPRESSO IN THREE WEEKS! I got a depth charge, a double shot with freench roast coffee. Penland's espresso machine was broken at their coffee house, and although I have one of those little Italian aluminum stove tope jobbies I use when on the road, it isn't the same. Also bought some jalapeno cheese curds for the last leg home.

I crossed over nto Minnesota at Stillwater, then hit the horrendous freeways of the MInneapolis/St. Paul Metro area. Narrow lanes, and lots of construction, with concrete barriers right up against the lanes, and no shoulders. Fun right to the end.

I got off the freeway, and into my neighborhood. I remember on the trip home,
from Maine 2 years ago,my 122 broke 3 blocks from my house. the circlip holding the clutch pedal came loose, and the pedal just flopped around. I was bad and just jammed it into first and drove the last 3 blocks. This time, I got home without incident. The yard was in riotous bloom of summer flowers. The red geraniums in the pots of the doorsteps were in bloom. the cats were standing withtheir paw on the glass of the front door looking out at me as I came up the walk

I was home.



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Sensual Ascetic. Three Volvos. Average age 37 years. No damn cupholders. Good wine.