Back to SLO

Note the stack of planes over the wing.

I got back here Tuesday night at about midnight local time, 15 hours to go 3000 miles. I remember when that was a 6 hour trip. In Chicago, they forgot to have a plane with a windshield waiting, and when they finally got one 1.5 hours later, a weather system had moved in. They loaded the plane so we wouldn't run away, and then had us sit on the tarmac for another 1.5 hours. Needless to say, I missed my connection in SLO, and now was faced with the last flight out of SFO to SBP, etd of 10:45, the fog time. That is why I had booked the earlier flight, ever wary of the FOG.

We landed though, and I fell into my own bed. Happy to be here.

We held a memorial service for my Mom on Sunday, the 12th, a simple affair with a short prayer service, and many of Mom's friends and neighbors paid their respects, as did the friends of all the siblings. We then held a reception or collation, as they say in RI, meaning everyone was invited to gather at a local restaurant for food and drink. This worked out perfectly, as we were completely guessing on how many would attend and had only room for one more person and plenty of very good food.

In the days following, I found myself occasionally thinking, I should call Mom, and then catch myself. That will pass.

I can't say enough about the kindness of Bill and Rose, providing us (my brother and I) with food and lodging, and Leslie and Bob for lending me a car, and for putting up Lisa and Manuel. I went golfing with Bill a few times, and played badly and felt badly for days after. Wrecked my back and left shoulder and ego, waaah.

Randy and Gail were super kind too, throwing an awesome and delicious dinner party for me and many of my old friends. They've done this before when I stumbled into town. Unfortunately, I started getting a toothache the Saturday before while golfing with Bill, and my left jaw started going numb. On Tuesday the dentist yanked a bad tooth (#21) and put me on penicillin for the infection, so I couldn't eat fast enough at the dinner party, and Pat and Paul ate all the brownies before I got any.

A couple of days later a bunch of hooligans gathered at the Narragansett Inn in Jamestown to hear the Lois Greco Band play, and they rocked. Lois was channeling Janis Joplim, and Earl was smoking the bass (guitar not fish), and our ears fell off. See http://www.loisgreco.com/. Check out the videos, this band is tight!

Instead of watching the Patriots lose to the hated Jets, Earl took me out on his boat on the Narrow River on Sunday afternoon, and asked me 200 questions about my relationships with people, in preparation for his next career, 'Dr. Earl, Hoarse Whisperer.' It was nearing sunset, and we headed to the rivermouth. Igor was leaving his mark, so we did not venture into the sea, but it was beautiful and serene.

Monday Pat and Bill McNiff and I got together for lunch in Narragansett, and then went to check the waves.  Bill and I traded leukemia tales, and I will try to cure my hand cramping with salt.  I neglected to take any pictures, and not protect the innocent as there were none present.  I checked my phone and I only took one pic the entire trip, and that is above.  Sheesh, I claim brain damage.

Mist in my eyes

Written on 9/10 and 9/11

The most difficult thing to decide regarding an RV trip is which decision I made was the stupidest. I suppose the first stupid decision was the most damaging, since the others fell like dominoes after that. That decision was that it would be cool to cross the country in an RV, less work than setting up a tent and campsite, and that the increased costs would be offset by the fun of travelling that way.

I am writing this from the anteroom of my mom’s nursing home room. My brother and I are here right now, and my mom is sleeping, knocked down by a dose of morphine to help her breathe. We came by earlier today and she mustered a little, not much, and does not look well. It’s good that I abandoned the RV trip and flew out today.

Not that I was going to get a choice on abandoning the RV trip, the RV trip was abandoning me. We had nothing but troubles. We left last Saturday at 11:30 am, and Cuesta Grade (6 degrees up) should have informed me that the RV was not up to this journey. We never made it over 45mph.

A half hour before Bakersfield, ~150 miles in, and the RV starts coughing and kicking and losing speed. We’d slow to 45, then get back to 55. I pull into the Bakersfield WalMart and get carb cleaner, some fuel filters and gas additive, then stop and fill up with premium and put in the additive. We drive over to John’s girlfriend Laura’s house, where we were going anyway so they could dine together for the last time for some weeks. Along the way I see an O’Reillys Auto (used to be Kragen), so I stop there and get another filter. Now I have 4 filters, none specific to the 454 engine, but maybe. At Laura’s, I start trying to find where the fuel filter might go.

We all go out for Mexican food with Laura’s parents, and then I search some more with the laptop and Laura’s WiFi connection, but do not find anything. I spend the night in the RV in Laura’s driveway. This is another warning that I ignore. In the morning I wake at 4:30, and everything is going poorly. I cannot find matches to light the stove, and when I do I find the RV’s propane is gone. It must have been running the refrigerator on the road. I take out the coleman stove and have coffee at 5:30, then continue researching fuel filters for the Chevy 454.

I call the Pep Boys, and they say they have the fuel filter, so I drive over there guided by the Garmin, and they have a filter that fits a metal housing on the carburetor that has ‘FILTER’ printed on it. Seems like a winner. As I am driving back to Laura’s to get John, I realize the Garmin has died. The adaptor looks broken, or is it a fuse? I call John and he talks me in. It is starting to look like I have the Anti-Midas touch.

I cannot loosen the nut that holds the fuel line into the filter, in spite of multiple applications of WD40 since the night before. If I force this nut I could snap the fuel line, and then the gig would be up. This is a sign to go back that I ignore, another bad decision is about to get made, I could abandon ship right here and limp back to SLO. I do not force this nut, so whichever way we go we will live with the old filter.

We press on to Zion, lugging up the hills, filling up at each half tank with additives and premium. We arrive at Zion at 10:30, and the bulletin board says Fiore site B41. We go to loop B, follow it all the way around from site 1 to site 40, where the loop ends, and we ponder the cosmic trick. On further examination of the campground map we see that site 41 is part of a subloop starting at site 6. We find it and camp.


In the morning I try to loosen the fuel filter housing again, spray more WD40, then shift my focus to fixing the deadbolt on the door. After an hour struggle and with John’s help, we make it work. At about this point in the morning I get an email describing my mom’s condition, and it isn’t good. She is dying soon. We make the decision to turn back, and I call Dana and have her set me up a flight, Wed. redeye arriving Thurs am.

It is now almost 1pm so John and I head out for some hiking and sights. My hip is killing me, and 2 Aleve are not helping much, so we keep it limited to the Grotto and the Emerald Pools. I am off steroids this week, just when I could have used them. John asked me if I was off steroids earlier because he noticed I was talking a lot less.

When we get back to the RV, we see dirt all over the couch, and the Sun Chips are spilled out on the counter. We wonder how critters got in, when John points to the doghouse (engine cover between the seats) that is not on, since I was working on the fuel filter. A bear could have gotten through there. Doh!

We are really hot and sticky, and looking forward to showers, but notice that the shower is not draining. Back in SLO we had sanitized the fresh water holding tank, and then run water through the sinks and shower. We did not drain the gray water tank then, where the sink and shower water goes. Since it was only rinse water I should have, but didn’t in deference to the neighbors, and now I have an overfilled gray water tank. The dishes water has also mingled in, so if I want to shower I will have to do so as though being stewed, with bits of onion and garlic at my ankles. I forego the shower.

I wake early, get coffee, and head out with John asleep. He wakes soon, thanks to big speed bumps, and we head to the dump station and empty the holding tanks. I take a shower right there, and then dump the gray waste again, and we hit the road back to SLO. I feel quite defeated, and sink into a foul mood, but John is forgiving and says at least we tried and it has been a good adventure.

I decide we should at least have a small gambling adventure, so we pull into Mesquite. I know the first gas station is a tourist trap price, so I drive through town, all the while explaining some of the nuances of blackjack to John. The 40mph road I am on turns into 25mph school zone, and next things I know the lights are flashing behind me. $160 fine, pay attention, tonto. We split $100 at a $2 blackjack table, and John wins $8 and I lose $8.

We limp onward, and actually have to pull off the highway at one point, when we cannot make the grade halfway up a long uphill (Halloran Summit). We get going again, and a few hours later, 13 miles outside of Bakersfield, we hear a banging noise under the doghouse. John is driving, but I hear it first, and it sounds like a belt has just given way. He limps up to the next exit, not far, and I can see the temp gauge has gone up a bit.

There is a nice big sandy area with one splotch of shade from the only tree. It is 5:15, figures, all the mechanics just quit for the day. I pull the doghouse off and blistering heat comes off the engine, which is normal, but I cannot stick my face in there with the heat. I call some mechanics, looking for someone that can help, and only Pep Boys thinks they can do this job. I call AAA for a tow, thankfully I added a rider for RV towing before I left, and that gets me a 100 mile tow. Pep Boys will start the job if I arrive before 7:59. AAA calls back and says my tow will arrive at 7:40, and with his hookup time we won’t make it.




AAA comes and tows me into the Pep Boys yard, where I have an appointment at 8am, when they open.. Laura comes and gets John, and I spend the night in the RV in the Pep Boys parking lot. I try to get them going first thing in the morning, and they are searching for the right belts, but the mechanic says he does not see a missing belt. I point out the 2 pulleys that have no belt, and he points out that they are offset from each other so a belt would just spin off. I ask him what would have moved the belt arrangement, but no answer.

He finds water leakage around the water pump, and I surmise that the banging I hear is the water pump breaking apart. They are looking for the part, and the update I get is that they have to remove the whole front end to replace the water pump, maybe 5 hours labor. I do not have that kind of time, so I call off the whole deal. I have been searching for RV storage yards all this time, and have one 7 miles away for $45/month. I need to fly out of SLO at 8:30, so I call John, who has Laura prepped to drive us to SLO.

I pack up everything that is valuable and perishable from the RV, John and Laura arrive, and we stuff her car. I drive the RV to the storage with the idea that it will overheat, but it never does. The problem is not the water pump. Blown valve? Exhaust manifold? I get to the storage yard, put the RV to rest for a month, and we drive to SLO. I repack, shower, and get on the plane to RI.

Monday update

The service we had yesterday came off beautifully, just as Mom would have wanted it, I think. I am spending today trying to get a dentist to fix the toothache, probably big cavity, that started Friday night. Relentless.

Goodbye Mom

In Grace,
a fighter and a lover,
a nurturer, wife and mother and daughter,
raised in
fighting times, tough times,
worked hard to rise up,
feisty, full of life and
persistence,
smart and wise and
unwilling to be beaten down.
We are here now
thanks to her,
go in Grace.


My mom was such a fighter that she was hanging on until she had said goodbye to all her children, and was waiting on my brother and I to make it back to RI. Frank made it Wednesday, and I got there at ten yesterday morning. In spite of how weak she was, she acknowledged our presence, struggling to get her piercing blue eyes open and to say hello, and Frank and I went back after lunch to sit with her. Each of us spoke to her, telling her what a good mom she was, and giving her permission to stop fighting, that it was okay with us. It’s kind of ridiculous to think that she wanted or needed our permission, but I think she was fighting hard to see all her children one last time.

Soon my mom became very labored in her breathing, and the nurse told us she may be transitioning. My brother was holding her hand, and I took her other hand, and she passed away. A great woman has moved on, free of this mortal pain, and my family appreciates all your thoughts and condolences.

She lived through the Depression as a child and teen, and was shaped in part by that experience. Her dad was a proud submarine mechanic in the great war, and then found work as a custodian. Mom told me how she and her mom would save their cigarette butts, and then put a pin through the ends and smoke the remainders. When I was 2 and still in diapers, she was caring for Frank at 5, Joanna at 4, me at 2, my newborn sisters Lisa and Leslie, and her mom, who was terminally ill. My dad was forever working, trying to bring in enough for our family to get ahead.

We were able to move to a bigger house in the suburbs, and mom went off to college while taking care of us, earning her masters degree and becoming a teacher. She was a very hard-working and intelligent woman, and taught us a work ethic and perseverance that has helped us in our lives. I could always count on her for some guidance when things were difficult, but she would never interfere in my life, never let me hide behind her apron strings. We will miss her.