An adventure driving the Fungus South

[Howdy]

Beware when your dreams are realized, sometimes you get just what you deserve. Going on a road trip has always been a passion, and to travel in an RV  has been something I have wanted to do for a long time.  Covering the roads filled with changing landscape and with interesting locations to be explored is my idea of fun.  To be able to stop when ever and where ever the mood of the moment dictates may not allow you cover a lot of miles but you will enjoy the buffalo jerky or truck stops complete with a constant supply of road food you find in questionable yet promising places with tires for walls, potholes deep enough to swallow small cars and signs offering everything imaginable. 

So after watching the shipping website for possible runs, I found an RV that needed to be delivered to LA and it was close to my home outside of Portland Oregon.  The shipper was offering $750 for delivery but every other delivery company wanted more than $1000 so here was my chance.  I bid just what the shipper offered and he jumped on it.  I might have known there may be a hiccup or two but I was dumb and ready to go.  To my credit, I did advise the shipper I would drive 200 – 300 miles a day and it would that me five days to travel the 1000 miles to LA and I would leave in a few days.   

So the day to leave arrived at last.  My family made sure I was packed, medicated, advised, fed, and had a clean pair of underwear.  They took me to the mechanic who had done some work and was waiting for me to pick it up. I had seen a picture of the RV and it looked like a promising vehicle for the journey however when I arrived to pit it up it was nowhere to be found.  I went into the office and advised the staff that I was here to get the RV scheduled to go to LA.  Suddenly big grins broke  ;D out and a fellow ran for the keys  smiley_horserider explaining he would bring it around.  Soon there was an RV ready for the tow truck to take it to the wreaking yard where the rest of the dismantling would happen brought around to the door. 

Now understand some people may take a little poetic license when describing something and to say the shipper was a gifted artist was an understatement.  The picture and the real thing resembled each other only in that both showed an RV that was built on a Ford truck frame and had several wheels.  Before me was something that had not survived several wrecks and brushes with disaster.  From the perfect shape of a tree in the front bumper to the hole in the roof at the back of the cabin each panel had it's own story to tell.  Then when the side door opened the interior had a whole new chapter of wonder.  As broken dishes, discarded beer can, empty containers, and things I could not identify spilled out my family ran back to their car.  I was in a state of shock.  They were in a state far away and traveling fast.  The RV was in a state of it's own.  And the mechanic was nowhere to be found.   The RV quickly earned the name "The Fungus".   

I could not (well I could but I was committed or should be) leave it there as I had accepted the contract to deliver it South so I put on a brave face even while my heart was skipping beats and I smiled at my family and hopped in to clear a place for my stuff.  A little fact I had omitted that bears relevance is that my 15 year old grandson was to travel with me.  He was sitting in the car with the doors locked and his seat belt on tight.  With enough coaching he did get in the RV and tried to loose himself in a video game if only to block out the reality of his Grandfathers scams. My daughter found a first aid kit and many wet wipes and forced them into my trembling hands explaining that I would not may need them. 

So off we went, rocking and banging down the road.  With the back bedroom a total ruin we kept to the front and tried not to move too much.  The engine ran strong and the fuel gauge read full.  We were on the road.  While we could move, stopping the RV was not quite like dropping anchor rather it was more akin to tossing out a ball of yarn and hoping it snags something before it stretches so much that you merge with the cars, trucks or structures ahead.    The mechanic who was only too glad to get the RV off his property said it had "Soft" brakes which I quickly figured out meant none. Not weak but none - what – so – ever unless your idea of slowing was glacier like.  I pitied the Mechanic his position: The Dealer wasn't going to pay any more to make the vehicle safe and it was large enough and ugly enough to be visible no matter how far from the road he parked it. Potential customers would see the Fungus and keep driving no matter how badly they needed repairs. 

My grandson and I went down the highway traveling South on I5 until I reached about 50 miles an hour when the hood popped open and totally blocked my view of the road.  By looking under the gap at the bottom of the windshield I was able to drive it to the side of the road.  No rope was to be found so I used my Leatherman tool (never leave home without it) and bent the latch forward enough to lightly catch and away we went again.  Just to be sure of it I stopped for fuel a few miles away and visited the trucking store where I purchased a budgie cord and some duct tape ( never leave home without it).  The gauge read full but it still took the first of many dollars worth of diesel fuel.  I stopped at $50 bucks but still had no idea how much it held.  I checked the tires and every door latch before I got back inside.  There my grandson who was pale and looking like he was about to throw-up advised me he needed to go back home showing that he was the smarter one of the two of us.  I turned around and retraced my path all the way home wishing I could stay there myself. 

Back home my DEAR WIFE whom I am so indebted to helped me clean the Fungus a little more before I resumed my journey.  I stopped at the same truck stop and put another $25 bucks of fuel in until it wouldn't take any more.  Hoping this meant I was full I vowed to stop in 200 miles just to be sure.  Off I went again.  Along with me I brought a new old fashioned CD player and several books on disc because the Fungus lacked a working radio or CD player.  I put in the first disc and off to Mars I went with Robert Heinlein.  Old school science fiction was just the thing I needed to pass the time.  At the 200 mile mark the fuel gauge had just began to move downward so I felt it may be indicating the correct amount of diesel in the tank.  The engine was running strong, the brakes were absent, and the cabin hadn't fallen apart completely yet. 

As my start was so much later than I had hoped I was far behind schedule.  However I was the one who had made the schedule so who cared.  Sleeping in the RV had always been the plan but then I met the Fungus and that idea was forgotten.  I spent the first night in a Motel 6 where they didn't leave the light on for me. For $50 bucks I wasn't expecting too much and it met every expectation I had.  It was clean enough (never watch Hotel Impossible on TV if you are picky) and I got a good nights sleep.  Early Wednesday morning I was back on the road.  Throughout the day I snacked on the box of stuff the family had packed so I was able to save a little by not stopping at restaurants.   That afternoon I got sleepy so I stopped at a rest area and found a bunk above the drivers seat where it looked like I might not die before I awoke so I spread out my blankets and took a nap.  After a couple of hours I was able to hit the road again.  I drove into the night and decided to continue on I5 all the way rather than take highway 99 through the towns.  I had hoped to see some sights but given the Fungus' reluctance to stop felt safer on the freeway where traffic was all moving at the same pace.  I was averaging 60 miles an hour traveling with the trucks which allowed me not to worry about fast moving cars.  It was a comfortable pace and put my mind at ease.   The Fungus kinda goes where it wants to go without warning.  Sure, you may think you are giving it directions by turning the steering wheel but it is as subject to interpretation as reading the Bible.  You may mean well but what happens is not often the desired action.  Between the bumps, grooves and repairs that gave up long ago the road is something that can be as madding as reading braille with a pickle. 

After watching the painted lines flow under the Fungus for so many hours that I couldn't remember what day it was I stopped about 100 miles North of LA and treating myself to a real meal.  My family sent along enough road food that I have been eating stuff that Mother never would allow.  The beef jerky and nuts are fine but I brought far too many crackers and not enough carrots.  Fresh vegetables and milk, that's what I want. 


Going on a road and taking battery operated devices is fraught with disaster.  First my tooth brush just stopped it's zillion revolutions per minute and I was reduced to putting paste on a tiny spot and actually moving the brush back and forth (sorry – up and down) without help.  Next my razor just refused to turn  on at all.  Perhaps it misses it's home... I know I sure do.  Getting some duct tape proved to be indispensable as by the time I reach LA many of the outside doors were taped closed, the hood was FIRMLY taped down and I was ready to spread some more if the need arose. 

I arrived in LA two days early and found the shippers location using old fashioned maps.  No GPS for me I am still old school (one room at that).  Rolling into the yard I saw many other RV's that needed repair, lots of repair.  When the workers got sight of the Fungus it did give them a moment of pause.  Then the muttering began, something about how the owner would buy anything.  I announced I had just brought the Fungus down from Portland and the look of astonishment was clear they wouldn't have trusted it themselves.  Of course the owner didn't remember he had promised me he would reimburse me for the fuel costs and after some "discussion" we arrived at splitting the cost between us.  At least I would not lose out completely that way so I counted myself ahead of the game.  I was given a ride to the airport (something I had failed to tell the owner was that I needed to go the LAX two hours away not the close one so the driver got an afternoon off at least).

At the airport I learned I could not change my ticket for a flight that day as the penalties would have been more than the cost of a new ticket.  So I had two days to kill in Sunny LA weather I wanted to or not.  I got a shuttle ride to the hotel and called it a night.     

Being in LA without a car is a blessing and a curse.  The blessing is that everyone drives like mad men with a death wish.  The curse is that everything is so spread out that getting there by bus or taxi is either to complicated or costly.  I looked into taking a tour but didn't care about seeing the Star's homes or where they were buried and I was just not into finding a hooker or drug dealer to do business with.  As I am still old school (one room) I don't have a Smart phone so getting an Uber ride was not possible however the hotel front desk person took pity on my and used her phone to call a ride for me to go to the one place I wanted to see: The Farmers Market.  Soon I was picked up by a gal so may have had a death wish or thought she was destined to win some short track dirt car race.  She drove with crossed arms the right had operating the turn signal and the left at the top of the steering wheel in a constant flurry of movement (reminded me of the crossed bones on a pirate flag flapping in the wind).  As we darted from lane to lane her head was swiveling so fast I was sure it would spin off at any moment.  I resigned myself to hoping the accident we were soon to have would guarantee my pain and suffering would pay out like a lottery machine.  Somehow we arrived at the Market un-wrecked but I did need to wait until my shaking subsided enough to stand. 

Once there I found out what I thought a farmers market wasn't the same as the one found in LA.  Two or three fresh produce stands stood at one side with the rest of the vendors covering a football field size area being eating places.  Wandering through isles filled with hundreds of people were mini restaurants catering to varieties covering everything imaginable. There were places serving African food next to fancy French dining, and Hot Dog stands or vendors selling Hot Sauces that would blister paint?  I enjoyed a simple sandwich and enjoyed watching the masses of people flow through the market. 

The ride back was completely different as my driver was a relaxed fellow who took traffic in stride.  Gone were the frenetic lane changes he drove in a smooth and comfortable style.  This allowed the opportunity for conversation and I learned his preferred job was acting as a stunt man in movies and TV.  When acting jobs were slow he paid the bills driving.  Meeting the fabled wanna-be upcoming movie star was enjoyable.  When asked how I would be able to tell it was him in the movies he said whenever he was killed he would "die" with a thumb sticking up.  So from now on I need to watch for severed limbs and dead or wounded actors with their thumbs erect.  His personal trade mark! 

Once back at the hotel I was set upon by a "homeless" family with kids selling 50 cent candy for a buck and a grandmother who has cancer wanting a meal.  The father was of course a "veteran" who felt I owed him something for serving and took a unhappy opinion of me when I didn't give him some cash.  I asked the hotel about them and leaned they have a very nice apartment behind the hotel and working the street was a good source of income. 

Where I live outside Portland Oregon the local airport PDX is a pleasant and comfortable mid-sized air terminal.  It serves many airlines and is easy to get to, easy to park, and easy to stroll around in.  LAX is a BIG airport. I don't know how many terminals or building it has but just the traffic getting to the terminal that serves my airline was more harried than any rush-hour freeway at home.  I knew I was in for a hike so rather than paying for a luggage cart I looked for people leaving and snagged a loose one at the curb for free.  After getting checked in with the airline I wanted to wander the shopping experience but instead I was directed to go to the gate I would be leaving from.  Getting through TSA screening took a little effort but the workers were pleasant and I made it through with my underwear still on.  The only place to eat near my gate was a Burgerking where a burger cost $11.  Glad I didn't want anything expensive or was very hungry.  As I waited I guarded my bags with care least someone put a bomb or drug bundles in them so at least I had something to do. 

Once I got on the plane I kinda expected to be next to a toilet and stuffed into a seat that is made for a child which I am not so much.  I may have a child's mind but my body is more like a heifer than a caff.  Or maybe more resembling a Hippopotamus...  The gate staff had indicated I would be sitting alone so I would have some room to spread out or so I thought.  Sitting and waiting for several hours gave me a chance to watch the people around me.  The gate was in a round room about 200 feet across with many gates on the outside edge and room for 400-500 or so people inside.  I was sitting next to a couple who were elderly and spoke no English.  They were visible nervous and tried to engage me in conversation.  I learned they were going to Portland on the same plane as I so I assured them I would help them however I could.  Later I tried to "help" them board the wrong plane as I thought we had been called but the airline staff refused us at the gate much to my surprise.  The couple may have lost a little faith in me helping them but soon the gate person came over and took us to the the airplane before any other passengers were allowed to board.  We were well cared for and all was well with smiles all around. 

Once back in Portland I was planing on getting home using a light rail train as it goes from the airport to within ½ mile of my house but of course difficulties presented themselves once again.  While I was on the correct train there was a detour in the downtown part of Portland.  Trains were prevented from passing through due to construction so a shuttle bus was in place for part of the journey.  As this was a very temporary problem there was little in the way of directions or information.  The passengers were just directed to exit the train and transfer to a shuttle bus to reach the other side and continue the trip.  No signage was present as to where to catch the shuttle, so I wandered around several blocks with my luggage in hand.  It took a while but I found my way at last, so hopefully I would be sleeping in my own bed that night I thought.  However with my luck probably under a bridge somewhere in the Midwest.

Now that I am home I just might break even money wise this trip.  The extra expenses have eaten away my profit and having to pay for lodging, food and shipping the can of Green Olives with the jar of Pumpkin Butter I got for the mother-in-law was something I didn't plan for.  Note to self:  remember flying with cans of olives and jars of pumpkin butter will not allow you to get on the airplane. My wife asked if I had gotten the thought of traveling and making money out of my system yet but I refused to even think of it until after I visited the Doctor and got my shots.

[DanG]

Wow what a story!  I think I had more fun at the hospital with my wife than you had on that trip. :D :D :D

[red]

No pictures ?

[WV Sawmiller]

    Great play by play there. I am glad you let us share. Keep us in the loop in how this new career works out for you.

[thecfarm]

I sure do hope you share another dream with us.  ;D    That is quite the story!!!!!!!!

[samandothers]

I enjoyed this story as much as your description of the train trip to the Pig Roast.

[Magicman]

Thank You my Friend for sharing your adventure!  Pat and I got many chuckles from your descriptive writing.   

[sandhills]

Yes, thank you.  There for a minute I thought you were talking about pretty much every vehicle I've owned  ;D.

[Grandpa]

I really enjoy your stories Howdy, please keep them coming.

I think most of us have been on similar "missions" but very few can tell the tale like you can. :D

[dgdrls]

A life experience and you're no worse for it,
It seems Mr. Gump was correct,  but I think we all learn that eventually;)

thanks for sharing
best
D