Mayberry meets Seattle

I love my neighborhood. I really do. It's amazing. Okay the first day we discovered this neighborhood there was a jazz concert on the Greenway. There were families and couples, while kids played on the grass. Then we met the area cheerleader who immediately connected us Holly, who led to Karin - our gracious landlady. Holly told stories of "porch parties" that various people in the neighborhood host in the warmer months.

On Sunday the 14th we did the Rehabarama with TGF's 'Rents. Earlier, before we were there, there was live broadcast of a radio program, "Breakfast with the Bealtes" at the gazebo on the Greenway.Totally fun, all the "hosts" at the houses were friendly - most our future neighbors. At one house we ran into Lisa, whom we had met the previous week when Holly was showing us the project houses. She remembered us, asked how our search was going, and hugged TGF when she found out she volunteered to help get a house ready.

Last week I received a phone message from Lisa inviting us to some gathering on November 10th. We have only lived in the neighborhood for about two weeks and we have an invitation already! Finally Lisa and i connect on the phone a day or two later. Apparently "the ladies" have a monthly gathering (maybe dinner? the details are fuzzy right now) and this is a special one in that "we" are being hosted by Brett and Josh. There is nothing for us to bring - there will be martinis and hors d'oeuvres served. She also wanted to let me know that "the ladies" meet over at the Tavern on Fridays, after about 7 or 8pm every week.

Early this evening about 5:45pm I take Wyatt out for a walk on the Greenway before I leave for my stitch and bitch meet up at Panera's on Miller Lane. The wind is blowing, swirling leaves, making that autumn noise of crunchy leaves banging against each other, the trees and asphalt. Off in the distance I hear music and think it's coming from a car. As the sound comes across less polished I think there is a band practicing in a nearby house. The music gets louder still and I realize there is a band playing in the gazebo in this dusky light. There is a small group of folks who form the audience. I want to walk up close but Wyatt is freaked by the drums, the droning voice and the mini tornadoes of leaves every time the wind stirs up hard, so we turn around. Listening the music which really does kind of suck, I figure that all bands start out sounding pretty bad.

I have the biggest smile on my face, watching the leaves twirl in the fading light, listening to the emoting singer behind me, my dog almost running, smiling up at me. This place feels like a home in way that I don't think I've ever really had before.

Life felt so good in that moment.

I found my hidey hole

While researching the area when the topic of this move first came up I had lobbied for potentially moving to Yellow Springs. In my searches I found that the town had a street fair in October, so the idea of going there had been in my mind for months. As it turned out we were not moving that day and as a bonus Jeriann was up for adult time as Cody was doing a visit with another aunt.

Jer came by the new place so she could give us her verdict - she approved by the way. She came by while TGF was out running an errand. As we were chatting there was a knock at the door and I looked at her, shrugging. It was our next door neighbor who had just left this unit. According to Karin she moved because she needed more space due to being a pack rate. The neighbor/former tenant said she moved because there was no central air. Somewhere between those two lies reality methinks. A short time later the three of us hopped in our car and were off to Yellow Springs.

It was one of those perfect autumn day with a bright sky that seems to only happen in the month of October. The air was warm, the sun was shining and the trees were a kaleidoscope of colours. The trip was short and it delighted me that this area was so close. Skylines were open and there was rural feel that was invigorating and compelling.

The streets of the fair were crowded and the bustling didn’t bother me the way it usually does but Jeriann had a hard time with it. The stores we went into were like those one would find in Northampton or Berkeley but the setting brought New Paltz to mind more than any other town. Jeriann and I made plans to come back another time so we could browse the stores in greater comfort. We decided to head back to our neck of the woods. Hunger was getting to all of us so we decided to head “The Tavern,” a popular spot amongst South Parkers, which I guess we were on our way to being. Who should we see there but Teresa, the bartender/waiter greeted us like old timers, and it was feeling a bit like Cheers only real. Actually the waiter was hoot and a half; and the pizza was fantastic! Towards the end of our meal I noticed our new landlady, Karin, eating there as well. As we were readying to leave she noticed me and called me over to chat for a moment. This place truly has a small town feel. In a good way.

After dinner we pick up the dog and walk around the greenway. Rehabarama has begun and we are by one the houses. TGF say, go head go in; so Jer and I walk into this amazing house, immediately critiquing the choices of furniture and colour to our hearts’ content. The greeter at the house asks for our tickets and when we say “Huh”. He laughs and mentions his wife is on a dinner break. Aha! He must be Karin’s husband so I prompting introduce myself and we chat about the house. “Have you ripped out the carpeting yet?” Oh I am so happy to hear that I can do this. There is so awful blue carpeting in both bedrooms upstairs and on the stairs themselves. Of course I am hoping there will be lovely wood floor underneath but even if they are terrible it won’t be carpeting which I abhor.

It was a lovely day.

Being in the South

Taking a break from chronicling our move because this is getting silly, my need to catch up before posting what comes to mind. Besides I am now only two weeks behind life, so what.ever.

In an earlier post I believe I made reference to that fact while Ohio is technically counted as a midwest state, Dayton is the South, in my not so humble opinion. Most people have some sort of southern accent, slight to heavy, the food choices in restaurants flip between a midwest "meat and potatoes" menu and a fried chicken, hush puppies and bbq selection.

Dorothy, aka me, is no longer in her version of Kansas in this more conservative and republican state. I have never lived anywhere with so many religious radio stations. While driving across the country I certainly found many religious stations, along with country music, neither is my listening preference. I expected that, what I did not expect was the area I was moving to would also feature this so much.

Another sign of the southernly nature of the area is Cody, Jeriann's son. Quite awhile ago I became "Miss Dharma", spouse of Aunt TGF. Shortly after moving here, on his own Cody upgraded me to Aunt Dharma which warms my heart no end. Today while walking Wyatt I saw one of neighbors who I knew from our tour of Johnson Street (see previous post). She introduced me to her husband and son. Her son was prompted to stop playing with Wyatt and "Say hello to Miss Dharma". I received the statement with grace but I was laughing quite a bit inside. In point of fact I have always felt comfortable in the South and with folks from the South. TGF was constantly surprising while we were courting how much I know about Southern customs, sayings and traditions. Laughing I would tell her I was Southern in a previous life. I guess it makes sense then that I'm here, huh?

I suppose I should make a pitcher of sweet tea before my beloved comes home from work.

A place to land

Sunday I received a call from Holly who had decided we should at least take a look at 318 Morton Street, a property I had found a week earlier and we had scoped out at bit. She had it on good authority that we could get it for a real steal.

I thought the property had some potential, that we could live in it and fix it up. It wasn’t anything we would want to stay in a long time, it would be a good one to turn into a good rental versus the craptastic rental it had been, or to flip it and move onto another house. TGF was not convinced and Holly really wanted to see us in a better location. This particular block was mostly rentals, low end ones at that. The house to the right was so close my wingspan (remember I’m short) could touch both properties and it was a rental duplex with loud music pumping on a Sunday afternoon.

Holly was really excited by Rehabarama and wanted to show us some of the houses. We finally met the infamous Teresa Gaspar who was working on Little Bradford as the house had been nicknamed. This place was so freaking cute that if it was just me I would have moved right in. They had done a great job renovating this place. We also went to the big house on Johnson which had us ohhing and ahhing at every turn. Holly continued to introduce us as new South Park residents that just hadn’t found a home yet and quizzed everyone for ideas. We also met her husband, Michael, the other large force of nature working on putting South Park on the map. Since TGF’s wasn’t going to start work the next day as we had thought earlier in the week, she offered her services to help get this particular house ready as it was the most behind schedule.

That day I spoke again with Karin and made arrangements for the next day to see a duplex and a rental she had open. The duplex had been bought sight unseen and was a defensive move as it had been a horrible rental property and it backed up to her house. She and her husband had done nothing to it yet so she would be willing to sell it for what they paid for it in July - $22,000. The rental was one half of a duplex that they hadn’t done much too – a long term tenant had just moved out.

Late that night my phone rang and I saw it was my mother. I figured she forget that I was no longer three hours behind her but still it was very late her time so I picked it up. My father was in the hospital because he had collapsed –something with his heart. I no longer remember how she was contacted (they have been divorced for eons) but she told whoever it was that she would tell me. His heart wasn’t pumping right and he would need a pacemaker.

Monday morning TGF left to paint and stain while I puttered around the motel room. I tell you this place seemed like a luxury hotel after Cave 6. Even TGF who is rather, ahem, princess-like expectations about such accommodations was pleased. The phrase “how the mighty have fallen” may have been tossed about.

It was pretty early but I called the hospital to check on my father. The nurse I spoke to said he was stable and would be heading to surgery in a few hours. Though it was still early I called his girlfriend and heard the whole saga. Being outside seemed like a good idea so I took the dog for a walk. When I came back the mess bothered me so I straightened up the room. The time passed rather quickly and soon it was time to meet Karin and TGF to see about some housing. The duplex for sale, well, it was barely habitable and had no charm about it anywhere. The other one however was charming. Not only was the rent a great deal (and I mean GREAT!) but she offered that if we (read me) were willing to do the cosmetic repairs and such, the labor would be subtracted from the rent. It took all my self control not throw money at her and move in that day. We kept our cool and said we would get back to her. For me it was a no brainer, our funds were quickly disappearing and this was a score of high order. The place came with a stove, fridge, dishwasher, washer and dryer. It had a bath and a half – talk about luxury! Okay sure the half bath was also the laundry room, had the trap door to the basement in it and was the back door to the unit but damn it had two toilets! I had that once for about 1 year as an adult, a second toilet. Freaking lap of luxury for me.

(I received word from various parties that surgery had gone well.)

TGF worked again the next two days helping get that house in order for Rehabarama. On Wednesday I called Karin and said, as calmly as possibly, “we would love to rent your unit”. Also on Wednesday I went over to Books & Co to try to apply for a job. Apparently they only do online applications so I browsed the magazine racks (yes I bought a knitting magazine or two, I couldn't help it, I swear). I was assured once again that I was no longer in Kansas when I noticed there was a whole section of periodicals under the heading of “Guns”.

Thursday we signed the lease and I called utilities to get things in our name. We brought some boxes over which I quickly unpacked as much as I could. TGF contacted her mother about hiring the movers again and we tried for the soonest date possible to move in. In the end the move in date was set for Wednesday. Not as fast as I would have like but it made her feel better since she would be in Indiana at corporate training from Sunday evening until Wednesday afternoon. Just a few more days of motel life!

Circling our prey - a home

Wednesday we went to see the original house on Oak Street that brought us to this neck of the woods and to see a place on Alberta Street as well. It was a rather hurried and crazy afternoon after lounging at The ‘Rents as a break from the cave at the 6.

Oak Street is a renter’s hell, the owner clearly doesn’t care about it and the poor house needs so much TLC but had a lot of potential. We went to see it because after initially ruling it out because of the super tiny lot, I learned it came the small lot to the left of the house which made it a much more appealing property. There is an extended family set up inhabiting the house and it was a total pigsty. According to the daughter the front parlor room is the nicest room, which they kindly let us see even though it is clearly where her parents “live”. If this is what she considered the best space of the house, well, dayum! Awful fake wood paneling and a cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the space while grandma and grandpa lounging in their underwear with a table top filled with pill bottles next to the bed.

From there we went over to the next property. On the way Holly introduced us to Galen, the neighborhood cat rescuer with some of the most gorgeous cats I have ever seen. I’ve seen and had a lot of cats so that’s really saying something. Anyway, she introduced us as his “new neighbors but we just don’t know which house”. This place is just gathering us into it’s arms, you know?

Alberta was a couple's attempt at a flip and boy did they screw it up! It didn’t work out the way they wanted so they turned it into a rental. Tenants had done nothing to improve the property, which is putting it kindly. The owners had turned a closet (at least I think it was originally a closet) in the front parlor into a bathroom so they could call it a "master bedroom", one which if the lights are on at night and the bathroom door is open one can see the toilet from the street. Galen let us in on this tidbit.

In the end we decided to make an offer of Oak Street. Yeah it was a rush decision in some ways but we liked the house, saw it’s potential. Holly and others (Theresa in particular) would love to see this house rescued. In a flurry of signatures I had officially said, Yes I want this house! We asked for the owner to get back to us in 48 hours.

Friday morning we moved to a better location since the Cave 6 room was getting to us. Tiny, dark, irregular internet connection and no way to save money on food. Extended Stay Amerika offered us a much larger space, a dresser, a microwave and fridge along with consistent wireless access which was important for home searching.

Forty-eight hours, Friday afternoon, later there was no response, which surprised none of us. Holly once again said she wanted to hook us up with Karin, who she claimed knew everyone and would be a great resource. A few hours later my phone rang – it was Karin. We had a great conversation about our needs, her knowledge, and some of her properties. The connections we were making in this area were amazing and we felt unbelievably welcome and accepted. It was huge surprise to both of us. Back in August when TGF was expressing doubts about going back to Dayton and worrying over how it would feel, I promised to show her a Dayton she didn’t know existed. Barely here and I was accomplishing my mission, much to our great happiness.

The hunt begins

Monday, October 1^st rather than starting her job TGF had her “official” interview. Since we were still down to only one car and rather than potentially go stir crazy I went along for the ride and hoped for hopping on some wireless at a close by café. I wouldn’t call where I went a café, not in the Northampton or Berkeley sense of the word but there was wireless to be jumped on. Well until my battery threatened to die out since there were no outlets by any of the seating. See? Not really a café like I’m used to hanging at. Also, yes this did mean that this little interview went on for quite sometime.

In an attempt to be proactive regarding our housing situation I wrote to Maureen to double check about the brick beauty we had driven past the day before. She wrote me back while I was still researching housing and surfing the net to say the house was available. In fact she give the name of the realtor, Holly. The house was bought by Michael, Holly’s husband, because he and Theresa were key people in this rehabbing of South Park. Later I called Holly leaving a message about the brick house on Hickory that we drooled over. Maureen, the SP head cheerleader actually called Holly so she was expecting my call. Wow.

TGF finally comes around to get me, seriously over 2 hours later, maybe it was closer to 3, who remembers anymore. All sounds good. The following Monday she goes to corporate training in Indiana for a couple of days and then they will put her in Boy Wonder’s store. This is good because the opening of the Springboro store had been pushed back again but they want her working for them ASAP. We want that to since income is always a good thing. We make an appointment to see Hickory and invite TGF’s mother along.

Tuesday finally arrives and we see two rental properties in the neighborhood before going to Hickory. I feel good about doing this because motel living is getting to me and we really need to get our lives in gear. The first rental is doable and kinda cute but it’s a shared, tiny yard which puts TGF off. “What if the neighbors suck? There isn’t room for Wyatt to run, no fence.” The second, eeww! We didn’t want to touch anything even though it had be “redone” it was all so hideous and badly done that we couldn’t wait to leave but the realtor was very nice.

Finally we approach the amazing house. It’s an older brick home, two stories, on a double lot and has a garage. It’s higher than we want to pay because funds are short for a down payment and there is a question about if I could get a mortgage for that amount though the monthly payments would be totally doable. My dear friend Jennie only buys yarn that makes her heart beat faster. My heart was beating so fast walking through this property I thought I might go into cardic arrest. All the wood work on the first floor had never been painted. Never! It had a beautiful pocket door. It was huge, beyond huge – like 3000 square feet. The bones on this place was just beyond compare. However there was mold, we were all bothered by it. There was no way I could live in this house and work on it in that state. Mold remediation can be a very expensive endeavor. We knew we had to walk away from the property. Holly said that she thought Michael had bitten off more than he could handle with this one but at least they would secure it to prevent vandalism until something more could be done.

Later we met up with The 'Rents to a Rat Pack type of restaurant to celebrate my birthday. Mostly all day I forgot it was my birthday. Seriously. There was so much to adjust do, errands to run, and potential housing to look at, a thing like a birthday was just far down in priority for me. The Pine Club is one of those places with a limited, but old fashioned high end menu. Translation: lots of meat. No windows, dark wood paneling everywhere. The waitress was lively and the food was tasty (I got fish).

On the way back "home" (aka Mot*l 6) we drove by two other properties I had scouted earlier. I had already emailed Holly about these and we wanted to scope them out a bit. I was on a mission!

A forgotten tidbit

On Sunday morning before heading out to South Park we stopped over at The ‘Rents house and then onto TGF’s brother’s house where I finally got to meet our niece, T’Mane! She is just as adorable in person as her photos had indicated.

A very important thing was learned from The Brother, who is a cop, Samuels Street is the home turf of not one, but two gangs- The Ds and The 13s. Fantastic news, no? I mean that we decided to walk away not that there are gangs. Anything sound familiar about The 13s? Yeah, that was the number “Boomhauer” had tattooed on his neck. He really was a fine enough fellow, though I did have to bite my tongue when he said he refused to eat Chinese food because he didn’t like eating cats and dogs. Yep, this Dorothy is not in Kansas anymore.

Bollocks to Milton – Paradise Found

Three weeks ago, Saturday the 29^th, we found paradise – Dayton style. After two whole days of doing nothing active about finding housing I was feeling antsy, so to cope with it I mapped out 5 properties to drive by and walk around. To save time and be very organized I had plotted the route out so that there was no back tracking and we worked in a counter clockwise pattern.

Quickly we ruled out the first one or two, had some hopes for another. As we drove to the last house we noticed a lot of work going on at houses on the street. Many of the properties had signs noting “Rehabarama”. It was all looking very promising. However the property on our schedule was lacking, mostly because of limited outdoor space. We decided to keep driving round the neighborhood, one TGF had never heard of though she lived just north of here for decades. The area name you ask? Okay, promised to laugh for only 10 minutes. South Park. Yeah, yeah, I feel like I have visited with King of the Hill with Boomhauer, The Simpsons with Cletus, and now I was falling in love with historic South Park. The variety of houses was inspiring, the upkeep on many were quite good. As we circled and looped the blocks of this neighborhood another thing we noticed was a jazz concert happening on the greenway of Park Drive with a large mix of people, kids playing – just a sweet afternoon.

“I could totally live here”, I pronounced. The homes we looked at in the Belmont section where nice, truly but it felt a bit too suburban, sterile. South Park was alive with kids playing outside, cute architecture and just felt like a neighborhood where people said hello as they passed. And just like that we refocused our goals for where we wanted to live. I noted addresses with for sale signs and researched my fingers off that night. Sunday we returned, looking at one house that we saw that had some potential. Walking around it we were a little hesitant about the specific property. A bit later we met up with Jeriann to show her around and she too was delighted. We got out of the car in front of one home that clearly was out of budget but we couldn’t help but to look. As we were standing there a woman appeared and said, “Let me tell you about this house”. She told a lovely story about the house however we were really looking for something to fix up ourselves. Maureen introduced herself and told us a bunch about the neighborhood. We exchanged phone and email information – she was so friendly! Not more than 10 minutes after we left she called to tell me about another house or two we should drive by to see what we thought. Helpful and friendly. Drove by one the house was we were instantly and completely smitten, however the signs on the house did not indicate it was for sale at all.

Finally we left but we were all convinced that this was the right place for us.

Interrupting the saga for a giggle

So I decided to actually look at my blog's statistics since they have picked up a bit since I haven't been ignoring my blog. Go figure, if you write (and get hooked up with Raverly - which I am loving) people actually stop by.

I clicked on one of the google searches, just to see and someone was searching for "louisiana sweet ass". Well damn if you wanted to know how to find my good friend Louisiana Swamp Rat, you could have just written me.

In order to try to remember enough details to make decent postings I have been jotting little notes because otherwise I tell you it would all be a blur. There are really great things since landing here I really want to tell you all about it but it takes a lot of energy to write it out. I will though, I promise!

Opening days of life in a new state

We settled into a very tiny room at the Mot*l 6. I do mean tiny, cave like even since we realized we couldn’t open the curtains because the window face on the walkway to room on the second floor.

First on the agenda was returning the Behemoth which luckily was a short drive because I seriously didn’t want to be near the thing any longer than necessary. Meeting me at the truck to check it over was a skinny, snaggle tooth guy who reminded me of Cletus Spuckler from the Simpsons. Between “Cletus” and “Boomhauer” it was rapidly becoming clear to me that Dayton really is the South though according to most maps the state of Ohio is in Midwest. We compared notes on driving over mountains, me the West, him the Appalachian variety apparently. He told me that his wife found the rises and dips nerve wrecking but his daughter loved it. According to him she wants drive trucks when she grows up. As TGF says, at least she has a goal.

Another stop was to StalMart to buy shoes as mine were still totally soaked and cold.

We also drove by the house that we decided was bite too large as well as a few others. Bascially that was the bulk of our day. We met the ‘rents for dinner, this time at Olive Garden – did I mention they like to eat out and not cook?

Hit the room early and were zombies until sleep over took us.

Friday the 28^th is a distant memory at this point but I do know we went to The Parents’ house to do laundry. I was finally going to go to their house! The two quick trips I had made to Ohio three years ago, seeing her parents on their turf was not an option in TGF’s mind. This felt like a milestone in our relationship. Her dad (he's retired, mom works) wasn’t around so we lounged and soaked in the experience of being in a house, a functional place where people actually have their belongings around them and space, the ability to be in separate rooms if we desired. For what was already feeling like an eternity we had been staying in tiny rooms only at night and here it was day light, we weren’t driving, we were sitting on real furniture and our dog could roll around on grass. It felt a bit like heaven.

In which our heroine clearly is no longer in Kansas (aka a blue state)

Wednesday (about 45 miles)

It’s a gray day but we are both jittery with excitement. We go to breakfast to get fuel for the day ahead and I call Janelee the Realtor to make plans. Even though I spoke her yesterday when she told me “Oh I can meet you at the house, you can sign the lease and I’ll give you the keys”, suddenly she was tied up until 4pm! WTF, you know? Ellie, TGF’s mom, had movers scheduled to meet us at 1pm to unload. I was so furious I couldn’t speak, really. This is after her waiting until Monday to tell us that we can’t get power on in the place without a lease because the current owner owes money, that water can’t be turned on until Thursday at the earliest. Did I mention she was a duel agent so she had all this information from the get go?

Then we headed to a Bob Evans (TGF is so happy to be back in the land of all these chain restaurants I can't even tell you!) to get food where a woman had three toddlers who took turns starting the next round of caterwauling. I thought I was going to lose my mind. TGF had to grab my hand to stop me from getting up to say something to the woman. “I wasn’t going to yell at her, clearly the woman needs help and I was going to tell her that.” Somehow that didn’t fly. When I am tired, low blood sugar or PMS I am very sensitive to sounds, that day I was all three so it was a real struggle.

Finally we hit the road, it is a gray and drizzly day. As we hit Dayton proper I am following TGF and have a sinking feeling based on way too many hours on Google maps that we are heading the wrong way. My phone rings and TGF confirms her misstep, I try not be grumpy. We agree to park the Behemoth somewhere so we can ride over in the car and scope out the best path.

As we first enter the St Anne’s Hill area I am heartened, happy even – it really is cute, a bit edgy but livable. Then we turn up Samuels Street and the happy, fluttery feeling starts to sink into a darker, worried place. The house is not set far back from the street, and I knew there were a number of properties on the block that were for sale. What I wasn’t as clear on is that they were almost all abandoned, empty buildings. TGF didn’t like that there were so many people home during the day. The place held potential but the neighborhood? Um, not so much.

Still hopeful we round up the truck, Ellie meets us at the house but by then we have made a decision to walk away from the deal. The realtor had been less than clear, withheld information, and the neighborhood would take far to long to turn around to be a good investment. We arrange for the movers, who were fortunately late, to meet us a storage facility near Ellie’s workplace. It was still raining and when we all are in the same place it becomes clear that the car dolly is not working properly so we cannot detach it, which of course we need to do in order to unload the truck into the last storage unit Mike (aka the Bear) had that was large enough for our vast quantity of stuff. Once again a call is made to Budg*t, who sends a tow out (I now have a special place in my heart for tow workers) after another hour or more wait. The car dolly definitely had problems and really I wish we could dispute the charge for the damn thing (our second one if you remember) but that would require energy.

In the meantime we converse with the movers, Justin (aka Boomhauer), John, and Matt. Boomhauer, like the character on King of the Hill takes some time to understand. Most people you can listen in a manner that is akin to skimming while reading, but our Boomhauer guy requires actually listening with intent until you get used to the speech patten. All three had varying levels of tattoos with Boomhauer having the most body art including a very bad neck tattoo of the number “13” surrounded by flames. You know the kind of flames, like the ones you see on cars only bad colour job. TGF and Ellie had taken the cats and some our belongings to the next motel in our tour while I had an enlightening if tongue biting conversation.

Finally the car dolly is off, the Purple Beast towed to the doctor’s office, and the rain stopped just in time for them to unload everything while I was wearing was soaked to the bone. I actually stopped to wring out the bottoms of my pants which were now about two inches longer than normal so I was consistently stepping on them. My cheap birks were wet and clammy, my blood sugar was crashing and I still needed to drive the Behemoth albeit a lesser one now that the dolly was gone back to the Mot*l 6. Eventually we finally we able to take off and went off to the Golden Corral for dinner. TGF was very happy. Did I mention that her palate has been heavily influenced by her southern roots and years in Ohio?

Thus my first day as a resident of Ohio comes to an exhausting and emotional end.

Rain, Roads and Raper, Oh My!

Tuesday Iowa to Indiana (385) miles)

During our stay in Davenport TGF better to not totally push ourselves to make Dayton on Tuesday and stay the night at Jeriann’s. The idea of unloading to Jer’s 2-bedroom condo on the third floor of a walk up to share her space with her, our nephew Cody (almost 13 years old) and three cats with our crew just did not seem to be a great idea. And then there was the prospect of whether or not we would find somewhere to park the Behemoth at her condo. TGF picked Richmond Indiana, which is just across the border from Ohio and not far from Dayton proper, at our goal. It all seemed very doable, less mileage then the day before so a breeze, right? Not so much.

One of the great things about this part of the country is how far one can see ahead, and on either side of the road. In the early afternoon I could see rain falling far off in the distance, a sight I hadn’t seen in years and years. I first remember seeing this phenomenon when I was a child visiting my grandfather in Florida. It completely floored me how one could “see” rain from so far away, that one could see it but not be in it. That vision on nature is right up there in awe factor with the first time I clearly remember seeing the rays of the sun streaming down and when we drove through a cloud in Montana.

We were cruising along quite nicely when we hit our first real traffic tie up of the entire trip. I kid you not. There had been an accident which held up traffic for close to a hour, during which time we crawled along when we could drive. Cody called me during this time and we chatted about school and his Wii game, which helped to pass the time. We had all made plans to meet in Richmond for dinner because he could not wait to see us. I began to worry about making good time so as not to keep them out to late, it being a school night and all.

The traffic did let up but the light rain and darkened sky soon descended which slowed things a bit, but not as much as the crazy construction combined with rush hour traffic. It’s true the traffic is laughable when compared with the Bay Area but Indianapolis in dark light, rain, driving a Behemoth and having no idea when the lanes are going switch up on you, and the damn bumpiness of the road, well frankly it sucked big time!

Once we got onto 70 proper it was better, though it seemed to take forever for that to happen, but then we had no idea what exit the Mot*l 6 was at and there were no signs. When I finally saw a mileage sign that said 36 miles to Richmond I thought I would cry because after days of travel, the rain, the dark, and horrible suspension of the Behemoth I was beyond done with driving. I chanted and cursed my way through the last leg of this day. I played cheerleader and the team in need of cheering. Every time a bridge or an overpass appeared I bit my lip in order not to cry at the jarring section of road ahead.

I kept searching the billboards that popped up but when a series of them appeared in the distance I had hope that one would be blaring a Mot*l 6 sign however what I saw instead was what looked to my tired eyes to be the equivalent of a visual stutter – they were all blaring advertisements for a Tom Raper who apparently sold RVs, maybe something else. I really don’t know because I was so annoyed at his total domination of air space and not one of them was telling me when I could stop driving that I couldn’t read them. Finally I found a sign for another chain, called TGF to tell her I was going there, that I didn’t care anymore, I just had to stop driving. Soon after I saw that that very same exit led to the holy grail of motels for this trip. To say that I was happy, relieved, or even ready to collapse is only to scratch the surface of my emotions.

Soon after we met up with Jeriann and Cody for dinner which was really nice diversion. Afterwards we crawled in bed and looked forward to the conclusion of our journey.

We met a goal!

Monday Nebraska to Iowa (about 443 miles)

As we set out early I hoped and prayed for smoother roads because I was not relishing the idea of being a bobble doll again. Despite getting passed the last large mountain pass in Laramie Wyoming (elevation 8460 ft) there were still a number of rises and less dips from mid-Nebraska and through Iowa. I felt like I was going up, often a low rise but still up, about 70% of the time which was really exhausting work. Felt a bit like a wuss given that TGF did the Sierra ranges but it was still hard work. And well, the Purple Beast is a heavier load than the Subaru.

Iowa really is a pretty state with its rolling hills and sweet valleys. With the Motel 6 guide in hand we had decided to set Davenport Iowa as our distance goal. During the day I remembered to call Sunny to give her an update since I hadn’t spoken to her since waiting on a tow in Buford. When I told her we were about 15 miles outside of Des Moines, she said that might mean something to her if she knew anything about geography. I told her it meant we were in Iowa and had finished getting through Wyoming and that we had tackled the wide expanse that is Nebraska. She remembered Nebraska as rather plain and uninspiring from our trip across the country back in 1973. I told her I didn’t remember that state from that journey but that I found it changed landscapes as one drove through it.

At this late date I don’t remember much else about the day’s journey, which is probably a good thing because it means it was rather uneventful. We did actually make it to Davenport which represents the first time this trip that we set and met a destination goal. Impressive if you ask me; given all the bumps literal and figurative in the road on this journey.

And the winds they do blow

Sunday Wyoming to Nebraska (362 miles)This time we got an earlier start, determined to get moving and make up for losing a day. With high hopes and without consulting a map we aimed for Omaha, soon we realized this was a rather ambitious goal. Nebraska is a very long, long state; something that had not changed in the six years since I last traveled Route 80. What was different were the winds which were gusting at up to 35- 75 miles per hour depending on whether one believed the reports I heard or the ones TGF heard. Regardless of clocking the winds it made driving the Behemoth challenging as it was a top heavy beast.

As I drove along feeling more confident suddenly the road changed, or was it a tire. Since I could only see the tires on one side, and given all the problems we had had, I decided it was wiser to pull over and check things out. Of course all the tires were fine but I could barely open my door, or see for all the wind stirring up the dust of the plains. We quickly hopped back on the road. The winds were creating the most amazing dust storms which suddenly that image so much more than it had been before as I struggled to walk in the winds, drive through them and watch dust funnels form. Western Nebraska was rockier and more barren, but as I drove east, the landscape softened and there were trees atop slightly scalloped hills. The other natural feature that teased my eyes was a river that traveled along side for a long time. I loved watching the colours change and the movement of the gentle current. It reminded me of the bay and of the wrap I made (that I have not put up the photos of) for Ruth.The rumbling of the road continued but I no longer feared it was a tire problem. The bumpiness of the road shook me all over and I often felt like one of the bobble headed toys keep in the back window made for just such conditions. My other thought was of those silly machines that proposed simply by jiggling a person that one could lose weight. If that were true by the end of my journey I should be easily ten pounds lighter. Clearly this was not to be because one, those types of machines do not work; and two, the road food is not conducive to weight loss. Actually the rumbling was really hard to deal with because there was no way to truly relax into it and I keep wishing for smooth roadways. There were times when I would almost cry when the bumps started while other times I would almost cry when the road became slick as a sheet of ice.

As day grew long we settled on exit in Grand Island. This was a huge and luxurious feeling travel spot, a Bosselman’s with restaurants, a barber shop, a mini grocery store, and free wireless throughout the property! This was the most elegant of the Motel 6 (or anywhere this trip) that we stopped at and I really appreciated the slight upgraded décor though the room was on the small side.

It was lovely to stop driving after my first full driving day of the Behemoth. Truly lovely.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Saturday Wyoming to Wyoming (149 miles. Yes you read that right)

As six years earlier, the early morning light in Wyoming is beautiful. The light coming over the hills, the undulating horizons, and the endless expanse of sky is so beautiful that it is almost overwhelming. This time I was able to see the skylines as the sun was rising, thanks to Wyatt needing to go outside as soon as a human stirred. The winds were fierce in the early light and though I wanted to take photos the lure of the bed was much stronger than any artistic motivations.

TGF offered to drive the Behemoth to the Sinclair gas station as she had more experience maneuvering the beast and once on the highway we would find a place to switch driving. I strolled over to her to negotiate payment and such. In passing I noted that there was a red Dodge diesel truck on the other side of the pump. The owner of this vehicle would soon prove invaluable to our journey and protected our safety. A few moments later he was looking over our truck and said, “I don’t mean to be nosy but I think you’ve got yourself a problem with your towing rig. The tongue looks yanked out of place.” Sure enough it did not look right at all. The rig was barely on one the ball hitch and he said we were lucky that we hadn’t lost our car. We thanked him profusely for pointing out the wrecked car dolly, filled up the gas tank (again for buckets of money), pulled the truck to the side of the gas station and call B*dget.

One of the first things the very helpful guy said was “you should NEVER back up the vehicle when you have a car dolly”, which was exactly what TGF had to do the night before. She replied that our dealer had even drawn out directions for how to back up. There was an awkward silence from our guy on the phone and some hemming and hawing. Soon Iron J Towing was pulling up behind our crippled Behemoth. A tall, thin, dark haired guy named John took one look at the hitch and said, “Shit!”, to which I replied that was not exactly the assessment we were hoping for. Aside from his negative judgment he was quite helpful but said he would have to send another guy with a larger rig out. On the positive he thought there was a B*dget car dolly left at their tow yard. We tried to think positively about this dolly because who knew how else we were going to do this trip if we had to leave a vehicle here.

Shortly after Mikel from Iron J Towing came by, gave the same assessment on the condition of the hitch – basically it was f*cked and would need a major repair. We mentioned that John had indicated there was an abandoned B*dget dolly at the yard. He noted that it had a flat tire. Soon he was on the phone with B*dget when I overheard him say that he doesn’t do tire work on Saturdays. I fought the urge to say something about it must be nice to decide when one does what type of work but bit my tongue and wondered if $50 dollars under the table would change his mind. After a fair amount of back and forth with our rental company and Mikel it was decided that we would follow Mikel to the yard, in the east part of town so he could see what he could do. It was there at the Iron J Towing property that TGF remembered my tevas had been on the roof of the Purple Beast, only now there was but one lone sandal. I was now down to one pair of shoes, a pair of cheap sandals, until we landed and unpacked in Ohio. Mikel kindly sent us off to get some breakfast while he saw what was usable between our car dolly and the two he had sitting there.

By the time we finished our meal down the road at Penny’s Diner (this end of Rawlins was the bustling end while where we had stayed was the down on it’s luck end of town), Mikel had taken the Subaru off, disconnected the defunct dolly and had another one almost ready to hitch on. By this time, Don a older guy with a body crooked and awkward from hard physical labor, and bad teeth, who I assume was the owner or manager of the joint was chatting us up. Especially since I would be driving the Behemoth from for awhile we were asking about the mountain passes. He assured us there was only one more major one and from the crest, “you can see all the way over to Ohio where we would be able to see our husband and yell at him to get back to work". Needless to say we did not correct him about a husband waiting on our asses in Ohio. Clearly Mikel had broken his own rule and replaced the tire on the dolly so we could hit the road. I thanked for his help and going beyond the call; I also let him know that I would be publicly thanking Mikel and Iron J Towing. So if you are ever in a pinch in the vicinity of Rawlins WY, you now know who to call for excellent help. Just don’t mention if you’re a lesbian, don’t talk about the dangers of cigarettes and pretend politics doesn’t exist as a topic up for debate.

Finally we were on the road, looking for a good pull off to trade rides, which we soon found. At first I was a little nervous about handling a 24-foot truck plus hauling the Subaru but I remembered a little thing TGF told me. Her dad and she have always bonded around cars. TGF is a good driver and has what her dad refers to as a good gut for driving, as in it’s instinctual for that person. Well she apparently told him that I have “the gut”. I replayed her telling me that tale a time or two to calm my nerves, and it really did help.

A bit down the road she buzzed me saying the cats could probably use some water – the hot winds continued – and a bathroom stop for us and the dog might be a good idea. The next likely place was in Buford at the Buford Trading Post. We hung out a bit, stretching our legs, giving Wyatt some time out of the car, getting water to the cats, etc. The owner of the Post came up to ask TGF if the soda machine had eaten any of her money, which seemed nice, but he was abrupt and odd about questioning her use of dimes rather than quarters. We decided he was bit cantankerous and left it alone. Getting into our respective vehicles I steeled myself up to the challenge of a series of turns to get out of there and back on the highway. As I climbed the entrance ramp my phone rang. “The Blazer won’t start.” Ugh. I told her to call me if she couldn’t get her going, or to catch up to me. A few minutes later I called her and found that she still had had no luck so I needed to turn around at the next available exit. Luckily this was not too far ahead and as I neared the entrance to the trading post I noticed the sign: Buford WY. Pop. 1. Elevation 8000. Sure enough Purple Beast was making the same noises and not turning over as she had before we replaced the battery and alternator, after being assured the fuel pump was fine. Not so sure about that any more.

A call to AAA told me that a tow truck would be on the way within an hour, and because I was confident they would not get the Purple Beast to start, I requested that they switch which vehicle was on the dolly since there was nothing wrong with the Subaru. The sun was beginning to make it’s descent but the beauty was almost wasted on me as this had put another hitch into our plans and I was starting to doubt our ability to successfully get to Ohio. About this time we both phoned our mothers because, frankly, at this point our inner child needed a cyber hug awful bad. A bit later AAA called to say that taking the working car off the dolly was not covered and might cost about $200. I was really frustrated by everything and really didn’t care about the money, I just wanted to get back on the road. When it had been more than an hour I called again and was told that tow truck that had been sent to rescue us had broke down. Irony, no? When I went over to TGF to tell her this she was chatting up two guys who she announced were professional wrestlers. They were great guys. Mosi is originally from Detroit, which is where they were heading, but had lived a number of places. Jeremy was from Idaho, in the process of relocating to Detroit. Mosi was a chatty guy, while Jeremy was a good foil for his tales. My phone rang with another call from AAA telling me they were having problems finding another tow company allowed on the property where we were stuck. No I am not kidding. Apparently the owner of this land and apparently most if not all of Buford is a bit, um, prickly. In the midst of this, as the skies got darker, I remembered that I had brownies from Roger the Neighbor, so despite being stressed and stranded I played the gracious hostess and passed the dessert around to the wrestlers who had said they would stay until a tow company came to help us.

Another phone call from AAA tells me they found someone but, and it’s a big one, they will have to tow the Purple Beast and we will have to follow them to somewhere else because The Buford Man does not like any work done on his property. Now keep in mind that the store has long since closed and Mr I Live in Town of My Own is nowhere to be found. Finally after dark Sean from Big Al’s Towing showed up. He was great! Told us great stories, like the guy who pulled off the highway to walk his dog and was told by a cowboy type man to “get off my land”. Mr Dog Walker said "hey it’s a public highway". Apparently not and Mr. Cowboy let off a load of buckshot into his engine and Sean towed it away. Sean called Mr My Own Town to tell him he was coming to help us. What Sean didn’t tell his was that he was going to do the work right there. In fact Sean was surprised that Mr. My Own Town didn’t show up to bother us. The charming Sean also only charged us $100 for at least an hour of crazy work of switching the cars. It was quite the project towing a dead car up onto the car dolly. Upon his recommendation we drove about 25 miles to a Motel 6 (which is the chain we stayed with the rest of the trip) because they are relatively inexpensive (read bare bones) and allow pets.

So though we had been out of our motel room for a good 12 hours our miles traveled were very low for last Saturday.

(Dear readers please note I am posting these way after the fact so the posting date is correct but for example this happened over a week ago. I have been having difficulty having enough energy to write and internet access is still quite irregular. I have started on last Sunday's entry and hope to post it soon. We are in Ohio already so do not fear.)

Eastward progress

Friday (Nevada to Wyoming 410 miles)

In the morning we gas up (something we did a lot, and for huge buckets of money for the Behemoth) and TGF says she thinks she can drive after all. While I am relieved that I won’t have the responsibility of driving that thing I remain worried about her body.

(I confess I am writing this almost a week later and things are getting fuzzy, plus I am behind exhausted – more emotionally than physically at this point.)

Once again the eerie beauty of the Great Salt Lake Desert captured my imagination. How did this stretch get crossed the first time, how could those people known how to go on. This time I noticed more rock messages, similar to those in Nevada but the here the colour contrast was more stark, more distinctly black & white. Initials and names made up most of the messages but there was also a heart shaped peace sign. New art installations used soda or water bottles stuck upside down to form shapes or designs. Back in 2001 I don’t remember so many rock markings, certainly not the bottles. Perhaps there are just more traveling east, or there is more of this sort of thing. I wonder if Burning Man has had an impact on this desert art.

Traveling east the views of the actual salt water lake are not quite as tantalizing but it still is an awesome thing to behold in the middle of the desert landscape. Also as has been noted by other travelers entering Salt Lake city from the east is much more striking vista but it is still amazing how suddenly a large scale city is ahead of you after so much nothing.

The red rock of Utah towered above us as we cruised down the road. Suddenly I got an urge to call Glamour Girl to see how she was fairly with her chemo treatment. With all that has been going on in my world I have been a less than attentive friend to her and others. However the signal on my blackberry was invisible. Don’t I sound oh so hip? I’m not. It’s a low end model that a friend got on a deal which became a better deal when the fabu deal buster website, that I won’t link here because I am not willing to be responsible for creating more addiction to the web, did not charge her for it. I barely know how to work the damn thing and it randomly calls people while sitting in my bag, but other than that it’s great. Anyway, I had to wait until I crossed states and called her from Wyoming. I am happy to report that she is doing really well and seems to managing her treatments with grace and good feelings.

Our mutual limit was reached and Rawlins was picked as our next resting stop for the evening. Like other cities (Chicago and the cows come to mind) Rawlins has the Pronghorn Pride Project which I learned about via billboards. I never saw any of the art project versions but I did see lots of actual pronghorn antelope during our drive through the state, which was really cool!

Once again we settled at a Super 8, though this one was far more costly than the other one, which was surprising because it’s not like this town is bustling or anything. Calling another hotel in our line of vision gave the same result so we stuck with the place that we knew accepted pets and had free wireless. Unfortunately TGF got a bit stuck in the gravel of the parking area next door and had to work the Behemoth a bit to get into a better spot. By this point she was in major pain and swore that I would have to drive the next day, which course I said I would.

This was the first night we had a fridge and microwave in the room, which felt like the lap of luxury about now. We each heated something in the microwave and nibbled on various little things until we were reasonably sated. The room seemed awfully smelly between my sinking Tevas, heated Indian food and tortilla soup. I couldn’t take the stench and was sure it was my shoes beyond our food, animals, their food or anything else contributing to the odor, so I grabbed my Tevas and took them outside, propping them on the roof of PB. At this time the wind had begun kicking up so I tucked them under the roof rack just a bit and then used the rest of my strength to open the door against the powerful winds for the umpteen time that night. Unloading a dog, three cat carriers (Marcelle and Atticus were sharing the really large one), our bags, litter boxes, their food, etc made every evening and morning akin to a small moving job.

Soon we settled into a sleep after deciding on a new goal and attempting to bolster myself for the task of driving the Behemoth the next day. We had managed to do just over 1000 miles of about 2400 and time was feeling rather pressured to me but I remained hopeful we would make serious progress.

The trip begins in earnest

(Wednesday. Oakland CA to Fernley NV. 250 miles)

We proceeded merrily along until somewhere near Sacramento where unfortunately TGF went left instead of right and we barreled along on Business 80 rather than Route 80 to Reno. So around about we went until we were finally back on track. It was amazing how sleepy I felt and it was so early in the drive. One last time we pulled into a service area and got In n Out burgers. Yes I ate a burger, theirs are the some of the only ones I would eat. I don’t know what they do to them but I actually like them. A little food somehow reenergized us both, thankfully and we proceeded merrily along.

In my calculations I had forgotten about the mountain ranges we needed to drive through. Well I hadn’t forgotten but had not accounted for a heavy truck pulling a Subaru Forester. Oops. The vistas were still beautiful and I eagerly awaited the gates which mark the entrance into California Heading eastward there is no clear marker but still there was something exhilarating about crossing that invisible line out of the state that I had passed through six years previous.

The roads climbed, dipped, and climbed again. As we rode on the elevation markers made it clear how far up we were: 4,000; 5,000; 6,000 feet above sea level. There was spitting hitting my windshield, reminding me how long it had been since I had seen rain. It never rained hard but it made the driving hard for TGF; the first rains of the season make the roads slick and slippery as the water mixes with oil and gasoline on the asphalt surface. The smell was of chalk and wet and asphalt.

Suddenly the lights of Reno were ahead, twinkling and bright. One building outlined in green, recalled the Emerald City but this was a larger rainbow with other outline colours visible. There was something about the gaudy cluster of brightness that made feel like I had been living in some provincial little hamlet rather than somewhere as diverse and sophisticated as Berkeley.

After the glowing town the road was dark, cold, and drizzling when we pulled over so she could get some gas. I suppose exhaustion is to blame for her taking a wrong turn out of the station. She tried back up, which is hard to do with good instruction and while wide awake. As she tried figure out how to get out of this non-road, I pondered how to get the sleeping bags off the roof of the car and if we could keep warm enough until day light and start again. She found a way out though an unpaved section until she found a paved road and we made our way back on the road. Soon after that she called me staying she was done. Tried pulling into a Super 8 but they were full, as was the Best Western across the way. The front desk person recommended the Truck’s Inn across the highway, so on we went. This place was a total dive: a motel/casino/restaurant/truck stop with absolutely no charm. Seriously. It took forever to book the room as the woman at the desk was new and apparently not allowed to do a dang thing. The manager gave me a room but before he could put the charge through had a long phone call from which I found out that most rooms in a significant radius had been booked up for the better part of a year for Street Vibrations scheduled for the coming weekend. As nice as the manager was he wasn’t very talented because he could not put a charge through and talk on the phone. Reminded me of the joke of not being to walk and chew gum – yep that was him. Through all of this I was being inundated with second hand smoke and wanted to strip off a layer of skin to get it off.

The hallways had signs that read “Please talk and walk softly as people are sleeping at all hours”; and the room was just as charming as you might imagine, complete with carpeting on the door. Now it took me all of a minute to figure out the reason for the décor but TGF is a total princess when it comes to hotels and had never been to a place like this, what I like to call a “chew ‘n screw”. It wasn’t until the next morning that she told me she had just figured it out, after pondering it for awhile. Anybody know? It’s cheaper than a good door that actually blocks sound.

The barrenness of Nevada

Thursday. Nevada to Nevada (365 miles)

After getting some gas I hop on the highway to catch up to TGF but I’m not seeing her, so I call. Nothing. No answer. Barreling along I keep trying to phone her to no avail, which is pissing me off a bit because she called me just before taking off.

The western part of Nevada is as naked of colour and charm as I remember it being on the trip west. I ponder the arrangement of black rocks against the beige sand, wondering where the hell she is, The Purple Beast loses power. As in dies. I coast onto the shoulder and feel panic starting to rise. The exit behind is far, I have no idea where the next one is, I have a car full of animals, and I’m in a desert. It shocked me how out of control and alone I felt so quickly. Suddenly my phone rings and I cannot stop myself from yelling a bit – “Where the hell have you been! The car died, the hood won’t pop.” Quickly I rein myself in and say I’m going to try starting her again and for TGF to find a rest stop. PB blessedly starts back up and we meet at a rest stop not too far up the road. On the drive there the hood loosens so it easily opens for a looksee. Following us to the rest stop is a brigade of Model T Fords or something like them and I mutter something about them still running. (I do have a photo of one but I have downloaded nothing so far. Sorry!) A friendly man from the DOT or the Highway Department (he had a uniform and "company" vehicle so he was an official something or other) comes over and pokes around our car. We all decide to agree it was a vapor lock in the fuel line and all is fine.

Nevada stretches ahead of us for a long time and the mountain passes come up every so often. As I ride along I continue to look for the messages spelled out, the artful rock piles and hope that we can make the next goal I set out for us as we are behind my carefully constructed schedule by about 125 miles.

A little tidbit for travelers: The entire town of Elko is a wireless hotspot. Go figure. San Francisco isn't but this little diddly squat place in the desert is, weird.

Late in the day somehow, perhaps I made an extra stop, TGF is far ahead of me and I am trying to catch up. The sun is just starting to lower in the sky as yet another rise crests and begins to fall. My phone rings and she is breathless, sounding a little scared and perhaps beaten down. The downward slope off the mountain was really hard for her to manage and she was shaken, done even. We agreed to call it a night as soon as there seemed a good spot to pull off.

Soon West Wendover’s lights were welcoming us as dusk fell, glistening fading streams of light hitting the Great Salt Desert, with the bright lights of casinos directly in front of the vast salt lands beyond as the road curved downward. Tonight’s host is a Super 8 and dinner was the very disappointing and expensive buffet at the Rainbow Casino. At this point TGF’s shoulder injury was hurting something evil and we talked about me taking over the truck driving to her a rest. I confess that I was a bit daunted by driving the behemoth but was ready to do whatever needed to be done. We tucked ourselves and the beasties in, hoping to dream sweet dreams and face the next day.