89A on the way to Quartzsite

Alright I'm no Robin Williams (didn't watch the movie until we got back home) but in hind sight it was kinda funny. We left home without a parking gear or parking brake, 4 yellow scotchblocks that my brother-in-law would hop out and block the tires with. Having not been to Quartzsite and really not that well travelled in the west I took the exit south of Flagstaff and headed to Sedona on 89A. Yep, I saw the sign with circle and bar saying NO TRUCKS OVER 50ft, but this is a motor home. Gotta tell you it was exciting, going down that mountain for 25 miles or so.
After finally reaching the bottom of the mountain, letting the brakes cool off, driving through Sedona and a couple of little towns it was time to decide. Continue on 89A or start replanning, maybe go back to the interstate. A quick "how bad can it be after that" vote, we continued on 89A- big mistake.
Jerome, Arizona, for anyone who hasn't been, is 4 miles straight up the mountain. 45degrees and switchback city. We continued to climb and make 90 degree turns. My sister-in-law was totally unafraid in the back near a window until she heard me utter the 3rd "Oh S***!". To appreciate her anxiety, please be informed that we are flatlanders, totally unaccustomed to grades going from 1800' to 7000' in just a few miles.
After something just short of what seemed a lifetime we reached the top and started down the other side. We stopped at just before dusk at a little station to take on propane and gasoline. The owner asked which way we came, I told him, and being unduly impressed at our bravery (stupidity) he invited us to spend the night "next to the fence".
The following morning it was such a relief to see the desert stretched out before us as we descended the last part of that mountain, to begin our visit to Quartzsite.

Loosing it

OK, I hate to have to tell this tale but fair is fair. Fall of 2005 Connie and I booked six back to back shows in the Northeast. After seeing fuel prices escalate and sales plummet it was nice to be wrapping things up and heading home.

We were in Ridgefield, Connecticut for the last show of our season in the city park. It had been fairly warm that Sunday so after hooking our cargo trailer to the motorhome we grabbed several bottles of water and passed them out to the other vendors saying goodbyes and wishing everyone well.

Back in the motorhome and pulling out we heard a clunk. Connie said "you had better check the trailer hitch!", "no" I replied "I have it locked onto the hitch, its ok." "you'd better check" she chimed again. Being the Alfa male I ignored her persistent warning and we pulled out of the park on our way through NYC at night to avoid Monday morning traffic.

The roads in southern Connecticut are windy and twisty going down to I-95. So we were tooling along, happy as larks. After getting on the interstate I stopped at the first rest area and proceeded to clean the windshield, didn't want to deal with NYC with a grimy windshield.

By the time we hit the city it was about 9 pm and traffic was brisk but manageable. Connie was talking to our son on the phone when the trailer came off the ball. It made a lot of racket and in the camera I could see it sparking as the it had nosed into the pavement only held to the motorhome by the safety chain. Luckily we were in the right hand lane and didn't have any problems pulling over just before the Bronx exit.

The dogs quickly positioned themselves on the dash barking at any and everything that moved. Connie got off the phone and we both got out, I stared in disbelief at the trailer with the hitch flat on the pavement while Connie reminded me of her earlier warnings.

We backed the motorhome up loosened the chains and after a half hour or so managed to get hooked back up and rolling. We spent the night at a Wal-Mart in NJ and felt extremely lucky that nothing was the worse for evenings events. I am sure that anyone reading this knows the moral of this story. See#4

And Here's what every Redneck Lotto Player Dreams of