After an uneventful drive to Texas in the family Jeep with good friend Jimmy, the Captain takes possession of the coach and spends the first evening aboard. All systems "go" for the next day. At least we think so. I believe I have mentioned that your Captain knows nothing, nada, zilch about a 45 foot long, diesel powered motor coach which weighs over 50,000 pounds.
Dateline Lewisville, TX June 30, 2013hh
Dawn arrives earlier than the Captain expects, but nonetheless, preparations are made to get the beast ( motor coach, not the Captain) underway and headed for the Maryland shore. The Jeep is hitched behind the coach and with the Captain at the helm we are underway. The overall length of our ensemble is approximately 209 feet...ok, maybe more like 65 feet. Still HUGE for novices like us.
With the Captain at the helm, we navigate rush hour traffic through the heart of Dallas, east across Texas and entered Arkansas at Texarkana, drove through Hope and on to Little Rock right into an epic 45 mile traffic jam caused by absolutely nothing we could see. After a 475 mile ride we arrived on the Arkansas bank of the Mississippi River where we took refuge in the Tom Sawyer Campground. Our campsite was about 50 feet from the river's edge. A truly magnificent sight to behold. (Later, after midnight the Captain began to curse the river's proximity because of the incessant bleating of the air horns on the tug boats working on the river.)
After unhitching the Jeep, we ventured across the river into Memphis and to Beale Street, the home of delicious Memphis BBQ and W.C. Handy's blues.
Beale Street, home of W.C. Handy, the Blues, and great, great southern pork BBQ.
JULY 1, 2013
515 miles of uneventful cruising aboard the Beast, took us to Bristol, Tennessee, and NASCAR's Bristol International Raceway. We stayed nearby at a lakefront RV park and made sandwiches for dinner. We reflected on just how beautiful the drive had been as we crossed the varying terrain of Tennessee. Also, the sticker shock of feeding the Beast was finally settling in with the Captain. (5.5 MPG was our average).
July 2, 2013
Our ambitious day began with crossing the Blue Ridge Mountain ranges and gliding into Lynchburg, Virginia. This is the birthplace of the Captain, and still home to his Mom and Dad, whom we visited. Next, the Captain treated Jimmy to the local gastronomical adventure called a "Western Sandwich".
The Western
This sandwich is constructed by frying an egg around a fresh ground beef patty, placing it on a roll, slathering it with some yellowish substance the locals call "relish" and serving it piping hot. Apparently, there is an ordinance forbidding those with a full count of teeth and no large, blurry forearm tattoos from preparing the Western, but we locals see this as essential to the Western experience. This local delicacy has been served at the venerable Texas Inn in Lynchburg for nearly 85 years. (Actually, I made up that number, since I couldn't find the exact date of opening, but I'll bet I'm darned close!)
After a hurried lunch, we proceeded via historic Charlottesville and Richmond to Solomons Island, MD where Jimmy lives aboard his aging Chris Craft Motoryacht. (To be fair, Jimmy is aging also, and I suspect has far more miles on his creaky hull than the boat does).
Jimmy's yacht, MILES FROM NOWHERE
All told, our miles driven today was 485, with an elongated lunch hour, so the Captain decided to remain in Solomons for the evening and "roughed it" with the generator. Great, first experience doing this.
July 3, 2013
The Captain, now the sole occupant of the Beast, cranked the engine at about 4AM, and departed Solomons en route to Ocean City, MD and a much anticipated homecoming with the waiting family. This was the Captain's first time doing it all alone...and what an experience it was. After driving 180 miles, the Captain and the beast arrived safely in Ocean City. Parked the coach on the street, visited briefly with the family, then began a long afternoon of showing the Westies, the neighbors, and a few friends our rolling abode. (The pups were not that impressed)
Later in the evening, well past darkness, a local police officer knocked on our door and requested that we move the coach as a neighbor had complained about it being parked on the street. Now comes the fun part...getting this behemoth into our smallish driveway. With expert guidance from the Commodorable, mission accomplished, neighbor placated, and peace in our time. See photo below:
Next Chapter: Practicing camping without the pups
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