Chasing the sunset - Days 1 and 2 of the Hayward move

Ok, so it is 9:42 CST and I am in a Holiday Inn Express in Kearney, NE. We have been on the road for two days and have travelled 800 miles (1400 to go!). Here is a little diary of our trip so far:

Saturday, August 23
D and tank helped the captain and I load the H.M.S (Hernandez Moving Service) Makin' Bacon. It was to be a short time in B'town, for sure. Believe me, however, it couldn't have been any longer. The temp was reaching 100, the sun was out bright, and it was hell-muggy, as the High Mass'er would say (and that ISN'T a racial joke!). Here is a pic of the Makin' Bacon with the dingy attached outside of the Menard's in Mooresville.



We finally left b'town at 5:00pm and drove 200 miles to...b'town. Well, b'town, Illinois, that is. We ate dinner at a 'Country Kitchen' in which one of the waitresses had walked off the job 10 min before we got there (she heard the captain and I were coming). Seriously, she just walked off the job and the peeps in there were scrambling to make up her work. The cook came out and told us about his efforts to work two full time jobs so that he can support his one child who doesn't live with him, his other child (with another mother) who lives with him (I think?) and the child on the way (with another mother). The captain and I smiled politely and yearned for a soft mattress.

Here is a pic of the captain at the helm of the mighty vessel.



Sunday, August 24
Couldn't sleep last night. I've been up since 3:30am. Oh well.

We started from b'town, Ill. and headed west. Here is a welcome sign on I-80 when you cross over the bridge over the greatMississippi.



How can I describe Iowa? Rolling hills-corn-repeat. 5x through, insert soybean fields for one repetition.

Gas is costing us around $2.30/Gallon and we are getting 6-7 miles to the gallon. The Makin' Bacon has a 55 gallon tank. The trip is 2300 miles. Do the math.

In Des Moines, we stopped for gas and, argh matey, the captain was about to make some Iowans walk the plank. We pulled into a BP, circled the gas island three times, all the while looking for a way to pull the ship up to a fueling station. With each revolution, the captain's blood boiled hotter than the 100 degree temps outside (did I mention there is a heat wave that that is was 100+ until 9:30pm in Kearney?). The captain asked me to ready the cannons for a broadside as another vessel, the R.V. Moronicus was dillydallying at a precious resource spot. I calmed him down by assuring him other booty was to be found down the channel. The crew of the H.M.S Makin' Bacon loves booty.

We got to the other gas station and there was a broken down skipper, the R.V. Doofus and a strange barge that looked like an old Iowa Department of Transportation vehicle with an Astrovan in the bed (you had to see it and I didn't take a picture). The strange barge was piloted by a crew of questionable citizenship. The barge was stuck, the R.V. was stuck too. This time, the R.V. crew had committed the blunder of filling thier ship with unleaded fuel (the ship took diesel). The captain, wise as he is, gave me a lengthy oration on the difference between unleaded and diesel fuels and what happens if such a moronic blunder is made as the one by the R.V. crew. Let's just say, it suck to be aboard that ship!

After our stop, I took the helm so that the captain could get a little rest. I must say the Makin' Bacon is a formidable craft - pulling to the right constantly, bouncing up and down on the asphalt waves, and being pushed aside by the wake of the mammoth aircraft carrier semis. After about 50 or so miles, I became quite comfortable and was coasting along in Iowa.

Rolling hills-corn-soybeans-repeat.

We hit Omaha, NE and discovered what was great about NE: 75mph speed limit, 65mph work zones, and after 120 miles it is calm seas. We stopped again to fuel and discovered the dingy was loose! Now, it would make national news if the dingy detached from the Makin' Bacon but be assured that there was no danger of this happening. The captain and I hypothesize that somewhere in the straits of Omaha, we hit a wave that jostled one of the tire straps loose (the other was on and the vehicle was also secured in other ways). In any event, we applied the strap again and this time (actually, as before) we REALLY strapped it in good.

And this brings us to Kearney. We came into port after 12 hours on the sea and went to a nearby inn for a taste of what the locals eat. Here is a pic of our food, served (literally) in a feed trough:

This inn brought back wonderful memories of the port of Austin, TX and the great BBQ found there. Tank, you'd have loved the brisket!

Ok, time to hit the bunk. No wenches for the captain and I tonight. The land of Reno, Nevada is far ahead, however...