Day 54: October 26, 2026: Getting Back on the road

Glad to be off I-80 and away from the relentless parade of trucks. Our sleeping spot put us right in front of the repair shop gate; a couple of times through the night it swung open, but the faint, rhythmic beeping was easy enough to sleep through.

​Wanting to be fully prepped before they opened, I scurried around getting everything secured and gave the engine "doghouse" cover a good cleaning. It was long overdue. I unearthed a few items we’d been searching for, more gum for Kasey, and a surprising amount of loose change.

​Promptly at 8:15 AM, as instructed, we walked up to the service window, beating out a young man still sporting his flannel pajamas. As Brandon,  the service writer took down our information, we quickly realized we’d been dropped off at the wrong location. They have separate facilities for diesel and gas engines. Our motorhome would need to be towed a mile over to their gas shop. Big Al's Towing was called back out, and while we waited, a technician poked under the hood and gave a preliminary diagnosis: likely a blown spark plug.

​With nothing more for me to do outside, I grabbed my computer, coffee, phone, and Tad, and headed up to their second-floor customer lounge. It was surprisingly luxurious: a spacious room with a TV, full kitchen, coffee setup, employee bathroom, several pieces of furniture including a couch, lounge chair, loveseat, and a dining table. I was just getting set up to work when Kasey called: the tow truck had arrived.

​Downstairs, we discovered our driver was none other than Joshua again. In full form with his sharp humor intact, he had us hooked up in no time. He drove so smoothly and carefully on the mile-long trip over that his cup of hot cocoa was still sitting perfectly upright on his truck fender when we arrived! When I tried to pay him for the second transport, he firmly refused, insisting it was no trouble at all.

​Inside, Kasey went over the details with Ryan, the service writer. Once Ryan finished his questionnaire, I asked about a waiting area. This one was far less grand with just a couple of chairs and a coffee brewer. Since the other service writer, Jackie, was allergic to dogs, we asked if we could walk back to the first shop so Tad could lounge in comfort. They offered us a ride, but we opted to walk the mile to get some fresh air and stretch our legs.

​It turned out to be an entertaining walk. Among the roadside sights, a discarded dildo was certainly unexpected, and a patch of colorful running sand made for an interesting natural curiosity. Joshua would have appreciated that.

​Back upstairs in the main lounge, I got straight to work on Umpqua Watersheds business including reviewing the Tiller timber sale project documents and sorting through comments from one of our members so I could draft our formal submission before the deadline in a couple of days.

​While I plugged away at the bare-bones outline of my comments, Kasey sacked out on the couch for a much-needed nap. 

Tad was fidgety and refused to settle on the floor, but with the seat next to me on the loveseat open, I realized he just wanted a comfortable spot. Overriding our strict "no dogs on the furniture" rule at home, I patted the loveseat. He hopped right up, curled in next to me, and went fast asleep.

​Eventually, the young man in the flannel pajamas walked in to wait. Trying to break the ice, I smiled and said, "Looks like you're still in your jammies!"

"Ah, they're comfortable," he replied. He wasn't particularly chatty, so I turned back to my laptop while Tad barely batted an eye.

​A short while later, Ryan called with confirmation: it was indeed a blown spark plug, and they needed to do a bit of reconstructive work around it.

​Soon after, a second man arrived, presumably the driving partner of PJ Guy, and proved to be just as quiet. So there we were, four adults in a room, in total silence. Honestly, the quiet worked in my favor: I used the uninterrupted time to upload my next KQUA radio shows and knock out a few more tasks on my list.

Kasey decided to take Tad out for a walk and returned to more waiting.

It was almost 5 when we were summoned to pick up the RV. We opted for the ride option this time. I quickly swept up the dried mud that Tad left everywhere. By now, it was dry powder. We wished the other 2 waiting room occupants good luck as we left.

Kellen was our driver. After realizing we had the Oregon RV, he asked if it would be worth his while to visit Oregon. Kasey quickly gave him the affirmative and listed several interesting places and natural wonders.  At the other shop, I waited outside with Tad because of the dog allergy Jackie has, while Kasey went in and paid for the damages. Guess we should eat macaroni and cheese from now on. 

Ryan and Jackie at the counter were wonderful! They really worked hard to make sure we were on the road to our campground instead of spending another night in a parking lot. Kasey asked if he could have a pen and they gladly gave him 5, one of each color, a sticker and two suckers. Kasey's all about the bling, just check his sock drawer in the motorhome!

The technician, Andrew, brought the motorhome around and I promptly thanked him and ushered Tad inside so we could warm up. Soon we were on our way hoping to arrive at Curt Gowdy State Park for the night.

The sun is setting earlier and earlier so we were in a rush to make the 25 miles to the campground. It is a self pay campground.

After driving through what was supposed to be sites with electricity, we doubled back to a campground where we found an electric hookup. The moon was just coming up and was awe inspiring.

The cold weather forecast makes electricity much preferred.  

With everything in place, it was time to turn in. But wait. The excitement wasn't over. Kasey took Tad for a late night potty break and wandered into a burr patch. After 30 minutes, we freed Tad and Kasey of their nasty burr mess. 

What a day. We are nearing home so things should go smoothly from here on....

Day 53 Lexington Nebraska to Patriot Diesel and Automotive Repair, Cheyenne Wyoming 280 Miles and too Many Hours

Day 53 — Lexington, Nebraska, to Cheyenne, Wyoming

280 Miles and Too Many Hours

A Spark of Kindness on I-80

After a peaceful night's sleep, with occasional showers gently drumming on the roof of the motorhome and the furnace rarely coming on, we awoke refreshed and ready for another day on the road. After yesterday's nine-hour marathon, we were especially grateful for a good night's rest.

Over coffee, I proposed a change in plans to Janice. Rather than continuing south to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado, I suggested we head west to Curt Gowdy State Park, about 30 miles west of Cheyenne, Wyoming.

My reasoning was twofold. First, the forecast for Rocky Mountain National Park called for daytime highs in the mid-40s and nighttime temperatures in the 30s. Second, I was concerned that the steep climbs and winding mountain roads might put undue stress on our beloved motorhome, Lexy.

Taking the Wyoming route seemed like the safer bet.

Little did we know.

Before leaving, we took Tad for a hike around the 15-acre vineyard at Mac's Creek Winery. Along the trails were 16 interpretive signs describing the vineyard's efforts to maximize environmental sustainability. We were VERY impressed!

Earlier that morning, we had heard two great horned owls calling to one another. As we walked, a large bird suddenly flew up ahead of us.

"Was that an owl?" I whispered enthusiastically.

Janice immediately shifted into wildlife biologist mode. She quietly signaled for Tad and me to stay put while she slowly approached the area where the bird had disappeared.

About 40 yards ahead of us, the magnificent owl suddenly took flight, soaring directly over Janice and straight toward Tad and me!

What an extraordinary sight!

Tad, to his credit, remained perfectly still. He was waiting patiently for Janice to release us from our assigned positions, completely unaware of the spectacular wildlife encounter unfolding overhead.

It was a marvelous way to begin the day.

We returned to Lexy, packed up, and set out on what we expected would be a five-and-a-half-hour drive to Curt Gowdy State Park.

Our first stop was Casey's to fill the gas tank and replenish our coffee supply. I was momentarily confused by the five different grades of gasoline offered at the pump, including several blends containing higher percentages of ethanol. Janice suggested we stick with our usual regular gasoline blend.

Inside, we picked up some pastries and fresh coffee. The nice young woman at the register didn't charge us for the coffee, and I couldn't resist sharing a little about our adventures.

As we walked back to Lexy, Janice informed me that Dr. Rick, the fellow from the Progressive Insurance commercials who helps people avoid turning into their parents, would have given me a stern talking-to for my performance at the checkout counter.

Apparently, I've become one of those people who tells complete strangers about their travels.

Imagine that!

Trouble on the Horizon

For the first four hours, everything went swimmingly. Traffic was surprisingly light, the weather was cooperative, and Lexy purred along the interstate.

Then, about 20 miles east of Cheyenne, we encountered a construction zone.

The westbound lanes of Interstate 80 were closed, and traffic had been diverted onto the eastbound side of the highway. Vehicles traveling in both directions were squeezed into a single lane each, with little room for error.

Despite the congestion, traffic continued moving at around 65 miles per hour. Semis thundered past in both directions, but everything seemed to be flowing smoothly.

I was looking forward to getting back onto the regular westbound lanes so I could reengage our trusty cruise control.

Unfortunately, Lexy had other plans.

Suddenly, we heard a loud, alarming sound.

POP! POP! POP! POP!

It sounded like someone had opened fire under the hood!

Fortunately, there was a small turnout just ahead, and I managed to pull off the highway.

I switched on the emergency flashers and carefully climbed out to investigate. With traffic roaring past, I opened the hood and listened. The popping seemed less severe while the engine was idling, so I closed the hood and decided to see if we could limp to a safer location.

But the moment I stepped on the accelerator, the popping intensified, and it became painfully obvious that Lexy was not responding normally.

This was not good.

I stopped, waited for a break in traffic, and carefully backed the motorhome farther into the turnout.

We were stranded on the side of Interstate 80, surrounded by fast-moving traffic, with enormous semis whizzing past just a few feet away.

One trucker even blasted his horn as he roared by, apparently assuming our emergency flashers were some sort of sentimental decoration rather than an indication that we were in distress.

Welcome to Wyoming!

Calling in the Cavalry

We immediately called Good Sam Roadside Assistance, a service we carry through Camping World.

Janice spoke with a woman named Kay, who began arranging for a tow truck.

Unfortunately, because our GPS coordinates showed us on what was normally the eastbound side of Interstate 80, there was some confusion about where we should be taken.

The initial plan was to tow us two miles back to a repair shop in a tiny community with virtually no other services.

That didn't sound particularly appealing.

After considerable discussion, Kay agreed to have us towed about ten miles west to the TA Travel Center in Burns, Wyoming.

Shortly afterward, we received a reassuring text message:

Stauffer's Road Solutions had been dispatched and would arrive in 58 minutes.

Phew!

We settled into Lexy's living room to await our rescue.

I sat on the bench that converts into our kitchen table, looking east through the rear window. Janice sat on the couch, looking west.

There we were, sitting comfortably in our little rolling home, watching a relentless procession of cars and semis race past our windows.

We half expected a highway patrol officer to stop and check on us. Our predicament seemed precarious enough to warrant some official attention.

While we waited, Janice suggested I call the TA Travel Center to confirm they could repair Lexy!

Unfortunately, the woman who answered informed me that they only worked on trucks, not motorhomes like ours.

Despite assurances from both Good Sam and Google that automotive repair was available, it appeared we were headed somewhere that couldn't help us.

Back to the drawing board!

By now, our research, aided by Google AI, suggested that Lexy might have blown a spark plug. The nearest promising repair facility was Patriot Diesel and Automotive in Cheyenne, about 24 miles west of our location.

We called Good Sam Again!

This time we spoke with Cameron, who informed us that the original tow truck could not simply be redirected. We would have to cancel the first request, initiate an entirely new one, and pay an additional $250 upfront to be taken to our preferred destination.

Wonderful.

To Cameron's credit, he patiently worked through the process and got everything arranged.

A few minutes later, another text arrived.

A tow truck from Big Al's Towing had been dispatched and would arrive in about an hour.

Then my phone rang.

It was Joshua, our new tow truck driver.

He asked us to send photographs of Lexy and confirmed our exact location.

For the first time in a while, it felt as though someone who understood our predicament was taking charge.

Phew! Again!

Enter Joshua

Less than an hour later, a large tow truck pulled into the turnout.

Out stepped Joshua Cushman, an engaging young man born in 1991, just two years younger than our son Nick.

He immediately went to work.

Joshua instructed me to put Lexy in neutral, then skillfully backed his enormous tow truck into position. He slid the towing apparatus beneath Lexy's front end, secured everything, and lifted her front wheels off the ground.

Well, that was easy!

Or so I thought.

Next, Joshua crawled underneath the motorhome to disconnect the driveshaft so the transmission wouldn't be damaged during towing.

This proved considerably more challenging.

One of the bolts was badly rusted and refused to cooperate. For nearly 20 minutes, Joshua worked beneath Lexy, wrestling with the stubborn hardware while traffic continued roaring past.

Eventually, success!

 Johua secured the disconnected components, checked his work, and announced we were ready to go.

Janice and I climbed into the cab of the tow truck.

Unfortunately, there wasn't room for Tad, so he had to ride in Lexy.

As Joshua pulled onto the highway, Tad promptly climbed into the passenger seat of the motorhome. Joshua had secured the steering wheel with the seat belts, so there was no danger of Tad accidentally taking command.

Nevertheless, the expression on Tad's face was priceless.

There he was, sitting in the front seat of our motorhome, watching the world go by, with no human being behind the wheel!

I could almost hear his thoughts.

"What in the world is going on? Who's driving this thing? And why are Mom and Dad in that truck up ahead?"

Poor Taddy!

Two Sailors and a Tow Truck

As we traveled toward Cheyenne, we struck up a wonderful conversation with Joshua.

First, he made one thing clear: he goes by Joshua, not Josh. Fair enough!

We soon discovered we had quite a bit in common.

Joshua had served five years in the United States Navy as a sonar technician aboard a submarine. I had served four years in the Navy Reserves as an Operations Specialist.

We had both trained at Great Lakes Naval Training Center near Chicago, as had our grandfathers and my father.

Four generations of sailors, connected by a place and a tradition!

Joshua also shared stories from his years driving livestock trucks. In 2020, he hauled hogs and cattle from Wyoming to Oregon, California, and New Mexico.

We told him about our Grand Adventure, the thousands of miles we'd traveled, the wonderful people we'd visited, and the extraordinary places we'd explored.

Somewhere along Interstate 80, our tow truck driver began feeling less like a stranger and more like a friend.

It's remarkable how quickly that can happen.

Safe Harbor

We arrived at Patriot Diesel and Automotive in Cheyenne as the afternoon was turning into evening.

Joshua called Dave, the gentleman at Patriot with whom we'd spoken to earlier. Dave explained where Joshua should park Lexy for the night and told us the shop would open at 8:00 Monday morning. We should come over around 8:15 to speak with the service writer.

Joshua carefully lowered Lexy back onto the pavement, secured his towing equipment, and made sure we were safely parked for the night.

Her driveshaft remained disconnected, and her engine was still ailing.

Our beloved chariot was officially dead in the water!

Before leaving, Joshua gave us his phone number and told us to call if we needed anything.

"Even if it's the middle of the night," he added.

What a guy!

We thanked him profusely and handed him a $20 tip.

He protested that it wasn't necessary, but we insisted.

He had gone well beyond simply doing his job. He had treated us with kindness, patience, and genuine concern.

And in doing so, he had transformed a stressful and potentially dangerous situation into another memorable chapter of our adventure.

Home Is Where We Park It

By the time Joshua drove away, it was around 6:00 p.m.

We were tired, relieved, and very grateful to be safely parked.

There wasn't much more we could do until morning, so we did what we've done so many times during this journey.

We made ourselves at home.

I chopped peppers, onions, and chicken while Janice prepared her legendary burritos.

We opened a couple of IPAs from a Vermont brewery, a pleasant reminder of our recent adventures in New England.

Then we settled in for a game of Rummikub.

Janice graciously allowed me to win.

We took Tad out for his evening constitutional, then climbed into bed. After catching up on Facebook, Duolingo, and the news, we turned off the lights and listened to a chapter of our new audiobook.

Outside, the rain began falling softly on Lexy's roof.

Just as it had the night before.

Only now, instead of resting peacefully at a vineyard in Nebraska, we were parked outside an automotive repair shop in Cheyenne, Wyoming, with an ailing motorhome, a disconnected driveshaft, and an uncertain tomorrow.

As I lay there listening to the rain, I thought about the events of the day.

We had begun the morning watching a magnificent great horned owl soar through the Nebraska sky. We had traveled hundreds of miles across the Great Plains, encountered an unexpected mechanical failure, and spent hours stranded beside one of America's busiest interstate highways.

And then we met Joshua.

A young man who came to tow our motorhome and ended up reminding us of something far more important than engines, highways, or travel plans.

The kindness of strangers is one of life's greatest gifts.

Sometimes the most memorable moments of a journey aren't the destinations we carefully plan, but the unexpected encounters that happen when those plans fall apart.

We had set out that morning hoping to avoid putting undue stress on Lexy by traveling through the mountains of Colorado.

Instead, we found ourselves broken down on the plains of Wyoming.

We are relieved we didn't breakdown on a mountain road. Fortuitous Planning!

But we were safe. We were warm. We had a roof over our heads, good food in our bellies, our beloved Taddy sleeping nearby, and another new friend in the world.

And tomorrow?

Well, tomorrow would take care of itself.

For tonight, we were grateful.

Together we are, together we shine.

Day 52: October 24, 2026. It's all about the water

Even with the highway nearby, I slept soundly as the traffic tapered off to a quiet lull, leaving us with a wonderfully peaceful night. Our Harvest Host spot at Heits Kennel and Grooming in Williamsburg, Iowa, was completely ours for the night.

​By 7:00 AM, I was up sipping coffee as the sun began to peek over the horizon. I wandered outside to see if our host was around, but the only ones up were the chickens, busy with their morning routine. Back at the motorhome, Kasey mentioned wanting to buy some fresh eggs and leave a donation for the water we’d hooked filled up with, but with no host in sight, we waited.

​Watching the chickens through the window, I figured their coop must have an automatic door since they were already out foraging. Remembering a stash of stale, crushed corn chips and crackers, I decided to go make my introduction. As I walked up, the flock scattered just a bit and that’s when I spotted four kittens among the birds, on high alert. Of course, I hadn’t brought my camera! The kittens were happily helping themselves to the corn chips. Not wanting to scare them off, I retreated to the motorhome blind to watch from afar with my coffee. Tad was right beside me, completely captivated by the little creatures darting around.

​Once the chickens lost interest in the chips, I slipped back outside with my camera to snap a photo of the automatic coop door. The kittens had retreated to the safety of the barn, but as I was focusing, Kyle, the owner, pulled up in a small electric cart. I mentioned how neat the automatic door was, and he admitted it had been acting up, closing too early at night and locking a few confused chickens outside. When I asked about buying eggs, he generously offered to just give us a carton.

​About then, Kasey joined us, paying $5 for the water from the night before. (Though as it turned out, our tank wasn't quite full and the sensor was already reading low again!) Kyle was warm and inquisitive, asking about our background and how we liked the site. We found out that he has 4 kids and 3 that live nearby. Kasey and I shared our genuine appreciation for the hospitality before saying our goodbyes.

​We were ready to roll, knowing a long day of driving lay ahead. Though we had no idea just how much longer it would actually take.

​First order of business was dumping our black and gray tanks. A polite way of saying getting rid of our waste. About an hour down the road, we pulled into a Love's to gas up and empty the tanks. We hoped to top off our fresh water, too, but every spigot turned out to be non-potable. I scouted ahead, found a Camping World a couple of hours down our route, called to confirm they had fresh water available, and routed it on the map for Kasey.

​Not long after, highway traffic ground to a crawl. As we crept forward, we saw the cause: a semi had practically swallowed the right side of an SUV. The entire passenger side was torn off, wedged into the rear left of the trailer. It was a sobering, terrifying sight, and it felt like a miracle if anyone survived it.

​Once the horror of the accident was behind us, I settled in with my head down for a bit. Eventually, Kasey pulled off so he could use the bathroom and I could give Tad a quick walk. Back in the rig, I glanced at the GPS and realized, to my confusion, that our distance to the destination hadn't dropped at all. Without audio prompts from Google Maps, Kasey had accidentally missed a junction—likely driven by muscle memory from old I-35 trips—and taken us south on I35 instead of west on I-80.

Realizing the mistake, we doubled back, winding along County Highway 34 through quiet small towns and rolling farm country. There are not many people out this way. It is really flat out here.

It was an unexpected detour, but a beautifully scenic one. The slower pace enabled Tad to stick his head out the window, thoroughly enjoying the rush of fresh country air and new smells. He was apparently salivating with sheer joy, too. Though there wasn't a drop of rain in the sky, I suddenly found myself on the receiving end of a fine, unexpected spray right through my open window.

​By now, stopping at Camping World was out of the question, marking our third failed attempt to secure fresh water. It’s always a relief to get those utility chores out of the way so you can just relax and take photos, read, answer emails, and enjoy the passing landscape.

Eventually, we steered our way back onto I-80, righted our course, and pushed forward into the afternoon.

At the next gas stop, we took advantage of the available water to top our tanks.

​By early evening, we pulled into our next Harvest Host location in Lexington, Nebraska. As a fun coincidence, driving our Forest River Lexington into Lexington felt like a little moment of RV kismet: a Lexington in Lexington!

​Our stop for the night was Mac’s Creek Winery, Cidery & Brewery. Knowing they closed within an hour of our arrival, we perused the menu online beforehand and walked through the door ready to order. Haley, our host, greeted us with a warm welcome and gave us the run-down on their offerings.

​Kasey went with the Chaider, a hard apple cider infused with chai tea, while I opted for the Crabby Abby cider alongside their peach almond bruschetta. We shared a plate of Creek Nachos to round it out served cheerfully by Missy. Between the delicious spread and learning about how thoughtfully the business works in harmony with the local ecosystem, it was the perfect reward after our long, eventful day on the road.

Back at the motorhome, after a long day, Kasey wasted no time getting into his jammies and settling in to listen to the world series.

Day 51 Mattawan Michigan to Willamsburg Iowa 6 Hours 366 Miles - Corn Country

Day 51 – Corn Country

Mattawan, Michigan, to Williamsburg, Iowa — 366 Miles, 6 Hours

We started our morning with coffee and conversation with Karen at 8 a.m. Les and their older dog, Guinness, had a full day ahead of them.

On October 18, a tragic automobile accident claimed the lives of two Mattawan High School students and left three others severely injured. Les and Guinness have been visiting students at the hospital and high school, offering comfort during an unimaginably difficult time for their community.

Dogs are remarkable therapists. They don't need to find the right words or offer explanations. They simply show up, share their unconditional love, and somehow make the world a little less painful. What a beautiful gift Les and Guinness are giving these young people.

We said our goodbyes and set sail for Williamsburg, Iowa, where our next Harvest Host, Heits Kennel and Grooming, awaited us.

The drive would exceed my preferred four-hour limit by about two hours with traffic, but we were already feeling the strong gravitational pull of Home. After nearly two months on the road, the familiar comforts of our little corner of Oregon were calling.

Our first challenge was getting west of Chicago. Our last trek through the area in 2023 had been painfully slow, thanks to construction and accidents. We braced ourselves for another ordeal.

To our surprise and delight, we sailed through with minimal slowdowns!

With the cruise control engaged and miles of interstate stretching before us, I jokingly suggested to Janice that I might enjoy closing my eyes for a while and letting the motorhome continue on autopilot.

She was not amused.

Instead, she kept me alert and focused with a steady supply of caffeine and interesting podcasts. Apparently, the Chariot of the Dogs is not yet equipped with autonomous navigation.

As we traveled, we tuned in to local FM radio stations, something I always enjoy because it gives us a little window into the communities we're passing through.

Unfortunately, this particular window was filled with political commercials.

We were lambasted by advertisements, several featuring Republican candidates warning of the socialist or communist threat posed by their Democratic opponents.

While I resisted the temptation to close my eyes from weariness, I did find myself rolling them toward the ceiling in disgust.

I thought we had soundly rejected McCarthyism back in the 1950s. Apparently, some political strategists have decided it's time for a revival tour.

We also passed enormous billboards featuring Donald Trump and warnings about high gasoline prices. Meanwhile, our phones continued receiving a deluge of texts and emails pleading urgently for political donations.

Ugh!

I'll be relieved when the elections are over, for a number of reasons.

The next challenge involved propane.

We stopped at "The World's Largest Truck Stop" but it was PACKED so we skedaddled .

The previous day when we stopped at a Love's Travel Stop that advertised propane, we discovered that nobody working there in the middle of the day knew how to operate the equipment. So we put it off until today.

Fortunately, at our next stop, a friendly young man named Sam came to our rescue. He was interested in our travels and admired our motorhome, describing it as "vintage."

Vintage!

I suppose that sounds considerably more dignified than "old." The Chariot of the Dogs has certainly earned its distinguished status after all these miles and adventures. 

We eventually arrived at Heits Kennel and Grooming, our Harvest Host for the evening.

I called Kyle, the owner, and asked whether there was somewhere we could fill our freshwater tank. He kindly directed us to a spigot near the barn.

We hooked up the hose and thought we had filled the tank, only to discover later that we had barely a third of a tank of water. Apparently, we had been running on little more than a few drops!

This prompted an important addition to our growing collection of motorhome wisdom.

Janice's mother had a wonderful saying:

"Never miss an opportunity to pee!"

After 51 days on the road, I believe we can expand that timeless advice:

"Never miss an opportunity to dump your black and gray water tanks, top off your freshwater tank, or fill your propane tank whenever you're below two-thirds!"

Admittedly, it doesn't have quite the same catchy ring to it.

But it's excellent advice for avoiding unnecessary stress in a rolling household!

Corn Country.

With our camp established, Janice, Tad and I took a leisurely walk around the pond. The sun was settling toward the horizon, the temperature was in the upper 60s, and the Iowa countryside was peaceful. We walked through corn rows like kids along with Taddy.

After hours of interstate traffic, political advertisements, and logistical challenges, it felt wonderful to be surrounded by the quiet simplicity of rural America.

Back in our cozy little home on wheels, Janice and I played a couple of games of National Park Yahtzee. We enjoyed burritos and some of our newly acquired green chile firecrackers before retiring to the bedroom.

I finished Wednesday's blog and began reading it aloud to Janice, as I often do.

About halfway through, I noticed that my attentive audience had begun snoring.

Apparently, my literary masterpiece was having a profoundly relaxing effect.

I gently kissed her, drew a small handlebar mustache on her,. Goodnight sweet princess! I turned off the light, and went to sleep. Two hour later I gently wiped off the mustache, ensuring we all get up on the right side of the bed in the morning. 

It might have looked like this...

Another day, another 366 miles, another collection of memories.

And another day closer to Home.