June 27, 2007

June 27, 2007

Californ-I-A

The first night back on the road was hot. Accustomed to the air-conditioned bedrooms of the guest house, we all had a little trouble getting to sleep in the extreme heat. The heat woke most of us up around 8:00am when it was already climbing to 100+ degrees outside. A good hour or two was spent inside a nearby, air-conditioned, gas station. We fueled up and started towards the border. We were only twenty miles away from the border when we parked last night.

Nearing the border, we unpacked the cameras and got ready for the big moment. Phone calls were made, and pictures were taken the second we passed the “Welcome to California” sign. It got pretty loud in the cabin, as we approached the border inspection stop. We parked a little ways down the road and walked the footbridge over the Colorado River to the sign. We snapped a few pics before deciding we needed to get out of the heat. Michigan weather is sounding better and better all the time. Closer to the city limits we found a McDonalds and used the gift card that Scott gave us (thanks Scott) to buy some milk shakes.

We were in no hurry to leave the cool, air-conditioned cafeteria of McDonalds. More phone calls were made, including one from my sister Julie, to figure out the plan for the next few days. Ryan and Julie are giving us a place to stay for a while, and the inside scoop of LA. We’re looking forward to actually making it their place, but right now we are facing a small delay.

Helen is overheating again, right before we enter about 80miles of desert. We decided to pull over at the last gas station before the desert, to cool down and wait. When the sun goes down, the temperature will drop and we can keep chugging down I-10 towards LA. For now, we’re writing, watching videos of the trip thus far, copying pictures to the computers, and playing poker. The truck stop restaurant we are in is near empty; I’m sure we were more than half of their customers all day.

We waited until about 11:00pm before we took off through the desert. It was a long stay at the truck stop and we were ready get out of there. Because of our long delay, we wouldn’t be making it to Ryan and Julie’s until about 3:00am, so we decided we would park somewhere nearby and meet up in the morning.

On the highway, Helen gave us a big scare. The transmission wasn’t shifting into third gear, causing us to stay at a 35mph top speed. As we limped down the highway, hazard lights flashing, we talked about possible solutions. There was serious talk about scrapping the whole thing and buying bus tickets back. We thought for sure that Helen had given up. But then, a second wind, Helen was shifting again! Not asking any questions as to why it worked again, we proceeded to find a Wal-Mart just a few minutes from Ryan and Julie. It was 3:00am.

Once at Wal-Mart, we all went inside and cleaned up. It was walking back to the Bago that we discovered we had parked right next to a “No overnight RV parking” sign. Not really wanting to be towed, this close to our destination, we moved into the next empty lot. A half hour after we parked there, a security vehicle came by and made us move again. Desperately searching for a place to stay we cruised on down the road. A block away there was an abandoned gas station with its windows boarded up. It didn’t look very inviting but it worked. We slept good, knowing we had made it.

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen

Rancho Cucamonga, California

June 26, 2007

June 26, 2007

Motor Home-Sick

The order and structure that goes into a normal day at the house was getting to be too much for us. We were ready to pick up Mike and return to the unplanned excitement of the West. Helen has been parked for a few days now, longer than any other stop we’ve made since we left.

We woke up around noon and got ready to go to the airport. It was at the airport that we found out that we were in the newspaper. Our good friend Leo made sure that we got as much publicity as the other group of guys in the bus. There was a good picture of us at the send-off in there, along with a neat article that I’m sure is hanging on my fridge back home. Thanks Leo.

We updated the site, checked our e-mails, and headed for the terminals. Mike’s flight was delayed nine minutes, throwing our schedule way out of whack (but not really). We met up and the five became six once again. Everyone talking at once, we filled Mike in on all the great stuff that he missed out on, and a lot of the crap that we had to deal with while he was gone. Everyone back up to speed, we drove back to our temporary desert home.

We arrived back home and after a few introductions, we started to make dinner. Mrs. Kapenga’s famous Stromboli is one dish that Dan and Micah are beginning to perfect. It was delicious, and everyone was impressed with the cooking skills of Helen’s crew. Just because we only eat food that comes in wrappers while on the road, doesn’t mean that we don’t know how to cook while in a kitchen.

After dinner and a small waterslide building project, we began to pack and clean up. The accumulated trash from all of our food took a while to pick up. Luke broke a window in the Winnebago by throwing his army helmet. He was aiming for an open window and shattered the sliding pane next to it. It made a bit of a mess, and there is a gaping hole where the driver’s window should be, but for now we don’t need one.

Mike got his head shaved today; I did last night, so now everyone is buzzed clean. It’s the high speed, low drag, and low maintenance aspects that make it the hair cut of choice among the crew members.

When the guest house was clean we made our way back into the Bago to continue our push to California. We said our goodbyes, hopped in and drove off, aiming to cross the border.

It feels good to be on the road again, like this is actually back to our normal. There was little adjustment time, as Helen was as eager as we were to drive west although we did make a wrong turn down a one way street. Luckily there was no oncoming traffic and we turned around easily.

California is getting close, and we’re proving a lot of people wrong. If we were to break down right here, we would walk the remaining 139 miles to the border. Well, Mike, Luke, Ian and I would bike, Dan and Micah would walk, but we would all get there somehow. No problems since we left Tucson, things are looking good for the Winnebago Boys. Next post should be from California, …should be.

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen

Phoenix, Arizona -ish

2,456 miles from home

June 22-25, 2007

June 22-25, 2007

More Like Home

Never had we doubted old Helen more than we did in the mountains Friday night. The steep cliffs on our right, provided little room for us to pull off when we overheated, which we did often. The transmission’s temp would skyrocket with every steep climb. Cars and trucks passed us with speed, as we eased up the mountains. The stop and go pace of the Winnebago was a tedious necessity to keep it cool, but the all night drive got us all the way to Tucson, Arizona where Micah’s aunt Robyn and uncle Brad live.

Parking the Bago next to the guest house, we quickly moved all of our stuff inside and took our first real showers of the trip. It was a good feeling being clean again, at least for a little while. It was easier to put up with each other too, now that we didn’t smell. Right after showers and a little laundry we took naps. For Luke and Dan it was the first sleep since before Roswell. When we woke up we would drive our way to Mexico; the first planned activity of the trip.

Mexico was a lot of fun. Our house was right on the California Gulf. The waves were huge and we swam in the ocean a lot. We also got out and explored the nearby tourist community. Things are a lot different in Mexico than they are in the States. We slept a couple of nights under the stars, out on our porch to avoid the cockroaches inside. All in all, a good time before taking off back to Tucson.

Once back at the house, we finished moving in and once again taking advantage of real showers. The backyard pool made the 100 degree days bearable in the afternoons. At night we played video games and drank pop just like we were down in my basement back in Holland. It was a good break from the road. Throw a few chores in the mix and we felt right at home.

Not much else happened in these few days. Away from the road and out of the Winnebago, we haven’t really had anything out of the ordinary happen to us. I’m sure that when we get Helen back on the highway the posts will get a little longer.

Mike is supposed to fly into town tomorrow afternoon at about four o’clock. The plan is to leave after dinner and make a push to California. We’re not that far out, and hope to make it to my sister Julie’s place in a few days. That is after we call and tell her we’re getting close.

One more late night with Playstation 2 and Mountain Dew before we get Mike and leave. We’re all a little ready to get back on the road again; it should be a good feeling.

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen

Tucson, Arizona

2,338 miles from home

Luke's List

This was written a while back but never got posted, here it is

Luke: So far team Winnebago has high spirits, but I expect that to change as we approach the Rocky Mountains. But with the right amount of quarreling and fireworks we should be all right.

Here is a list of things we still hope to accomplish.

#1. Make a citizen’s arrest

#2. Jump off a bridge into a river from the roof of the Winnebago

#3. Break 55 mph

#4. Run a heard of buffalo off a cliff

#5. Perform a pit/e-brake maneuver

#6. Make a bonfire that can be seen from space

#7. Sneak into Mexico

#8. Freeload off hotel pools and complimentary breakfasts

#9. Collect insurance

#10. Shave every ones head

June 21, 2007

June 21, 2007

Alien Hunting

As soon as we hit the New Mexico border last night, talk of aliens and UFOs filled the Winnebago. Every light and every noise was a UFO, every person an alien. We joked about the whole idea and completely underestimated what we would actually find in Roswell, New Mexico.
The extreme heat of the desert sidelined dear Helen during the afternoon hours of the 21st. The bago needed several breaks even in the cooler, mid-west states to prevent overheating. The desert here has proven to be much worse. The decision was made to avoid the heat of the day. We would burn our time touring the town, hunting for aliens.
Every business in the city exploited the idea of Roswell being a UFO hotspot. The Wal-Mart we stayed at last night had aliens painted on the front of the building, welcoming us into the store. An Arby’s sign flashed “Aliens Welcome.” Main Street held a wide variety of alien museums and research centers. Most everything we saw was just a tourist trap. T-shirts, mugs, key chains, and posters were everywhere. Not satisfied with just scratching the surface, we did some investigative reporting with our video camera. Acting like huge alien enthusiasts we went around asking peoples opinions on what they thought was real. Not getting the reactions we hoped for, we dug deeper. We wanted the people you would find on the discovery channel late at night talking about their own abduction story. We went to the Roswell Alien Museum and Research Center for more answers. There was an admissions price of five dollars. Not having much spare cash we sent in Special reporters Luke and Ian to investigate (Ian because he passed as 15 and got the kids price.) They took the camera in with them and looked long and hard for evidence of life from space. None of it added up, so we gave up.
After a couple of hours in the town welcome center, using the internet to update the website and electric to charge all the batteries, we continued out west. The goal for tonight is Tucson, Arizona. It would be an all night trek but the prize, real showers. Micah’s aunt Robyn who lives in Tucson is willing to put us up for a few nights, in a real house, with running water and electricity. We may even get a few home cooked meals out of the deal. We have been looking forward to Tucson for a long time now. It may take all night, maybe into tomorrow morning, to get there, but the destination is just to appealing to wait any longer.
The heat proved to be too much even during our late evening departure. A few miles out of Roswell we had to take a break and let the engine cool. With no exits for miles ahead or behind us we pulled over next to a couple of semis on a small turn off. The small rest stop was just two picnic tables under a small triangle roof and a trash can. We quickly took out the stove and a few cans of beef stew. We cooked in the small piece of shade next to the trash can. To pass time we got the water balloon launcher out. We had little water, and no balloons, so we shot desert rocks instead. We shot for distance, for height, at cacti, and at jack rabbits. It was actually a lot of fun trying to hit stuff, miss, and watch the dust kick up where the rock skipped through the desert. Sometimes we would shoot one big rock, or a bunch of smaller ones. We didn’t catch any game on our water balloon launcher excursion, but that was probably a good thing. The sun was setting, the food was gone, and so we packed up and hit the road again.

One major obstacle still in our way, the mountains. The mountains have worried us since the moment we started planning the trip. We are aiming for the very southernmost point of the Rockies, where it isn’t so mountainous. We’ve been banking on Helen making it through this difficult stretch since we left, because if not, we don’t make it to Cali.
As we approach the mountains we watch a rain storm pass miles ahead of us. Straight above us, a mild blue-orange sky, far ahead we see the sheets of rain drop out of the sky and over the silhouetted hills beyond. Afraid that the bad weather ahead is a sign, we continue down the road. It is late Thursday night and there is no traffic on the roads. The first wave of hills behind us, the larger mountains begin to appear. There is a little bit of stress and worry in the front cabin right now. We’ll see where we end up in the morning, Tucson … or maybe somewhere short of there.

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen
The mountains of New Mexico
1,870 miles from

June 20, 2007

June 20/2007

Hellen, You Spoil Us

Battling a thunderstorm and near death will wear out even the strongest man. Hellen handled the storm beautifully but us guys are only human we needed a break. We woke at 11:00 and for the first time no one was in a pool of sweat. A cool 65 degree morning greeted us following the stormy night, and we were ready to continue our journey.
Ian started the day driving and we did not need to go far before making our first stop of the day. We were driving into a small town called Hollis when we saw a billboard that could have stopped a stampeding herd of wildebeests (see Lion King, Mufassa’s death) It wasn’t cheap gas, a national park or another Winnebago that would be a perfect match for Hellen. It was an advertisement for, are you ready for this, all you can eat Kentucky Fried Chicken! (Okay, maybe not better than a counterpart for Hellen but still it was amazing) After an hour stop to get wireless internet and another hour to experience the Colonel in his true beauty we were ready to make up for lost time.
After a little while Ian was sick of driving, he had driven roughly half of the entire trip so far we decided to throw a new driver into the rotation. Dan drove us through Texas as a new adventure in a new state began to unfold. The weather was beautiful and so was the scenery. The hills of Texas seemed to roll on forever and a clear sky set us up for a picture perfect night.
We do not know if it was leaving Oklahoma (the state no bachelor should call home), entering Texas or if the Winnebago decided to start treating us a little better, but things were looking good for Texas. At about 10:30 we decided to throw myself (Micah) behind the wheel and try to make it the nearly 300 miles to Roswell, New Mexico (I have never seen Luke so enthusiastic about any one place for a long time)
After fighting to stay awake while driving down the barren highway sometimes going nearly 15 minutes without seeing another car we stopped at the Texas/New Mexico border to take a picture by the “Welcome to New Mexico” sign. After Aaron and Luke stirred out of bed we ran out to get the picture and make a quick rest-stop.
New Mexico is known for paranormal experiences and alien sightings. We had our first adventure in New Mexico as we were crossing the border. Dan and I climbed into the pilots and co-pilots seats respectively. Dan, being the navigator had to be wary of the road ahead and pointed out what appeared to be a silhouette staggering closer to us and the guys still using the restroom. As he walked closer we realized that there was no building around for miles and had no idea why he would be wandering down a unpopulated road at 2 in the morning. As soon as everybody piled in I stepped on the gas and went to the far left lane to avoid the stranger whom I believe can be accurately described as a serial murderer. As I swerved away from him he began o stagger across the road as if he wanted to climb in the cab and say hello to us. When I say hello in this case however I am trying to find the words that a serial murderer would say to his victim’s right before he ate their faces. As the headlights passed by him we could vaguely make out his unshaven face and the pits he had where his eyes should have been. A green baseball hat, white baggy shirt and dirty jeans completed what can be best described as a killers ensamble. The most damning evidence against him was the fact that he never once removed his hand from under his shirt. Even after he turned after us as we sped away.
With a new energy boost from our first ever paranormal experience and the jokes of him running us down as we went 55 miles/hour we were able to stay awake until we entered Roswell. As we drove through downtown at 4 in the morning our eyes lit up like a kids on Christmas morning when he sees the bounty of presents he accumulated. We got our first look of the shops in downtown Roswell as we readied ourselves for a new adventure in a new city.

From Hellens’ Boys, written by Micah “Cue” Kool

June 19, 2007

June 19, 2007

We woke up this morning after a long night’s sleep, ready to get out of Tulsa. An early night last night and sleeping in this morning helped us stay wide awake as we moved the Winnebago for the first time in three days. The tires we fixed yesterday made us mobile for the short distance to the tire store. No more jumping between taxis and buses today.
As we wait at Wal-Mart for our parts to come in, we decide to shave some more heads. Micah and Ian had already done theirs. Micah’s is down almost to the skin. We call him Cue, short for cue ball because of his new look. Luke was first up today. The clipper was running off the Winnebago battery, and would sometimes die on us. The clipper guard kept falling off and making it difficult to cut hair at one uniform length. Luke now has a few divots in his head that look pretty funny. He wasn’t too happy about them though. After Luke was done it was Dan’s turn. Taking special care of the guard this time, Micah cut away at Dan’s hair. Struggling for power the clipper died about half way through. It was not a pretty hair cut. Buzzed in the front and full length in the back, but not quite like a mullet. There are pictures up on the site of it. After turning on the Bago to give it some extra juice, we finished buzzing Dan’s head. The tire parts came in and I didn’t have time for mine yet, but I was okay with that because my hair is much longer than Dan’s was and I didn’t want to get stuck half-way done like he was for a while. I’ll wait until we can plug in.
We sit in the air-conditioned waiting room sharing our stories with the other customers and the desk attendant. Everyone shares ideas from their teenage traveling days with us, telling us where to stop and places to avoid. The desk attendant tells us he’s going to go make a call to his wife, telling her that he won’t be home for a while because he’s going to join us on the road. Everyone we talk to tells us they are jealous.
The tire mechanic removes our wheels and checks our tubes. He tells us that only some of them are damaged, and the other ones should hold air. Confused as to how air is seeping out of our tires, we decide not to fix what the mechanic says isn’t broken. One tire, our spare, is shot completely. The mechanic refuses to work on it because it is actually dangerous to tamper with. We decide to keep it anyway, but if we lose another wheel, we’re screwed.
We get back on the road, ready to leave Tulsa for good. Everything is working, and the weather looks decent up ahead. We feel good about passing the bus terminal for the last time, without needing to stop at it. Our goal destination today is a state park south-west of Oklahoma City. They have showers, power hook-ups, and everything else we’ve been missing out on in Wal-Mart parking lots.
A couple hours away from our destination we receive a call from the Bus Guys. The other group that started their road trip a couple days ago and are already passing us. They called to tell us that when they passed through Oklahoma City that there were tornado warnings and heavy storms coming in. Staying south of the big city we hoped to steer clear of all bad weather, because so far on the trip, bad weather means something bad is going to happen to the Winnebago and her crew.
Driving through the dark, we start to second guess where the park actually is. The sky is pitch black with storm clouds. Unable to navigate using the sky, we use the city glow from Oklahoma City as our North Star substitute. Lighting flashes in a horseshoe around us, lighting up the outline of the giant storm clouds. The storm is still too far off to hear any thunder, but it seems like we are driving straight into it.
The five of us sit in the front, listening to the same old play-list on Micah’s ipod. Everyone is staring out a different window, watching the giant lightning bolts light up the sky around us. Occasionally one will light up the road in front of the Winnebago, revealing hidden turns in the road ahead. The mood is a tired one; nobody says much of anything. Mike, you chose a few good days to miss.
Driving nearer to the eye of the storm, the wind picked up. With the lightning came thunder now, and the rain began to pour. We attached a small fan to the dash to use as a window defogger. It worked, but only on the one window it was attached to. Visibility was low and it was obvious now that getting to the state park was not high on our list of priorities. Stopping for directions, the locals told us they had never heard of our park. They directed us to a different park, but in the rain it was impossible to find.
Missing the last three cities we planned to stop in, we were willing to park anywhere. We found a gas station out in the middle of nowhere, and we pulled around back. Outside, it’s raining sideways. The wind flings the door open as Luke turns the knob to go outside. Planning on taking real showers at the state park, we were a little disappointed with a gas station for the night. Plan B was to take showers out in the rain, which worked for a little bit. The wind was so strong and the rain so heavy, that it almost hurt to stand outside in a bathing suit. We quick lather up some soap, as we all dance around to keep warm. We hear a nearby crack of thunder. Dan claims he saw the lightning bolt hit a power line just across the street. He saw it spark and fall. All getting a little more nervous about the weather, we speed the showering process up. Then the brightest flash of lightning right in front of us, strikes a light pole less than thirty-five yards away, followed immediately with a tremor of thunder that you could feel. Terrified of how close to us it was, we rinsed off, and ran back inside where Helen was leaking in through all of her windows. The Bago was a mess, but we were clean. We all changed, ate cookies, and went to bed. An exciting ending to a long day on the road.

Winnebago guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen
Just west of Lawton, Oklahoma
1301 miles from home

June 18, 2007

June 18, 2007

Getting to Know Tulsa

Without transportation, fixing our tires would prove to be difficult. Ordering parts from one store and getting them installed in another, with no vehicle of our own, wasn’t easy. We made dozens of calls on dying cell phones looking for taxis and buses. Our longest trip was to Bixby, a neighboring city to pick up the tubes. Luckily we got a free ride from Perry Sebring, the son of my old neighbor back on 25th street. He lives around here now, and was kind enough to give us a ride to the shop, and some advice about the city.
From there it was jumping from bus to taxi, taxi to bus. Carrying two heavy tires over our shoulders wherever we went Luke and I got a lot of looks. We told the shortened story of our trip so far to a dozen people sitting around us on the bus, and in each shop we stopped in. This trip has involved more than just us West Michiganders. People from all across the country have offered help and advice whenever we need it. We’ve been pretty lucky with the people we meet.
The weather seems to foreshadow the events of our trip. Luke and I were walking back from our first ever Taco Bueno when it started to rain again. Then came the call that would eventually put us in Tulsa for another night. It was Ian; he said the other tires were leaking too. The rest of the tubes had to be replaced in each of our rear, dual tires. To order another set of tubes, we would need to wait another night.
“All we’ve got is time and food,” has become a popular saying among the crew members. These past couple days have showed us how right we actually are in saying it. Tired and bored, we snack inside Helen not because we’re hungry, but because we’re bored. We take occasional trips inside the Wal-Mart to browse and pass time. We never go in alone though; the prices are too low for any one man to handle by himself. We use the buddy system to stop each other from buying things we just don’t need. It’s tempting to buy things with prices so low. We’re doing the best we can to keep purchases to a minimum.
We were mistaken for homeless people today. A man biked over to tell us about a church down the road that could help us out. He looked homeless himself, with all of his things slung over his back. We could have gotten free food and showers if we posed as homeless boys, but we decided that would be a terrible idea. The showers were tempting though.
Not a lot going on in Tulsa. We really want to get out of here. Tomorrow should be the last day here, should be. The odometer is stuck at 78066.7 miles. We hope to add about 200 more tomorrow.

Winnebago guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen
Tulsa, Oklahoma
1039 miles, yah 3rd night in a row

June 17, 2007

June 17, 2007

Six Becomes Five

Mike packed his things early this Father’s day morning. We would be down one man on the Winnebago crew. The airport just down the street, a taxi waiting in the rain; not sure if we would see him again later in our trip, we all said our goodbyes. The weather reflects the mood, dark, cloudy and pouring rain. Mike leaves to be at Kyle’s funeral, and be with his family.
The rain lets up, and we go outside only to be disappointed with two more flat tires. The tubes inside the tires need to be replaced. Phone calls are made, parts are ordered, and we sit and wait in the Tulsa Wal-Mart parking lot.
Later in the day we search for internet. Wondering down busy streets, we pop in and out of McDonalds, Burger Kings, Arby’s, and KFC. It was in the KFC that we found our first, free internet in a few days. Threatening to kick us out, the manager told us we had to buy something, or leave. We bought a couple meals and split them among ourselves. The first food we paid for on the trip went down fast in the dry, air-conditioned dining room of KFC. A short lived, highlight in a nasty day.
Tomorrow, the parts will be in so that we can fix our tires and get out of here. No traveling today. It feels like a waste, more than a rest. We go to bed earlier than normal, ready to get up and out of this miserable town.

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen
Tulsa, Oklahoma
1039 miles, still

June 14, evening, (a little out of order)

June 14 (evening), 2007

Helen out of Hell

It had been a long day of diagnosing and fixing problems with the Winnebago. Traveling only 10 miles before breaking down earlier that morning, we made up time by driving through the evening hours. (Almost 180 miles at the end of the day.) The boys were tired and looking for a place to stay, someplace other than a Wal-Mart was sounding pretty good around 10:00pm. A national forest appeared on our map just past the next exit. A phone call home confirmed that it was probably free to stay there overnight. The decision was made, the exit was taken.

Mill Creek was the name of the campground/ picnic area that became our night time destination, located a little off the beaten path in a small town called Doolittle. With every curve of the winding road we lost sight of buildings and lights until we were deep within the pitch black forest.

The road was narrow; Helen leaned into the left lane with each banking turn she made. All other traffic disappeared along with buildings, and light pollution. Pitch black, Helen is the only source of light for miles. Trees crowd the road and blot out the starlight. An eerie fog rolls slowly over the road from our right, folding over on itself when it hits the rock face to our left. The mist casts our headlights back in through the windshield and the faces of six guys crowded in the front cabin appear for the first time since we entered the forest.

The next hint of life, a muffled screech that was captured with one of the cameras onboard the Winnebago. Turning up the volume and playing the sound back gave us each a worried, sinking feeling. We still haven’t figured out what made the noise.

Helen’s transmission temperature was rising with each uphill climb, and the breaks smoking with each descent. At our first intersection for miles we decide to stop and give the Bago a break. Armed with flashlights and armored with an army helmet, we exited the Winnebago to evaluate the temperature issue. Steam and smoke came pouring out of each wheel well and into the humid air. She needed some time to cool down before we could continue into the woods.

At one corner of the intersection there was a large clearing. Millions of stars appeared as we stepped out from underneath the trees. Just below the starlit sky was a flickering tree line thousands of fireflies were scattered before us; everyone started to calm down a little bit. Walking further down the road to the clearing, the Winnebago disappeared behind the fog. A shooting star lasting eight seconds or so, shot out in front of us.

Everyone was forgetting about the howling in the woods, and the lack of civilization, until we turned the corner and saw a line of fish heads hanging from a roadside fence. Luke comments about them looking fresh, and we’re all back on edge like before. We notice we’re missing Ian. A light appears through the fog towards the Bago, we hope its Ian. We go to investigate. It was Ian, not some crazed killer like anticipated. He tells us we could probably get back on the road.

All back inside, we turn on the lights, making a glare in the windows and blinding us from the outside. A team vote puts us back on the road in the direction that we came from. We were going to look for a Wal-Mart. The decision to turn around meant we were only half way out. Everyone is now on the edge of their seats, comparing our situation to every scary movie we’ve ever seen. We decided not to be the naive group of tourists that went further than they should have.

An abandoned barn appeared on our left, the door wide open, but the contents hidden by the fog. Rusty old machinery litters the side of our narrow lane. Then something darted across the road in front of us. “What was that!?” “That, that was a Hell-Rat.” A hell-rat we learned is a rodent that hunts in large groups, using smarts and numbers to overcome its prey in the midnight hours deep within haunted forests. We speed through the hills. With every tree branch that hits the rooftop, another hell-rat that jumped on to feast. The mood lightened after every over the top joke about hell-rats or scary movie reference. Although the Winnebago didn’t stop until the next mechanical issue which happened just as we got on the highway.

Lugging down the highway, we were all laughing, remembering what had just happened. Regaining cell-phone reception, I was on the phone in the back when it happened. Suddenly, all the lights inside and outside shut off and were replaced with a shower of sparks and smoke coming from our guages. Mass confusion, as two guys with flashlights come running at me in the back, to signal out the window that infact we were still on the road and trying to pull over. We discovered that our 60-0mph is a lot faster than our 0-60mph. Pulling off to the side, fire extinguisher in hand, the mechanics of the group frantically try to fix the lights. Still on the phone, I try to explain whats going on, but I really don’t know myself. The time between everything working fine, everyone joking and laughing, to the chaos of trying to get off the road, was seconds. Hearts pounding for the second time tonight, the problem is fixed, and we all get back inside. Thankfully traffic was light, and merging back on was simple.

A few miles later, we arrived at our third Wal-Mart. The grill and chairs were unpacked, and we tried to finish all the meat left in our cracked and leaking cooler. A couple of cans of beef stew, some ramen noodles, and dozen bratts later we called it a night.

There is nothing boring about this group of guys out here. No matter where we are, on the crowded highway, or in the middle of the woods, in the waiting room of the mechanics shop, or the corner of a Wal-Mart parking lot, something crazy is bound to happen. Only three nights in, and all the excitement we could have imagined. I’m looking forward to what lies ahead, not forgetting what we’ve already done. I hope things back home are going good. We’ll keep you updated. Winnebago guys, signing out.

Winnebago guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen

St. Robert, Missouri

683 miles from home

June 16

June 16, 2007

More Problems, More Help

So far on this trip we have had a mechanical problem every day. It has changed our plans, slowed us down, but it hasn’t stopped us yet. Today the issue was tires. Low tire pressure caused our dear Helen to lean to one side. Her tired haunch made us worry about driving conditions.
This morning we measured pressure in each of the tires and filled them back to where they used to be. The guy at the Goodyear Tire finished up and wished us good luck. After making a five-point turn out of the shop we made our way back on the road.
Standing upright once again, Helen lugged along, determined to get out of Missouri.
We reached the border under a cloudy, late afternoon sky. We needed two pictures; one by the “Welcome to Kansas” sign, and the other in front of the “Welcome to Missouri” Sign. We missed the Missouri sign on our way in. Crossing the highway, and border on foot we quickly posed for a mock “entering Missouri” pose.
It was when we were walking back from taking these two pictures that the next problem presented itself. About to climb in the side door we were blasted with air pouring out of our rear inside tire. The tube inside the rubber had popped. Like a big long sigh through her rear inside tire, she returned to her tired lean. Thankful that we weren’t on the road when it popped, we looked around for ways to fix it.
The two $10.00 Aldi’s car jacks were seeing sunlight for only the second time in five days. Remember the last time was when they fell out on the road. We needed blocks to set the jacks on so that they could reach the Bago. Ian and I walked up a dirt drive to ask our new neighbors if they had anything that could help us. We caught the first guy we saw outside in his front lawn. Sean Smith was his name, and he also was not wearing a shirt. There were some large wooden beams in his lawn that he helped us haul down the hill to where the other guys waited. Needing some leverage to turn the tire iron, we raided an abandoned truck bed for iron tubes to place over the handles.
Removing the spare wheel off the back gate, we noticed how little air was in our one and only reserve. We needed to get it to an air compresser and fill it up. That’s when our next friend showed up in his white pick-up, also not wearing a shirt. “Need a little help?” His name was Ron Kreg, a Kansas resident heading into town, kind enough to lend a hand. Ian and Luke jumped in the truck with our spare to fill it with air. The remainder of us stood around, shirts still off, listening to Sean’s life story. It wasn’t long and he headed back up to his house, telling us we could keep the giant wooden beams from his front lawn if we needed them. We declined the offer, knowing there wasn’t any room for any unessential items inside the Winnebago.
Ian, Luke, and Ron returned with a tire full of air. We threw it on where the old tire failed us. Sean came back down the hill, this time with his brother Dustin. They both had more stories to share with us, as Dan and Micah strained under the weight of the back dual tires. When it was done, it began to rain. There stood nine men, not a single shirt, getting soaked in the rain, nodding in approval of a job well done. We exchanged some information and got out the rain. We gave them the website URL and told our new friends to check up on us when they had the chance. If you guys are reading this, Thanks, we needed you that day, we’ll keep you updated.
It was on the road that night that we got a phone call giving us the bad news from back home. When we found out about Kyle’s car accident, the inside of the Winnebago got real quiet and serious. We knew him through football, mutual friends, school, and family. A few of us had talked to him just before we left on the trip. The weather fits the mood here. It’s been raining off and on all day. I hope that back home, our friends are doing okay. We’re praying for everyone involved and effected.
Another Wal-Mart tonight. Tires aren’t looking so good from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Any more problems will have to wait for tomorrow.

Winnebago Guys,
Tulsa, Oklahoma
1,039 miles from home

June 15, 2007

June 15, 2007

One problem after another…

It was a full day of mixed emotions, on our first Friday of the trip. Breakdowns are unavoidable, and frequent stops make progress slow. The small electrical fire last night gave us a few new problems that were hard to diagnose. It triggered a chain reaction of battery, alternator, regulator, and gauge issues. All very exciting to have on busy highways. When we pull over the driver signals to the pit crew to get ready to run out and fix stuff, something different every time. We’re getting pretty fast at it. I am running my laptop right now through a power inverter connected to the Winnebago in an attempt to use as much electricity as we can to prevent a surge. A series of temporary fixes keep us going, as I type this on Interstate 44 heading west towards Springfield, Missouri. We hope to get out of this state as soon as possible, hoping that by crossing the border we stop having mechanical problems.
Even as I write the cabin is flickering with lights, shorting out, and regaining power. To prevent a fire we draw as much energy away from the battery by turning on all of the lights, music and computers. The lights only work through a surge, causing a quick flicker every few minutes, but to prevent windshield glare we covered the lights with paper plates and duck tape; a real pro job of it too. The Winnebago is like a weed, you can hurt it but it just won’t die.
Earlier today we stopped by a river to take another bath. Inside the Winnebago during the day, it gets really hot. We really needed a clean up, bad. Past a dozen cow farms and down a dirt road, was the bridge was parked by. Bathing suits, towels, and soap in hand, all of us made our way to the bank. The water was a comfortable temperature and we decided to stick around for a while. Catching crayfish became not only a game, but a hunt for dinner. Four hours and thirty crayfish later, we ate on the side of the bridge. All of the crayfish were boiled, only a few of them eaten. The owner of the property drove up in her truck and offered us a place to park and stay for the night. We talked it over and decided that we should probably catch up for lost time yesterday. Complete strangers have been really nice to us so far and very interested in our road trip. We’ve made a few new friends so far, and hope to make some more.
The neighbor’s dog came down to investigate and we played with him for a while. We gave him the name Matt, after Jordan Miedema’s old dog, who he reminded us of. We took off, pulled back onto the road and almost tipped over. The top-heavy Winnebago doesn’t handle big curbs all too well, but we made it. There is a thin layer of dirt over the body from traveling on the dirt roads back here. Helen is a versatile vehicle, dominating pavement and gravel wherever she goes.
Tensions between the guys are dying down from where they were earlier today. Frustration was at its peak when we pulled into a BP gas station to try and fix our battery problem. There were a few different opinions on how Helen should be fixed, none of them succeeding on the first try. Realizing we were expecting too much out of out 35 year friend, we all chilled out a little, and lightened up. Now, problems are just humorous as they are always happening. We know that we aren’t invincible anymore, but also that we can’t get too stressed out about it. Right this minute, we’re between problems and doing great. “Jump on It” is blaring and everyone is feeling much better. We’re looking for a someplace to park for the night, hopefully outside the state of Missouri, hopefully.

June 14 (evening)

technical difficulties, this will be posted later, a little out of order, sorry

June 14

June 14, 2007

Sleeping in, going nowhere

“We are on a five, freakin’ lane highway!”
Last night was a late night for everyone. Luke and Ian braved midnight highway through St. Louis and into Eureka, Missouri; still the only two of us to drive yet. We pushed hard to avoid the big city traffic during the day. There were a few other, unhappy, drivers on the road with us that night, but we made it through in one piece. The twisted overpasses and crowded streets below seemed much younger and more complicated than Helen, who was just passing through. The Gateway Arch was a nice site at night, with the spotlights on it. No good pictures, sorry.
Windows open, we went to bed around 3:00am Holland time, 2:00am here. Sleeping in was our reward, and we did until 10:30 before cleaning, and washing up for a new day. The terrain of central Missouri is testing the limits of old Helen. The winding roads through the forested hills of this particular section of historic route 66 are slowing us down. We gauge the performance of the Winnebago on how many horns we get honked at us and angry drivers giving us the “number 1” sign.
The power converter from yesterday has drained our battery and ruined our alternator. We are at a stand still right now, about to head to the mechanic down the road. It’s going to take a new alternator, at the expense of a warm fridge, dead phones, and a bundle of cash. Not much else we can do but eat more Air Heads and try to stay cool. Rockey, the store manager from yesterday was probably right about the power converter. We’re starting to think that the fridge will have to be a pantry instead. Keep praying for us, we need to win the lotto (we’ve been playing in every state), we need the Bago to start, and we need to get moving or we could be out here for a long time…

It is 6:15pm here in Pacific, Missouri. We brought Helen to a mechanic’s shop called “The Shop” that was conveniently less than a quarter mile from where we decided we finally needed help. The people at “The Shop” were really nice. Dona the lady at the front desk took care of us in the waiting room. She offered us a stove for our Velveeta shells and cheese, chips and salsa leftover from the break room, a fridge to keep our cokes cold, and electricity to plug into to air condition the Winnebago. We were hesitant to ask for anything, but quick to take anything offered our way.
Being 35 years old makes ordering parts difficult. Two parts stores nearby didn’t have the right alternator for us, a creative makeshift combination of the old and new alternator proved to fit. The real test is ahead of us. We don’t know if it will charge our battery further down the road, but for now, it starts and it moves. So far today we’ve traveled roughly ten miles, but we may push through the night again. There is less traffic and we can go a little slower without making anyone mad.
Just one more paragraph to say how nice the people in Missouri are. Everyone is offering us help and genuine concern. Dona the desk lady and Dave the mechanic along with all the other guys here stayed late at the shop to help us get back on our way. They’re excited for us and we’re excited too. Getting back on the road will be a relief after a day full of stress and doubts.
Lessons learned, we are getting to know our vehicle a little better everyday. We know just how hard to push her and when we need to take breaks. When to add oil and when to change the fuel filters. We’ve made it through day three without buying a bus ticket home, I think we may get farther than you think…

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen
Pacific, Missouri
552 miles from home

June 13, later that day

June 13 (evening), 2007

The boys were tired from a full day of stop and go driving. The fuel filters were clogging up fast on the fresh, east end of historic route 66. A group of tired male high school graduates is a hungry group of boys. The quality of food and beverage has already become worse than the night before. The fridge hasn’t been plugged in since be left and the cooler cracked, spilling water, ice and deli meat onto the bathroom floor. Cookies, airheads, and scotch-a-roos have become dinner entrées already in our second day.
A stop at the “Loves” truck stop solved all of our problems. The 12v. power converter we had been using was enough to charge a cell phone here and there, but the stereo, fridge, laptops, and other necessities had been left powerless. There was a bigger, better converter in the store that we thought would power our Winnebago luxuries. Store manager Rockey supplied us with kind, but pessimistic advice, doubting our decision to buy a 400 watt converter. He was right, it didn’t work. But then a darker colored, even more powerful converter for the same price ($10.00 less after mail-in rebate) appeared in the display case. It was more difficult to install but we exchanged the 400 watt failure for the 500 watt powerhouse that would help us prove Rockey dead wrong. After a long break at the truck stop, we enjoyed cold beverages and non-melted candy bars. The laptops and phones stayed charged as the Winnebago (now called Helen) idled coarsely in front of “Loves” truck store. Another battle won in the name of Helen in this war against the road.
A few miles down the road, at the first light we encountered another minor set back, more exciting than troublesome. A side compartment containing a couple of car jacks and a shovel opened up and dropped cargo. Unsure if the boxes on the side of the road were ours or not, we made a quick right and a recovery team was launched out the side. Satisfied with the survival rate of our dropped luggage we regrouped and hopped back into Helen. A few on the run bottle rocket launches out the window, and everything is back to normal, as normal as things get in the Bago. Freshly cold mountain dews in hand for the first time since we left, we lug down the road towards Missouri, prepared for whatever our next state has to offer. Bring it on….

Winnebago Guys, from the desk of Aaron Tubergen
June 13, evening, 2007
North of Springfield, Illinois
395 miles from home

June 13

June 13, 2007

The first morning away from home was pretty laid back. Some of us slept in, but the crazier half went running. We all cleaned up a little in the Wal-Mart bathrooms (very nice by the way) and planned out the day.
Showers were top on the list of priorities. There was a lake nearby and a place called “Indiana Beach.” We wanted to take a dip and wash off there, but it turns out that the beach was inside some amusement park that we didn’t want to pay to get into. We traveled further up the river that fed into the lake, to take a bath. It was all private property and illegal to go into. We chose not to break any laws, and hit the road to make up for lost time.
On the road we stopped for a picture by the Illinois state border. The road was all cornfields to either side for miles. We parked just down the road from the “Welcome to Illinois” sign and walked. Six guys without shirts, with video cameras rolling, must have looked pretty suspicious because we got a lot of strange looks. One truck passed us going at least 60mph, made a hard stop, turned around, and offered us all a ride. We told him we were going to California in an RV just around the corner from where we were standing. He was a little jealous as he turned his truck and trailer around.
Just down the road we hit an overpass that crossed a small river. A perfect place to take a bath. We all hopped in suits grabbed some soap and took off to the Ol’ swimmin’ hole. The banks were just muk, but I think we made out a little cleaner than when we went in.
The rest of the day was spent on the road. The Bago, now named Helen, was giving us a little trouble. It died on us a couple times but “time heals all wounds” as the new motto goes. We are well on our way to Cali. The attitude of all the guys is good. We thought if we make it through the first few days, we can make it all the way. We’ve made it through the first two, we’re waiting to see what comes.


From Subway it’s the Winnebago Guys signing out,
Mclean, Illinois
About 320 miles (estimate) from home

June 12, 2007

Departure Day

A day of many emotions. Excitement, nervousness, joy, frustration, and more nervousness (in about that same order.) The trip started off great. Leaving Providence we stopped in Saugatuck to pick up a few last parts to add to the reserves. Moral was high among the Winnebago men as we hit the road, free from responsibility or commitment of any kind. Soon all of the shirts were strewn on the couches; a no shirt policy inside the Bago was quickly instituted. Windows open, music cranked (when the stereo worked) we worked our way south down I-96.
Our first stop, Niles. We were looking for a gas station when we came across our first unplanned adventure. A park with a playground, a river, and a skate park. The football, Frisbee, and parachute ninja quickly found there ways out of storage and were being tossed around in the mid-afternoon sun. A few pictures were taken, water bottles refilled, and we were on our way.
“I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be the first car in a traffic jam” Slower than most other vehicles on the road, the Winnebago upset a few other travelers sharing the road with us.
Thirty feet past the Michigan border, fireworks. The shirts went back on, and we all went firework shopping. Outside the store we took a picture with our bunker busters, black cats, moon riders, and Saturn rocket batteries in front of the Indiana border sign (shirts back off)
Leaving South Bend, we noticed the oil pressure was dipping. We stopped to add some oil and headed back on our way. It wasn’t until our next gas stop that we noticed we were leaking more fluid. We pulled into a truck stop, added more fluid, and let it cool down a little. We rode bikes around the parking lot, and pulled our fold up chairs down from the roof. 45-minutes later, we’re back on the road to test how fast we’re leaking. Our goal for the night was to reach Monticello, Indiana. New motto, “Time heals all wounds” so far it’s proven true.
We made it to Monticello at around 9:30 and started looking for a place to crash for the night. The dripping fluids from under the engine weren’t much of a concern anymore as was just stopped caring for the night. The nice lady at the police station gave us a list of places we could bring our RV but they all cost money, something we had spent a lot of on our first day. Stopping at a McDonalds to type this up, Micah discovered a Wal-Mart receipt under our table. We asked for directions to the nearest Wal-Mart, and found it just down the road.
The Wal-Mart parking lot became our home for the night. We set up the grill and chairs, ate brats and hot dogs until mid-night. A few phone calls from home, and a trip to the public bathrooms to wash up and we went to bed.
About eight hours and 196 miles from home we realized that our trip had finally become a reality. No parents or authority figures there to tell us what to do, no school work that had to be done, no overtime to be had, we finally made it out.

Winnebago Guys,
Monticello, Indiana
196 miles driven

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