Where's the car?

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Day two. We were both so tired that we slept like a couple of old dogs and woke up feeling rested and ready to tackle the day. After a shower, coffee and breakfast we made our way out to Winsalot Stables to see Jeff and Kristy Leech and looked at some young horses. John, unable to contain his enthusiasum for his newfound avocation suggested that we leave Arab and start on our way to Cartersville, Georgia. I agreed and we set about planning our route. Now, we have some new-fangled GPS software waiting for us at the house in Vero Beach (we decided we knew how to get to Florida when we ordered it so we had it sent there...not smart) so we are relying on the Tom Tom GPS unit to tell us what turns to take from Arab to Cartersville.

Disclaimer: If you are a fan of Tom Tom you may not want to read any more of this post. This is not a testamonial to its effectiveness.

So we talked to John's friend Jeff about which was the best route between Arab and Cartersville and not only got good advice but a personal escort for about 20 miles to put us on the correct highway. Jeff is a great guy. From there we were to rely on maps and the Tom Tom. So we walked through our pre-launch routine ritual...slides in, cabinets secured, Aqua Hot off, water pump on, shore power disconnected, etc., hooked up the car and checked the transmission pump monitor.

Sidebar: When we had the Camry outfitted for pulling one of the necessary elements was a transmission pump required because it has an automatic transmission. They installed a transmission pump monitor on the dash board of the coach. If it should stop pumping for any reason the alarm goes off so that you don't tear up the transmission. Also on the unit is a green light (everything is cool) a yellow light (everything is not cool) and a red light (something is very wrong!!).

Our first crisis of the day came when John hooked the car to the coach and the yellow and green light came on together. It was immediate mayhem. John freaked out dashing back and forth from the coach to the car to the coach to the car while our pilot car (Jeff in his Durango) waited patiently. There were lots of big sighs and lots of angst and swearing. So I got up and went to get the Super Bible. Actually there are two. Monaco provides coach owners with two file boxes that have dividers in them (like, Furnace, Washer/Dryer, Aladdin System, Television and so on) that have the specific manuals for each system in the coach. After we had the transmission pump installed I put the owner's manual in one of the file boxes. For me this is where Murphy's Law s always takes effect. If I'm looking for something in one box, without fail I will pick the other box. And they are jammed into an overhead cabinet and weigh 10 pounds each so getting them out has been an ordeal. So now I'm swearing and jerking the file box to get it out and when I do I discover that I have the wrong one. More swearing and jerking and I finally got the proper box with the proper owner's manual and flipped quickly to the troubleshooting section. It has instructions for when a red light is on and instructions for when a yellow light is on but not when a yellow light and a green light are on together. But what it does say is DO NOT tow the vehicle if there is anything but a green light on. Time to call Dan's Hitch in Elkhart, Indiana (the installers of the unit). After green light/yellow light pandmonium the gentleman at Dan's Hitch had John shut off the engine of the coach and restart it. Green light. When in doubt...reboot. John complimented the man by calling him a genius and we were on our way to Cartersville. Breezy, who has to be the most unflappable Border Collie alive, was snug in her bed during the entire Chinese fire drill. Smart dog.

Later we are buckled in to our cushy leather seats and rolling down the beautiful back roads of Alabama while I worked on how to get the iPod to play randomly through the radio. For some reason when I hook it up it will only work off of the playlists. With my slightly obsessive personality I just can't be satisfied with that. I have to know why it won't play randomly, if it will play randomly, how it will play randomly and/or why the hell won't it play randomly. Kenwood seriously needs to hire the people at Monaco to write their instruction manual. Kenwood's is useless. Every time I made an adjustment on the touch screen it started playing the classical playlist. I like classical music sometimes...but not all the time. The first song on the playlist is Serenade G, K 525 "Eine Kleine...". It is lively...DA, daDA....dadadadadaDA! Well you get the general idea. Every time I tried a new button on the touch screen Eine Kleine... started playing. After about ten beginnings of Eine Kleine I was ready to rip the radio out of the dashboard.

In the mean time we are getting closer to our destination, a KOA camp in Cartersville. I made a reservation online...so handy and we are now card carrying members of KOA. And Flying J RV Club. And Good Sam RV Club. And Family Motor Coach Association. It seems that everyone who has owned an RV has a better idea than the last person of which is the best organization to belong to. As you can tell we have solicted lots of opinions. My junk mail volume has increased exponentially with each membership, to the point where my mail man won't smile...in fact he won't speak to me anymore. I'm sure he thinks I'm the junk mail queen of the neighborhood. I'm sure I am.

So anyway, we are getting to the point where we know we are close to where we need to be and we begin to rely on Tom Tom for directions. As we approach a sizable interchange John's good instincts tell him that we should ignore Tom Tom and take the turn off for Interstate 75. I argue that Tom Tom says that we should pass up that golden opportunity to do the right thing and go straight for another two miles and take the directed route. Tom Tom is chattering directions (in a half mile turn right on such and such a road...) and when we get a look at the road we both decide that it looks more like a cow trail than a road...definetly not for a 42 foot BUS with a car attached to the back. Now Tom Tom starts badgering us that we missed our turn and directs us to the next one all the while, like a dog on a bone, I'm messing with the radio and repeatedly getting Eine Kleine... AAAAARRRRGGG!!!! We arrive at the next Tom Tom required turn and it is a total hairpin turn onto another cow trail. We quickly confer and pass it up in favor of trying the next one. Tom Tom is ragging on us that we missed the turn and now I'm trying to find our location on the Rand McNally map to see where we are in relation to I-75 (the KOA is a quarter mile off of Exit 296). There are no road signs and Tom Tom has gone passive agressive and refuses to tell me what road we are on. Now we are yelling at Tom Tom like it is a person...a person that we dislike immensely..."Oh shut up you useless piece of crap!" and "Tell me what road we are on you moronic chatterbox!!" and so on. I can tell that John is getting a little past stressed out. The big sighs are coming at shorter intervals. So we decide that the only good option is to turn around and go back to the original I-75 turn off that he wanted to take in the fifteen miles (and two and a half gallons of diesel) ago. Good plan. Next problem: Where do we turn this land yacht around out here in the middle of nowhere? Suddenly dead ahead, as though a motor coach angel was looking after us, there was a turn out large enough to make a U-turn. John slowed the coach down and eased it off of the road into the turn out. When we drove off of the crown of the road the entire coach rocked from side to side. Remember in our Maiden Voyage installment when I said that "nothing moved...it was a miracle" ? Well I heard everything move in the cabinets, dishes, cups, supplies, food in the fridge, you name it and it MOVED. But we got back on the road toward the Interstate (blessed Interstates). I made a damage control run though the coach and plunked back in my cushy seat while Breezy watched. I swear I think I saw her shake her head.

After a few more miles both of our heart rates were beginning to return to normal and we were appreciating the scenery again as we rolled down the road toward our turn off. It was great. It was cool. The stupid Tom Tom was now off, I had given up on the iPod project (for the moment...I'll be back at it again soon...you can take it to the bank) and we are getting ready to turn onto the road that will take us to I-75. I glanced over at the Aladdin monitor (it has a rear camera view) as I do every so often to be sure that the little car is still upright and tagging along behind us. I freeze. The air won't move in my lungs, my heart won't beat and I'm supressing a primal scream. There is no car in the monitor. I don't want to believe my eyes. I TRULY DO NOT WANT TO BELIEVE MY EYES. No car. My eyes bug and I blink and when I look again there's still no car. And there isn't any traffic beind us. It's all gone! I look at John and he seems calm. My mind immediately creates an image. My little Camry is sitting in the middle of the road where we made the U-turn and it is smashed to smithereens holding up traffic...the reason there is no traffic behind us. Insurance nightmares loom large. How will we get around town? Not in this BUS! You can't turn it around unless you have an empty Walmart parking lot. We would have to call a cab to go the the freaking grocery store! It is absolutely astounding how many scenarios one can create in one's mind within ten seconds of a perceived disaster. Before I scream,"Where is the CAR!!!????" I realize that he has the turn signal on. The smart system (this BUS is so damn smart it's scary) has turned the rear monitor off and turned the left camera on to give John the view of the left side of the coach as he turns. Marvels of engineering these coaches are. I break into hysterical laughter, tears streaming down my face probably as a release of the adrenaline blast that I just experienced. My husband thinks I've lost my mind and Breezy (this dog is amazing) is still lying on her bed looking at me like its time to call the paramedics and have me hauled off to the asylum. After I explain why I'm laughing like a mad woman he laughed with me....or maybe at me. At any rate he laughed.

We found the KOA and while John was working with the campground manager to figure out why we had snowy cable television I got the bright idea to drive to the local Walmart Super Center to pick up a few supplies. As you can probably tell this hasn't been a stellar day for me so far. And I topped it off with a trip to Walmart in rural Georgia at 5:30 in the evening. I probably don't have to paint you a picture. It was six miles from the KOA and I didn't get back to the campground for an hour and a half. It was the scariest Walmart that I've been in to date. When I returned I went directly to the cabinet in the galley that holds the jug of Chevas Regal, poured us each a Scotch (mine was a double) and we toasted getting to the KOA safe and sound.

I'm starting to love this coach already. It's great. It's quiet, comfortable and has every amenity that one could imagine. And we only called Dennis once today! Oh, and Roger in Oregon once. John says that everyone at Monaco Coach must go to charm school before they can start work there. I agree.

Tomorrow we get a day off from the road to go and look at horses and rest our nerve endings. On Friday we are off to Wildwood, Florida....ON THE INTERSTATE!! Yes!!! I'll report on our trip on the next post!