I Know How A Butterfly Feels. Ann Palmer

       CHAPTER 5

       THE FIRST TRIP

      When driving a motor home towing a car, one must choose gas stations very carefully so there is easy exit access. In Yucca Valley, I spotted a station that I thought would be an easy exit. After filling the gas tank with $62 worth of gas, I was heading out of the driveway when wham, stuck, the motor home would not budge. I shifted forward and reverse -- nothing! What on earth was I going to do! Days before, I had inquired about emergency service via AAA and Good Sam Club but neither would be in effect for this trip. Who would I call? Oh me, oh my!

      No matter what I tried, the motor home would not dislodge! THEN suddenly two Angels appeared in the form of two young Mexican men - one was a mechanic and was even wearing a leg brace. That did not stop him from getting down on the ground, helping to jack up the motor home. The bars on the car had to be removed with the tow parts detached, then part of the hitch had to be removed, finally after two hours work, the motor home at long last moved. I drove it across the street where the one young man, wearing the brace, reattached everything so that the motor home and car were ready to travel. About the same time the manager of the station appeared, not to help but to take a report. I assumed to try to collect off my insurance. One of the young men had left and when I tried to pay the other one, he refused but I insisted he take his girlfriend out for a nice evening and stuck the money in his pocket. I couldn’t believe they could have helped me so much then refused pay for their time. Unfortunately, while I was inside filling out the report with the manager, another motor home snuggled up in front of mine making it impossible to move. After the day I had, very apprehensively, I decided to just fall in bed and stay right there on a side street for the night. They assured me it was safe. My very first night in my new/older motor home was spent on a side street in Yucca Valley, California.

      May 22nd - Wednesday - As I observed the damage done by my hitch and recalling the photos taken by the manager, I decided to take photos for my Insurance Company of the many scrapes on that dipping driveway, plus other major cracks in their asphalt. The other motor home was still parked in front blocking mine. I waited and waited for the auto dealership to open assuming the other one was there for repairs. Finally a man arrived -- no, they knew nothing about it. The night before there had been no lights on inside so I also assumed no one was in it. Finally I decided to knock on the door, and much to my surprise, it brought a sleepy-eyed bearded man to the door that was quite accommodating and moved immediately.

      I drove on through 29 Palms. Although I had been to the cabin a number of times, I managed to pass the road I was supposed to take - good thing - I would have had to drive miles on a dirt road. Once a car is attached to a motor home you go in one direction – forward. Mark, Martha’s son, has a new SUV and could easily whiz by on the gravel road. Mark took a look at my hitch and said the neck of the ball was too small, etc. We drove into 29 Palms and bought another one $10. Now, this is just to say that had I have bought a NEW hitch in the first place, I would have saved money and had a brand new one. Mark reversed the whole thing so that it was higher and that was the end of my dragging hitch - I hoped…

      I am supposed to be psychic and my intuition kept telling me to take Highway 62 and 95 to Vegas, even if it was further but Mark had been so helpful and had drawn a back roads map for me to take the shortcut. I did and a bumpy short cut it was! Worse than the bumps, road workers had just put down new asphalt on part of it. My motor home has a “skirt” dragging the ground to keep stuff from hitting the car -- BUT - when I got to Vegas, I realized my NEW little car was COVERED with asphalt and for months afterwards was still scrapping it off. Anywhere that asphalt could hit the motor home or car, it did. I stopped in Las Vegas to visit with very dear friends. I used their hose, washed and swept off as much of the asphalt as I could but deep in the crevices of the hood cover, asphalt was an inch or more thicker - I was sick about my cute little car but kept reminding myself it is just a material thing! My friend was counting on my staying and having breakfast at her favorite restaurant (not mine), however, I awoke before 6 A.M. and just thinking about getting away later with a heavy breakfast in my stomach when my best driving time is early morning, I cranked up the old girl and off I went on a long day’s drive…

      May 23rd - Thursday - At the edge of Vegas, I filled the gas tank again -- another $50. It is a long drive to St. George, Utah and I had seen it all before. When I encountered wind, I had to slow down and hang on to the steering wheel. I stopped in Mesquite, Nevada. I was going to take a quick turn at the slot machines. I got out of the motor home and started walking toward the Casino when I said, “What am I doing, I hate gambling!” I whirled around and back on the road I went.

      After leaving Nevada, there is a stretch of Arizona before Utah. The area on the way to St. George is very pretty. The whole state of Utah is gorgeous. I enjoyed the views. When I drive all day, I and the vehicle become one.

      Memorial Day weekend was approaching. I really wanted to just get past Salt Lake City as I assumed heavy traffic would begin on Friday. Another $66 for gas in Beaver, Utah, then stopped at a roadside park to fix a sandwich. I did get through all the heavy traffic and road construction around Salt Lake City. Being so new to driving that big thing, heavy traffic is a bit nerve wracking. Finally the traffic and road repair dwindled away and I stopped for another $50 worth of gas near Brigham City, Utah. It was getting to be late afternoon but as I looked at the sun, I knew I had more driving time. What a beautiful drive it was - I always feel sorry for those who do not or cannot get out to see our country! The sun was half hidden behind clouds that created beautiful lighting on the mountains, dotted with snow and fresh shades of green on both sides of the highway. There was a half rainbow visible. The drive was so pleasant without the wind pushing against the motor home and I could just inhale all the beauty that lay before me. By now, I was comfortable driving the big bus. I pushed on as I wanted to cross into Idaho before dark. I did and I kept driving as it was still daylight. Just as it was getting dark, I made it to Pocatello, Idaho where I drove through the town looking for a Wal-Mart to park in their parking lot for the night. I found a very large similar store and parked at the far end of the parking lot. I was uneasy but it had worked OK in Yucca Valley so “Early to bed and early to rise.”

      May 24th - Friday – It was one week after my botched birthday and one more beautiful drive - plus another stop for gas in Idaho Falls. From the moment I entered Montana, I could see why it is called “Big Sky” country – with the high altitude and driving between mountains, with the clouds ducking in and out that were hiding the mountain tops, one feels so high up and the sky does seem to be so big - it is truly beautiful and I might add -- cold! I arrived in Gold Creek around noon and waited about an hour just off the skinny barely two lane road for Martha to come and guide me back to her place. I am glad she did as I have a terrible fear of getting stuck where I cannot turn around. Remember, a motor home towing a car cannot be backed up without detaching the car. It was a beautiful day. A sweater or sweatshirt was comfortable. Well - problems had not ended -- trying to get my huge bus across the cattle guard through the narrow gate and then curve it around to go where she was directing me caused me to damage her gate, tear off the drain for my water tank. The water was gushing out of it until I lost all the water in my holding tank and again the hitch was stuck in the ground! Apparently we misunderstood each other. I thought she wanted me to curve around missing farm machinery, as well as her sewer drain field. If I had driven straight in, then maybe backed around after detaching the car, I would have made it without damaging her gate. It is my first real trial in driving the Big Bertha! I felt awful about damaging her gate, then on top of that digging a deep rut. I got two large boards and put them under the back wheels. Martha’s son, Dale, tried to guide me so that the motor home would move out of its stuck position. I rocked “her” back and forth in reverse and forward until she finally moved and I circled around to the area where Martha wanted me to park. It was definitely not a RV parking site as she had told me. It was just in the field. Martha couldn’t remember where the sewer hookup was so we awaited her other son, Tim’s arrival to show us where to hook into it. That took days but