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
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
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
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
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
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
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