Wednesday, May 1, Naperville, Illinois
Cathleen sets her alarm for 8, but I wake up before that. In fact, we are awakened by the low-battery beep of a CO/explosive gas detector at 2:45 a.m. I had unplugged it to take on the trip, and the battery must be dying. I replace the battery. While I’m up, I take clothes out of the washer and throw them in the dryer.
At noon, we take an Uber to the RV place, which is pretty far
in Carol Stream. This is our first time driving the RV, or any RV. I take the
wheel first. It drives like a moving truck. If you have driven a 24-foot moving
truck, which I have, you know this feeling. The back of the truck is a little
wobbly and doesn’t necessarily want to stop with the front. Stuff slides around
if it is not battened down. It is 24’6” long, 11’4” tall, and 8’6” wide. I
don’t know if that includes the side mirrors, which necessarily stick out like
Alfred E. Neuman ears.
We decide to take the interstate home to avoid having to
drive it through residential Wheaton on our first outing in the RV. We hadn’t
planned to take this route in advance, so the I-Pass is still in the staging
area. When we get to the first toll booth, we have to use the cash lane, where
I use one of two one-dollar bills from my wallet. I can’t reach the dollar
intake from the driver window, so I have to open the door and step out. Luckily,
it is the middle of a Wednesday, and no one honks in impatience.
We make it home without incident. First, we eat lunch. Then,
we load up the thing. We parked it on the street because our driveway is on an
incline. This makes for a lot of carrying.
The house has a kitchen in the front and a bed and bath in
the back. (See yesterday’s floorplan.) It’s a queen size bed adjacent to a tiny
bathroom with shower and toilet (with a door). The kitchen is on the right
front side of the house. It has a sink, a 3-burner stove with oven and an
overhead microwave. Next to that is a small refrigerator and freezer. Across
from all that is a table seating four, which converts into a bed. An
accordion divider separates the kitchen from the bed and bath. Outside of the
bathroom is a smaller sink with a medicine cabinet. There is a wardrobe and
drawers and many overhead cabinets. We fill many of these, but not all. Clothes,
food, first aid kit, plates and utensils, maps, mop, broom, bucket, etc. A
tower-style electric heater, which was recommended.
There are several large storage compartments available only
from the exterior. I spend an unplanned amount of time trying to fit Liam’s
bicycle into the largest of them. He texted us the night before requesting that
we bring the bike. First, I take off the quick-release front tire. It almost
fits. Then I take off the less-then-quick release rear wheel (due to the chain and
derailleur). I get all three parts in, but my hands are greasy now. After
washing, I put the two cat strollers in the same storage compartment, protected
by garbage bag covers. In other compartments, I put 4 folding butterfly lawn
chairs, tool bag, tire air compressor, 100-foot extension cord (only good for
20 amps). I won’t use most of this, but who knows?
We lock up the house and leave at 4:00 pm. We have reserved
a spot at a KOA near Cleveland. If we drive fast, and don’t stop, it would
still be 11 pm Eastern Time when we get there. Rush hour is building. We
definitely wanted to leave before now.
At 22 miles, I say “We’re 1 percent of the way through our
trip.” Our estimate is 2200 miles.
I-294 is slow, under construction with lanes closures. Not
fair. Winter just ended. Saturday, it snowed.
Traffic is moving again. On our right, a group of deer
frolic among some decaying tree trunks in a meadow. On our left, a billboard
says, “All of the liquor, None of the clothes.”
We are taking our two cats with us. Tallulah is a small 4.5-year-old
female from Tennessee. She is easily startled, but an excellent hunter. Dusty
is a 3-year-old Bombay male, black with brown tufts on his chest (hence the
name). He is very smart, very active, very affectionate, and can bother
Tallulah too much. When we are moving, they are in a pair of mesh and nylon pet
carriers. They look like small round-top tents, are zippered to each other and
are seat-belted to the kitchen table bench seat. Both cats are veterans of long car trips in minivans and sedans. But not RVs, with the rattling and truck sounds.
Dusty cries and we try to console him from the front. One of
them poops in their shared carrier (not in the litter box). I think it is Dusty, but Cathleen thinks Tallulah. We exit at 127th
and Cicero to clean up. We are only 31 miles into the trip. Later, when Dusty
is crying, Tallulah bops him on the nose, which stops him. The next day, we will
separate the carriers.
We start making progress. But we are hungry. It is 7:30 CT. We
stop at an Indiana rest stop. I am so glad Cathleen brought the arepas. We
eat the filling cold, in tortillas heated in the microwave. Delicious.
There is no way we make it to Cleveland tonight.
This should have been a 2-week trip. One RV author mentioned
a common RV strategy of driving one day, camping one day. But I couldn’t take
two weeks off at this time. Not to mention the added expense.
We stop at the Elkhart, Indiana rest stop at 9:30 pm (EDT) for
gas, leg-stretch, and possible bathroom visits. I go into the men’s room, which
has 3 stalls, all full. I use the urinal and go to fill up the RV gas tank. The
tank holds 55 gallons, and I fill it with 22 gallons @ $2.999. That’s like $66
for 140 miles, I think, which would be 6.36 mpg. That has to be wrong. The “F”
on the fuel gauge when we picked it up was not all the way full. That is, the
gauge goes above F when the tank is completely full. We’ll see at the next fill-up.
I’d been led to believe anywhere between 8 to 10 mpg. If you use the generator,
that also takes from the gas tank. After filling the tank, I go back to the men’s
room, which is thankfully empty. My strategy is not to use the RV toilet for number
two unless I have to.
Driving, we stay to the right lane, below the speed limit.
When a semi passes on the left, the air pushes us to the right. We are 11’4”
tall after all. In fact, it’s a blessing because it gives us a buffer from the
trucks.
Cathleen starts driving at 10 pm ET. Every bump rattles the
whole coach. Bridges, all over the Indiana Toll Road, are the worst. One
specific metallic noise is bothering her. I get up to investigate. Walking
around the moving RV is not unlike a bus or airplane in motion. The stove top
grill is making the noise. I wrap it in a rag towel. It works. The supplies
list comes through!
She has some other suggestions. Can you open the blinds in
the “bedroom”?
The cat food bowls are moving across the dining room table.
Duct tape on their placemat. I discern that the next most annoying rattle is from
the coach door and its companion screen door. If I just ball up our comforter
and shove it between the door and the bottom step, that should fix it. Just
kidding.
A truck passes by lit up like a liquor store at Christmas. Did
I mention it was night?
Cath has to drive a 6-mile gauntlet of narrowed one-lane
construction bordered by concrete barriers.
At the Tiffin River, Ohio rest area, there is an RV
overnight parking lot, but $20 seems steep for no hookups. Plus, it would mean
another hour driving tomorrow. But it’s after midnight, so it already is
tomorrow. Later, I realize that there was an electric hookup, a central dump
station, and a shared tall hand pump for water like you might find on a farm.
I take over driving in light rain, with a fog blanket. On
Google Maps, Cathleen finds a Walmart outside Toledo and calls. Walmart is a well-known overnight RV option. Supposedly, the
etiquette is to talk to the manager before parking in their lot. It is called boondocking or dry camping. Just
stay out of the way of shoppers. We exit the Ohio Turnpike at 1:17 am,
according to I-Pass records.
It takes a while to find things and get settled in the RV. We don’t get to
sleep until about 2:15 am.
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| The RV in the Walmart parking lot, next morning. |
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