Hot Wheels

The “Great Trek East” began once we dusted off the Jet in Elephant Butte, New Mexico. 

Actually that’s not true.  It began on 16^th February in Coaldale, Colorado, and will end on 13^th April, just north of Richmond, Virginia, where we need to be for the wedding of Richard’s son, Steven, to his lovely fiancé Melinda.

Please note the mileage on below map is a ball park figure.  I didn’t plot the whole trip properly – and it doesn’t include detours to campsites.

After a 9 hour drive from Colorado we were looking forward to our first night in our own bed in our trusty 5^th wheel, and a quick check that the Jet had endured his almost three month sleepover without any failures to his vital systems.  After two restful nights, having checked that the de-winterisation process had worked, with no leaks sprung anywhere, and tyres blown up to correct pressure, we set off for Texas.

It is one thing being able to speed along interstates (motorways) at 70 mph in Benny, our trusty Dodge Ram truck, but quite another when it comes to towing the 5^th wheel.  The tyre manufacturers warn that to prevent tyre blowouts, speeds higher than 60mph are a no-no if you want to be safe.  Judging by the number of other trailers overtaking our plodding  Jet, and the thousands of bits of rubber tyres that line the interstates, I would say the manufacturer recommendations are wise, and we felt smug in our decision to take the slowly, slowly approach to towing.

We are more than a little sensitive about tyres since our little experience last June, when we ended up having to buy four new ones for the 5^th wheel.  We also invested in a tyre warning system that cost us $250 because of our ensuing paranoia.  It sits on our dash and warns us if there is a sudden drop in air pressure or increase in the temperature in any of the Jet’s tyres, giving us time to stop safely to check what the problem is.

It certainly earned its keep during our trek!

We covered 690 miles between Elephant Butte, overnighting in Fort Stockton RV park, before arriving in Dripping Springs, TX.  Apart from the endless hours of driving, the worst part of the trip was a hairy drive through El Paso, on the Mexican border.  Not hairy as in the drug cartel/robbery/murder scares you keep hearing about in the news.  No. Hairy, as in driving five narrow lanes abreast with a million other motorists at 11.30 am on a weekday.  (Yes, yes, I am prone to exaggeration, but you get the picture.) After the dribbles of traffic we have encountered so far in the western states, we are now definitely a bit leery of the much busier roads of the east coast.

We stopped at Richard’s cousin Lee’s house in Dripping Springs, Texas, for a week, to register the truck and trailer, to catch up with family, take the opportunity to get annual health checks done, and recover from El Paso.

Wiser from our first leg, we planned to leave so that we would hit the next big driving nightmare, Houston, early on a Sunday morning.  We left Saturday and spent the night in a little RV camp, about 75 miles west of Houston, never bothering to unhitch, so we could set off by 8 am.  By the way, we have noticed that 8 am is pretty late to set off by RVing departure standards.  But we are slow pokes in the morning and need our coffee to wind up.

It was a good plan.  The roads of Houston were not as bad as El Paso, in that traffic was slightly better, however, the quality of the road surfaces are much worse.  The poor Jet was bounced around like a rag doll in a temper tantrum.  Luckily I had tethered everything up reasonably well, so no real harm done, though we did find a piece of plastic on the carpet with no idea where it came from.  Time will tell.  That is one of the joys of RVing they don’t tell you about.  Things do get rattled around, and there is sometimes sawdust is unexpected places! 

We parked that evening in Frog City RV Camp, beside the interstate.  We were in bayou country close to Lafayette in Louisiana, with water everywhere, but not a frog was to be heard.  Too early in the year, I’m guessing. 

Daytime temperatures were in the high 60s (about 18C), but nights remained cold. Our winter quilt still covered our bed.

We had now covered 400 miles, and knowing that the next day’s drudge of almost the same distance would see us arrive on a beachside resort  in Florida, where we could rest up for a week and catch our breath, spurred us on.  We had been lucky so far, though we did notice that the left back tyre seemed to have developed a slow leak.  We pumped it up and hoped for the best.

It seems that when drivers on the slip road see a chunky 5^th wheel coming up in their rear view mirror as they come onto the interstate, they feel the need to see if they can race us and squeeze in front.  It is impossible to bring the truck and trailer to a quick halt, and there have been a few cuss words said in the past.  But nothing like those that slipped out when I was driving the next day.  This madman did not see the boat trailer that had swerved off the interstate onto the slip road and was barring his path, so intent was he to get in front of us.  I had no option but to step on the brake hard.  He wasn’t slowing down, and I knew I would hit him.  I started to move over into the overtaking lane.  The motorway at this point was only two lanes.  I never even got a chance to check if anything was coming up beside me.  I just prayed. He barrelled on oblivious.  I punched the damn steering wheel as hard as I could but it took me a few minutes to locate the horn.  He left the interstate at the next junction.  

I was frazzled by the time we got to the next rest area.  We ate a quick lunch and calmed down somewhat before we took off again, Richard at the wheel.  Within 10 yards, when the monitor squealed at us, we both jumped.  Rear left tyre had dropped 10 psi whilst we had been eating lunch.  We pumped the tyre up and used an app on our phone to locate the nearest garage offering tyre facilities about 7 miles further.  However, as we drove and closely checked our monitor, we noticed that the pressure had not dropped but even increased a little.  A hot rolling tyre will do that.  When we stopped at the garage, we found the cause – a nail or screw had embedded itself into the tyre tread. We figured that when we had been eating lunch, the tread had been in a position where the air was able to leak out, but that whilst the wheel was rolling, there was no leakage.  We decided to keep the tyre pumped up and keep driving and get it seen to when we got to our pre-planned destination, a further 150 miles, in Niceville, near Pensacola.

Niceville is well named.  The local tyre dealer was able to plug the tyre, so no need to buy a new one.  The Maxwell Gunther RV Park sits on a lovely bay and Benny and the Jet are sitting cooling their tyres in the sand. 

Daytime temperatures are in the low 70s (around 20C) and night-time is up to low 50s (around 10C) so the winter quilt has been packed, and Richard’s mother’s more lightweight hand-sewn quilt is adorning the bed.  Richard and I are sitting on the beach dipping our toes in the water and sipping a beer and planning the following day’s trip to Destin beach on the Gulf of Mexico and trying some of that famous local seafood. 

Having covered some 1800 miles and driven though five States since leaving Colorado, we feel we have all truly earned our 7 day break from hot wheeling!!!