Next time you're behind a tractor trailer, cussing because it's in your way, goes too slow
Given a third drop-off address the evening before by Karen the Chain Smoker, a volunteer from Nashville, I was now supposed to go to Baton Rouge, about 60 miles east, to the Louisiana Department of Agriculture and Forestry ... and after two hours, several phone calls, a fair amount of walking, and the aid of a helpful FEMA rep, I found the correct place. At a different address than I was given, and not until having driven down yet another tiny residential street with really low-hanging branches, a 7-ton weight limit and a cop at the end. Oops, again.
While I would finally be able to unload, the actual event was anticlimactic. Using a forklift to unload the flatbed was the easy part, except that some of the bags and boxes weren't quite on the pallets anymore. After unhooking the second trailer, it'd be relatively easy to get the three pallets out of the first trailer, but all the loose stuff was another story. I hoisted bags and whatever to the rear of the trailer until I had to get on the ground to make more room. This was repeated several times while four "helpers" stood within three feet and talked. Granted, these government employees probably hadn't offered to help, but had been told to. I was hot, tired, and generally wrung out. At this point I had already gulped down over four quarts of water, without any need to take a leak-my entire body was leaking. Then one of the helpers began whining about how he hadn't eaten in five hours. That's when I lost it and pointed out that I hadn't eaten a meal in almost five days, which irked him and one of his coworkers enough that they left. Eventually I did get some help, and the contact person at the DAF was even apologetic. He also said, "We have enough dog food to feed the nation."
Louisiana has had a long drought, we're told, but being from a relatively arid Southern Ca
A great night's sleep followed, largely because it was only 40 degrees in the trailer. Having had a burger-and-fries dinner didn't hurt either.
Back on I-10, heading west, I called Bruce Smith, a former Four Wheeler editor who now lives on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. He was alright and his house still standing, but otherwise his entire community was apparently pretty much creamed by Katrina. Based on Bruce's report, I immediately called the Katrina Relief people in Van Nuys to get trucks rerouted. Thankfully, they'd already heard and had arranged for loads to go to Mississippi instead.
This fifth day ended with a mere 145 miles driven, but in a nice way. I enjoyed a fantastic dinner with Warren and David Guidry of Interco Tire, and spent the night by Interco's newest warehouse in Rayne, Louisiana. It was quiet and safe, my stomach was full, and the temperature went all the way down to 77 degrees overnight.
Rather than going back on I-10, I decided to escape some of the oppressing humidity by taking I-40, which took me by West Monroe, Louisiana. Naturally, I stopped at Superlift to see Bret Lovett and the guys. It was amazing to see how far Superlift has come since its humble beginnings in 1975, now using exotic computer design to crank out new and better products. While I'd only put 229 miles on the 18 tires this day, the need for R&R took over, and I spent the night. It was still 101 degrees in the trailer at 7:00 p.m., but that meant savings on propane-no need to turn on the water heater.
A measly 2-inch-long, 31/8-inch bolt threatened to end the entire journey on a bad and cos
With a load of bacon and eggs in my belly, the trek westward was pure pleasure-until just after Beaumont, when I noticed that the charging system didn't. Turned out to be missing a bolt on the alternator bracket, which left the ground wire flopping in the breeze. An easy fix: put a new bolt in the hole and be done. Well, it didn't quite work out that way. A tie-wrap and some bailing wire, together with a wrong-size bolt, kept the alternator and A/C compressor from hitting the fan, and (for the most part) made the charging work. Despite a late start, torrential rains, and terrible traffic in Dallas, plus numerous re-fix-it stops, the odometer showed a respectable 666 miles when I called it a day in Amarillo-only 948 miles to home.
Got less than 200 gallons of diesel for $534, then rerouted myself towards northern New Mexico for some much needed R&R-this time, "Repair and Rest," in that order. Just 408 mostly scenic miles later, I arrived at Soni Honegger's homestead, where we found that the missing bolt was only half missing. It was broken off, and the remains not in the least easy to get to. Crap.