THE SMALLER ROAD

By Kyle Doyle - 11/15/07

In today’s hustle-bustle world, America’s interstate system is worth its weight in gold, both literally and figuratively. The vehicles found on the road today are capable of legally cruising at speeds that were only attainable by race cars fifty or sixty years ago, when the interstates first underwent construction. Now, the design of America’s highways have caught up to the performance of today’s vehicles, allowing commuters and commercial business the ability to cover distances efficiently and affordably (though everything is relative, I suppose). While this is great when you are trying to make time and cover large distances in as short of a time as possible, the major downside is the overall blandness of the journey. Endless stretches of straight four-lane, never-ending billboards and signs, and the always-frustrating construction zones are everyday features that make the Interstate system mind-numbingly boring most of the time, at least for this reporter.

Even as a child growing up in Missouri, the thrill of being on the smaller roads was unmistakable. There was always so much more to see, so much more to do, and so much more to talk about with your traveling companions. Every summer when I was young, my grandparents and I would make a number of trips from their home in Kansas City to their summer home on the Lake of the Ozarks in central MO. At the time (and as is still the case today), no major interstates pass through that area of the country, so the smaller back roads made up the bulk of our journey. While I may have taken them for granted at the time, things like roadside produce stands, small mom and pop corner stores, and family farms aren’t something I get to really enjoy anymore when traveling. Produce stands have been replaced by chain grocery stores, and corner shops traded in for truck stops. While it isn’t often necessary or efficient to travel off the big roads in our semis, I realize now more than ever that I’ve always had a fascination for the smaller road.

 
Following the Ringgold, GA event, I attended a one day car-crush with Geremie in Pryor, OK, followed by the inaugural (again) Springfield, IL 4-Wheel Jamboree event. Though one would expect me to have a lot to say about a Jamboree weekend, let’s just say that this reporter doesn’t have a whole lot to say about it, thanks largely in part to Mother Nature’s meteorological blitzkrieg that kept the monsters from being able to do anything more than sloppy freestyles all weekend long. Suffice it to say, I was well and truly sick of mud by the time we were finished cleaning up the mess in the days following the event. On top of that, we had a team photo shoot scheduled in our hometown for the Tuesday following the Jambo. By the time all of that was said and done, I was more than ready to head south to warmer and drier climes; it was time again for my annual trip to Longview, TX with the R/T.

As Dale and I merged onto Interstate 57 south early one morning in late June, we had little idea that a sizeable portion of our drive to Longview, TX would take place on some of Arkansas’ smaller roads. Our journey was relatively uneventful until we were about sixty miles into AR on Interstate 40; that’s when déjà vu struck me. Two years ago, on my first trip to Jack ‘O Diamonds Dodge in Longview, Travis and I were driving through this very same stretch of I-40 between Memphis and Little Rock, when the call came over the CB radio that there was a huge traffic backup heading west, just outside of Little Rock. Pressed for time and with darkness setting in, Travis and I quickly referenced the atlas and discovered a state highway that ran parallel to I-40 that looked like it would take us right around the traffic, and then dump us back on I-40 just before getting into Little Rock, at which point we would merge onto I-30. Our short-notice detour worked perfectly, so I filed that into the back of my mind for later use. And it’s a good thing I did…

Why? Because that familiar call came out on the CB as Dale and I sped down the I-40 corridor, and we quickly grabbed our atlas to plan a detour. With the schedule we were trying to adhere to, sitting in a three to four hour traffic backup simply was not acceptable. It’s hard on equipment, and hard on people. I dredged from my memory my trip with Travis, and we exited at the proper intersection that would deposit us on our precious side road. As we exited, a dually pulling a camper trailer and a flat-bed semi truck decided to take their chances following us, in hopes that we actually knew what we were doing. It turns out that we did, but so did about five million other motorists, who were getting off the road at exits farther down the I-40 stretch. Before long, traffic began to back up on our once lonely state highway, and it became apparent that we were going to be forced to sit in traffic, one way or another.

Inspiration in the form of a CB conversation with the dually behind us led us to consider an alternate route to the already alternative route we were on. Taking our conversation to an unused CB channel to avoid the verbal commotion taking place on the public channel, the drivers in the dually, Dale, and I worked out a path that would normally be too time consuming to take when compared to the interstate; but once stacked up against a three hour delay, it became quite appealing. Our decision made, we hooked a left and headed south, away from the traffic debacle and towards Pine Bluff. Although our new route was far from a two-lane goat path (it was smoother at times than I-40!), it was a hugely refreshing break from the normal doldrums of interstate travel. I once again was immersed in the lush countryside, the mom and pop stores, the family farms, and the road-side produce peddlers. Driving a semi can be challenging at times, but I take pleasure in being able to skillfully navigate a 75ft long rig down a smaller road, trading my cruise control for my split-shift switch. I take a lot of satisfaction in nailing every downshift and smoothly gliding around every curve.
 

After a few invigorating hours of driving on the smaller roads, we reached I-30, a good distance southwest of Little Rock. Over the course of the previous few hours, we had made “radio buddies” with the dually occupants and the flat bed semi that were trailing us. We decided to stop at a truck stop in Hope, AR (birthplace of Bill Clinton) for a late dinner, and to re-stock our supply of caffeine-enhanced beverages (coffee for me, Mtn. Dew for Dale). We made official introductions in the parking lot after landing our respective rigs, and then headed in to eat. After an enjoyable dinner with some new friends, it was back on the road for us. By the time we reached Longview some three hours later, we had been on the road (me doing all of the driving, mind you) for some sixteen hours. The last hour and a half of the trip involved more smaller roads in Texas, but at night the enjoyment factor went away some, and I pretty much switched over to “get it done” mode.
 

From our very first visit to Jack ‘O Diamonds Dodge a few years ago, the dealership has always been very accommodating and well-prepared for us. This time would be no exception, as a sizeable chunk of the lot was already cleared out for us, making it as easy as possible to get the rig in place and parked. They even left a brand-new ’07 Ram keyed up for us, in case we needed to go get something to eat (which by this point, we were too tired to even do that). Before calling it a night (or morning, rather, as it was 1am), Dale and I took a stroll around the building to stretch our legs and backs out a bit, and to inhale some fresh air. While walking around the back of the shop area, we noticed an old Dodge Ram Charger sitting in the overflow lot. We immediately decided to check it out, and much to our surprise it was in outstanding shape, both inside and out. Aside from flat tires and a motor that had been scavenged for parts and wiring, it appeared to be a pretty straight truck. Not long after popping the hood, however, we realized that it was time to head back to the semi, as angry wasps began to appear, no doubt upset with us for waking them up at such an ungodly hour. It seems as though they had decided to make the under hood area of the Ram Charger their home. Dale and I quickly decided to leave them to get their beauty sleep.
 

The rest of the weekend in Longview went as well as could be hoped for, aside from the searing heat that the area has become known for in my notebook. On Friday, I asked the used car manager about the Ram Charger, and he said he had been wanting to get rid of it, and would let it go for $350. Ummm…..sold! I’ve been looking for a project truck for some time now, and this one fit the bill almost perfectly, what with the outstanding condition it was in and all. Plus, the price was certainly right. Buying it was the easy part, but the hard part still lay ahead of us: getting it in the trailer.
 

The trailer I haul the R/T in is equipped with a four-post Stinger car lift, which we use on occasion to haul a car with us. Well, the problem is, a 4x4 Ram Charger, even with flat tires, is considerably taller than a Dodge Neon or Chrysler Sebring. So, Dale and I tapped into our reservoirs of resourcefulness, and came up with a way to haul the truck that we weren’t exactly sure would work until we got almost everything loaded into the trailer. The Ram Charger would have to go into the trailer second (after the tires), so with the assistance of a push truck and an old junk truck tire, we pushed the Ram Charger as far as we could up into the trailer. We then moved the ramps from the rear of the trailer and hooked them onto the edge of the car lift platform, which would allow us to bridge the height gap between the ramps the Ram Charger was sitting on, and the car lift platform. The reason for this nearly three foot gap was the fact that the monster truck’s tires had to be loaded first. When standing up like normal, the monster truck tires were too tall to fit under the car lift with the Ram Charger in the trailer, so to solve this height quandary we laid three of the monster truck tires over on their sidewalls in the area they would normally stand up in. This allowed us to lower the lift far enough down that the Ram Charger would clear the ceiling with ease. The hard part would be winching the Ram Charger up the movable ramps, from the permanent ramps that the truck was sitting on to the car lift platform. Did I mention we didn’t have any sort of winch to use? Dale and I fought with ratchet straps and a come-a-long device for the better part of two grueling hours filled with sweat, blood, and curse words in the searing Texas heat. Finally, after we got the truck up on to the car lift and had it strapped down, it began to rain. Not just any old rain storm, but a full-on monsoon-like blast. This was the kind of rainstorm you’d see terrorizing Bangladesh on CNN.
 

Aside from getting us wet, the other inconvenient part about the rainstorm was the fact that the monster truck, one monster truck tire, the jack, the pit cart, the ladder, and both air hoses were still waiting to be loaded. We hurriedly loaded everything as fast as we could, until we reached the final remaining monster truck tire. There had not been room for the tire in the middle of the trailer under the car lift, so we decided that we might be able to lay it down in the back of the trailer behind the monster truck. Well, it was now time for the moment of truth. After about 15 minutes of rocking, wiggling, grunting, and cussing, we finally had the last tire secured…a mere three inches from the inside of the back doors. Ahhh. Success. After severely questioning my $350 purchase for the last three and a half hours, I was finally convinced that it was worth the effort. And besides, we had a neat war story to tell now.

Not long after returning home from Longview, it was time for our annual 4th of July celebration in the team’s hometown of Rantoul. As we have for the past few years, we drove the R/T through the impressively large parade, and then gave rides for a few hours in a city parking lot, accompanied by a Raminator car crush by Mark Hall. Much like in Texas, the heat was severe, to the point that I think it actually hurt attendance a little bit, as people just couldn’t bear the heat for any real period of time.

Just a couple of days after the Rantoul gig, I headed off by myself to Muskegon, MI to participate in the final three days of the 15th annual Muskegon Summer Celebration. Billed as “The Big Party”, the Summer Celebration is an 11-day music-oriented festival that brings in some of the biggest names in music each year, as well as loads of talented local and regional bands. Chrysler sponsors the main stage of the event, a beautiful canopied outdoor pavilion that was finished in 1996. What makes this event even more appealing (especially to a music geek like me), is that Muskegon lies on the western coast of Michigan; the festival grounds themselves are right on the shores of Muskegon Lake, which connects various parts of the town to Lake Michigan. Heritage Landing, as it is called, couldn’t be a better place to host a festival of this caliber.

Friday morning, as I navigated my transporter up US-31 heading north out of Benton Harbor, MI, I quickly glanced back over some of the information I had printed out about the event off of various websites. I was nothing less than disappointed to have missed some of the music acts that had taken stage earlier in the week; however, I was quite excited about the coming evening’s act. The Friday night entertainment in Muskegon would be none other than the blues legend B.B. King himself. Saturday night would find the modernized INXS hitting the stage, while Sunday night’s closing act (and the closing act for the entire festival) would be The New Cars, featuring Todd Rundgren as lead vocalist. I’ve always been a mild fan of the Cars’ work, so I thought it might be pretty neat to see how their current incarnation (or re-incarnation, if you will) would stack up. Former Cars singer Ric Ocasek’s voice had always been a huge part of The Cars’ sound, but I figured of all the people who could carry that load, Todd Rundgren would probably be as good of a candidate as any.
 

So, with all these thoughts of musical bliss floating through my mind, I had to work just a tiny bit harder to concentrate on the monster-truck related tasks at hand. I was scheduled to be on static display Friday evening, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday, the only break in that schedule being the Saturday morning parade that the R/T and I would be leading. While I’m perfectly capable of handling the static display work alone, I needed an RII operator/spotter to help me through the parade, and with our team being stretched thin that particular weekend, I called a favor in to Jeff and Jocelyn Perrin. I’m very fortunate to be able to count the Perrin family among my closest friends in the monster truck industry, and their Lil’ Miss Dangerous truck has become one of my favorite trucks to root for, outside of our stable of Dodge monsters. A pair of Disney music celebrities, Corbin Bleu of “High School Musical” and Jordan Pruitt would be serving as Grand Marshals of the parade from the back of the R/T; needless to say, as soon as Jeff and Jocelyn’s daughters Natalie and Cassie found out about this, they decided that they had better come to the gig as well. Jeff’s father helped us get our passengers loaded, and then found himself a spot to enjoy the parade from while the rest of us took our places at the front of it.

Jeff, Jos, and Natalie rode in a Ram Mega Cab that led the R/T through the parade, while Cassie took the shotgun seat in the R/T. Cassie was all smiles almost the entire parade, as she happily clutched her autographed Corbin Bleu picture. The parade was slow moving due to the phenomenal turn-out, and at the end we were led to a private, gated parking lot where the celebrities would be picked up by a waiting van and taken back to the concert grounds. After parking the R/T and unloading our passengers, I was very surprised to see that both Corbin and Jordan were taking lots of time to talk to Natalie and Cassie, even posing for pictures and signing more autographs. Needless to say, I was impressed at their level of approachability. Not wanting to feel left out, Jeff and I figured we should probably have our pictures taken with the two teenage idols, even though I still don’t have much of a clue as to who they really are or what they really do. I guess I’m just an out of touch old guy, eh?

After returning the R/T to its static display location at the concert venue, I enjoyed a relaxing lunch with the Perrins, something that none of us usually get to partake at the races. At the end of lunch, over-stuffed and ready for a nap, I made my way back to the truck, and spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out and mingling with various Summer Celebration staff and volunteers, as everyone made final preparations for the evening’s concert goers. My contact at the event was a middle-aged gentleman by the name of Pat, and I must thank him once again for completely hooking me up all weekend. Thanks to Pat, I was able to enjoy the VIP Sponsor Chalet all weekend long, as well as backstage seating for all concerts. But perhaps the biggest musical highlight of the weekend was being able to meet B.B. King himself after his Friday night performance, on his tour bus none the less! I got to spend a few brief but priceless moments chatting with him, and at the end of our conversation he was kind enough to sign my VIP ticket pass. For a music lover like myself, this was nothing short of a breathtaking experience, and I have to thank Pat 100% for making it possible.
 

The weekend passed by very enjoyably (if not a bit too fast), and before I knew it I was sitting in the bed of the R/T watching the impressive fireworks display that began in earnest as The New Cars wrapped up their final melodic offering for the evening. A huge barge anchored in the middle of Muskegon Lake served as a launch pad for the fireworks barrage, and a miracle wind blowing off of Muskegon Lake’s bigger brother to the west spared the crowd from having to inhale any unpleasant sulfur odors or deal with any smoke. As the fireworks faded and the crowds filtered out of the Heritage Landing concert area, I bided my time until I could move the R/T back to the parking lot where the hauler was parked. At 2:30am CST, I finished loading up, and pulled my contacts out with hopes of grabbing a few hours of sleep before heading home the next day. I can’t say enough for the kindness and hospitality that everyone at Summer Celebration extended to me. I kind of figured I was going to have a good time at the event, but I really had no idea just how good it would end up being. Events like Muskegon go a long ways towards making up for events like the Springfield Jamboree. Some events you leave with lasting scars….others you leave with lasting friends. I’m happy to report that I don’t have any scars from Muskegon, only good friends. In fact, one of those friends has gone on to drastically change (and enhance) my life.

Upon returning from Muskegon, I made what could possibly be described as one of the toughest decisions of my relatively short life. Time on the road, time away from home, and the changes that inevitably happen to people over the course of time can erode away at the foundations of a relationship, and over the last several months, such had become the case between Amanda and I. That time on the road away from home and the changes I have experienced within myself over the past few years have made me a more complex and experienced person, but all of that had also caused me to re-think what I wanted out of my career, my relationship, and my life in general. At times, I would often find myself wondering if I really even knew exactly what I wanted out of it all. Regardless, by the time I had returned from Michigan the months and months worth of thinking I had been doing on the subject came to a head, and with no small amount of sorrow, I ended a nearly four-year relationship with Amanda. Ultimately, I think it would prove to be the best course for both of us, but that is certainly not to say that it was not painful and difficult. With my head reeling and my personal life in a whirlwind of chaos, the road would become both my savior and my scourge over the following weeks and months.

With only a couple of days’ turnaround time at the shop, before I knew it I was back on the road, this time for a ten day trip that would encompass seven days of gigs split between Mansfield, OH; Wilkes Barre, PA; Newberry, SC; and a hometown gig in Champaign. I think I was exhausted before I even left for this trip, and as has been the case before, the Mansfield Monster Nationals proved to be a frustrating weekend for Dale on-track, though the R/T and I were up to our usually busy antics in Mansfield, providing hundreds of rides each night for the very loyal and hard-core monster truck fans in Mansfield. For once, Mother Nature held off and actually provided the teams and fans with beautiful and very comfortable weather all weekend long. One of the high points of the weekend for me was seeing my good friend Joe Sylvester and his Bad Habit machine get their first Monster Nationals win. Obviously, I would prefer a truck from my own team to get the win, but if it wasn’t going to be Dale then I’m quite glad it was Joe. Joe has been working hard at this game for the better part of two years now, so I know that he must have felt on top of the world when he knocked off Carl Van Horn in T-Maxx during Friday night’s finals on the tight Chicago-style track.

As I left Mansfield on a drowsy Sunday morning, Dale would once again be my co-pilot, as we made tracks for Bloomsburg, PA where the rest of the team was finishing up the Bloomsburg 4-Wheel Jamboree. Mark and Geremie had been dominating forces there all weekend, and although we made it to the track just minutes after the final race of the weekend had ended, we were thrilled to find out that Mark had once again took the win. After parking the R/T hauler and securing the pits for the night, we all headed off to dinner; I’m not sure there was a group of people anywhere in town that night that was more tired and worn out than our team was.

With all of the stress and drama I was dealing with both at home and on the road, the optimist in me had at least a couple of things to be thankful for, namely the new relationship I had begun not long after parting ways with Amanda. While some people feel the need to be single once leaving a relationship, I quickly came to the realization that I needed to have a positive female presence in my life. The solution to this realization came to me in the form of a beautiful and intelligent Notre Dame student named Beth, whom I had met in Michigan while at Summer Celebration. We grew close very quickly, and it felt refreshing to feel a new and positive force in my life. She had just gotten out of a long-term and very serious relationship as well, so we both related to the mixed emotions we were both experiencing. As I laid down for bed in Blooms, I took some time to reflect back on how much my life had changed over the last few weeks, and all the things that had brought upon those changes. At some point the gravity of the moment must have been so great that my mind simply gave up and I finally fell asleep.

Dale headed home the next morning with our dually and support trailer, while the rest of us spent the next day and a half working on and cleaning up the monster trucks in preparation for our Wednesday/Thursday gig at the Dodge dealer in Wilkes-Barre, just a short drive north of Bloomsburg. Despite having only a small section of gravel parking lot to work with, the gig in Wilkes-Barre went quite well from all aspects, and before I knew it Tim and I were pulling out Thursday night, heading south towards Newberry, SC. With the economy being the way it is these days, especially with diesel fuel averaging something like $10.35 a gallon, you kind of have to take gigs when you can get them; which is precisely why Tim and I drove nearly 700 miles overnight from Wilkes-Barre to Newberry. We managed to make outstanding time, arriving at the dealership well before we had originally estimated we would. After a warm but relatively easy day of rides, we quickly found dinner and retired to our hotel for a much-needed and well-deserved night of rest. We finished out the gig the following day, hitting the road in the early evening bound for Champaign.

We drove late into the night, and then finished off the drive early the next morning, arriving at the Champaign County Fairgrounds just in time for lunch, courtesy of Mat and Geremie Dishman’s family, who had set up an impressive picnic spread for everyone. Champaign is probably one of the easiest shows from a ride truck perspective, as I usually only give rides for about an hour before the show during the pit party. As the Prairieland Monster Nationals got underway, I tired down and loaded up the R/T in an effort to shorten the already late night that I knew we had ahead of us. By the time the dust had cleared and the show was finished, Geremie had claimed the win in Rammunition, extending our team’s stranglehold on our hometown races. Darkness came just as the show ended, though we did manage to get loaded relatively quick all things considered. By the time I had left the shop and pulled into my driveway at home, I was exhausted in every respect; mentally, physically, emotionally, you name it. The time between my head hitting my pillows and my eyes closing for the night could have been measured in fractions of a second I believe.

With only a couple of days to get turned around and pointed in the right direction, Dale and I were soon off again with the R/T, this time headed to North Platte, NE for a combined Dodge dealer display/Monster Nationals event. The long drive out west would prove to be rewarding in some respects, as my family would be making the short four hour drive from Cheyenne to visit us for a few days in North Platte. The drawbacks would be the long, boring drive out, and the fact that I was trying to put out some fires in my own life while out on the road. We passed the time at the local Dodge dealer in North Platte as best as we knew how for a couple of days, then relocated to the nearby county fairgrounds for the Saturday night show. Rain had begun sweeping through the area early Saturday morning, and by the time the evening show rolled around, the infield was more akin to a massive free-for-all mud bog fest, with the race trucks attempting to compete in standing water and shin-deep mud. Driving the R/T was simultaneously frustrating and enjoyable; driving it was a blast, sliding around in the mud and making a mess. Attempting to back up to the ladder without getting stuck…well…that’s just plain frustrating. Dale would end up taking the win over Big Dawg in the finals, but if the victor is supposed to enjoy the spoils of war, we certainly proved that theory wrong that night. Dale, Travis (who had hauled Dale’s truck out to N.P.) and I worked several hours into the night trying to get the race truck cleaned up enough to load, eventually deciding (sometime around 2a.m.) that it was in fact clean enough to load.

Sleep was surprisingly hard to come by that particular night, and it goes without saying that Dale and I were only looking forward to Sunday because it meant we got to begin our long drive home. We bid farewell to Travis around breakfast time, then said a bittersweet goodbye to my family shortly thereafter. Though I’ve rarely ever been one to become homesick, saying goodbye to them in Nebraska was terrifically hard. So much so that I just damn near get choked up thinking about it still. When our careers and personal lives simultaneously push us to our psychological, physical, and emotional boundaries, it seems to me that the natural reaction is a yearning to just “go home” and try again another day. Alas, that was not an option (for me, anyhow), so we pressed on and managed through the day, loading up and getting on the road sometime around six or seven in the evening.

By this point in the summer, our grueling schedule reminded me of a story I had once read about my favorite band, and the nightmarish tour they undertook in 1977. At the time the band had just become popular nationwide (and worldwide) with the release of their most recent album, and the subsequent tour was so intense that the road crew and band had nicknamed it the “Drive-Til-You-Die” tour. I’ll bite my tongue and knock on wood when it comes to the “die” part, but I have to say that the summer of 2007 will go down in my books as being the “Drive-Til-You-Die” tour.

Dale and I returned to the shop late Monday evening, and were granted a much-needed respite on Tuesday, as we would have to leave Wednesday morning (Aug 1st) to reach Essex Junction, VT in time for the Special Events Jamboree that was being held the 4th and 5th. I spent my day off mixing pain and pleasure, as I attempted to quell some of the lingering problems between Amanda and I, while trying to rediscover happiness via spending time with Beth. Mixed results.
You can add the drive to Vermont to the long list of drives this year that have been “long and uneventful”, although I will say that the final one hundred miles or so of the trip are thoroughly enjoyable. Essex Jct., and its “big brother” city of Burlington are not well serviced by interstate travel, so the only real way in to the area from the West is a series of narrow, winding, scenic, and hilly two-lane roads that begin just off of I-87 in New York north of Albany. The route from I-87 to Essex is nothing but small roads that traipse through some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever witnessed east of the Mississippi. The rolling cow pastures and corn fields alternate with breath-taking lakeside views and dense deciduous and evergreen vegetation, making the trip at least somewhat enjoyable, even to the most intense and serious-minded driver. Knowing what a challenging and labor-intensive weekend the Vermont Jamboree is, I made sure to enjoy the small roads as much as possible, under the assumption that the visually appealing drive in might be the only fun I would have all weekend.

By the time the weekend’s dust had settled, I couldn’t complain too much. I’ve suffered through a lot worse times at the Jamborees in the past. We pulled out of the Champlain Valley Expo early Monday morning, sleepy and homeward bound. But of course, I enjoyed the drive out on the smaller roads.

I wish I could tell you that I was home before I knew it, but to be quite honest the drive seemed to take forever. At times it feels as though the miles stretch themselves to their very limit, while time does its part to slow to a snail’s pace. I tried to entertain myself with positive thoughts, including the fact that my next two gigs would take place in the state of IL, which meant short drives and maybe some time to rest up and catch my breath. By this point in the summer, I could feel my enthusiasm and morale beginning to drop off. That is a dangerous position to be in, as it is all too easy to become lackadaisical and that is when mistakes are made. I was tired of truck stops, tired of sleeping in trucks, tired of showering in confined places, and tired of being dirty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to complain for the sake of complaining; rather, I’m merely trying to offer up as realistically as possible what it feels like to be flat used up.

Dale, Tim, Mark, and I found ourselves at the Chanute Air Museum in Rantoul just a couple of days after returning from Vermont to take place in the Museum’s first-annual (again) air show event. The R/T ran fairly steady both days without much issue, though the same could not be said for Dale’s truck, which ate a motor at the end of Saturday’s car crush performance. Stunned into silence, the guys and I could not believe the absolutely terrible luck we had been suffering from as of late. Even I couldn’t put into words just how disgusted I was with fate in general. Rather than work through the night to swap motors at the shop, we elected instead to bring Mark’s truck up from the shop to handle the Sunday car crush, which it did in fine fashion, much to my relief. We tired down and loaded up the trucks in oppressive triple-digit afternoon heat, the sun’s rays bearing down on us like an invisible swarm of stinging insects. Heat = pain.

The R/T stayed busy the following day, as Mark and I met up with a group of children and their chaperones from the nearby Carle Clinic, which is part of a local hospital and healthcare organization. The group met us at the shop, and we gave rides to the children up and down the farm road that dead-ends at our shop. Despite the fact that the rides weren’t the most exciting I’ve ever given (though not bad, all things considered), the kids were absolutely thrilled. To top off their afternoon, Mark and I signed hero cards, posters, and stickers for all of them, after which Mark addressed all of them and handled a question and answer session like the pro that he is.

The rest of the week came and went painfully slow, the sticky-hot Illinois summer ensuring that nobody went home with a dry piece of clothing on. However, as a lesson in how fast Mother Nature can change her mind, the weekend’s event (Aug 18-19) in Mendota, IL would be cold and rainy both days. Imagine that. After all of the fun stories I had heard about “Hank’s 4x4 Jamboree”, the rain put a severe damper on what would have been a much more entertaining weekend, and I truly feel bad for Hank and his staff, who worked as diligently as possible to give the fans what they paid for. The weather being what it was, it goes without saying that the R/T was not as busy as it would have been had the weather been good. Dale joined Beth and I during the afternoon of the first event, and the three of us spent more time freezing our bums off in the trailer than we did actually giving rides. Sunday was slightly busier, though the skies punished Dale and I for no apparent reason later in the day when it came time to tire down. No shower required, seeing as how the rain nearly washed our clothes right off of us. I absolutely hate tiring down in the rain. At least the drive home was short.

Dale, Travis, and I once again hit the road together a few days later, bound for Muncy, PA. The “on-track” part of our gig at the dealership was successful and without any major hiccups other than the heat, though the high point of the weekend was our traditional visit to Haywood’s Bar and Grill in the old downtown sector of Muncy. Haywood’s serves up the meanest appetizers known to man, including HUGE potato skins and some damn fine hot wings. That’s a heck of a compliment too, coming from an experienced hot-winger like myself. I might have left a pile of chicken bones behind in Muncy, but I definitely took the heartburn with me.

The three of us left Muncy late on a Saturday evening and drove even later into the night towards our Sunday gig: the annual Cruz-In at the Kokomo Transmission Plant in Kokomo, IN. We entered the KTP compound on-time and in fine fashion Sunday morning, and completed our R/T gig without any trouble at all. At this particular event, riders donate money to a children’s Christmas fund that the plant works with, so needless to say it is always a good feeling when a long day of rides actually pays off in a “visible” way. The three hour trip home went quickly, and I managed to sleep in my own bed for a night, before heading out the next day for the Western US.
 

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