The Big Event

Today is the day we stopped at the World's Largest Truck Stop, the Iowa 80 truck stop, in Walcott, IA. The excitement began building as we crossed the Mississippi River into Bettendorf, IA,

Bettendorf, Iowa
on the banks of the Mighty Mississipp

and when we started seeing signs like this one,

Coming up to Iowa 80

and this,

Almost there now

I nearly peed my pants from excitement. This place is hugemongous!

Guess what state we're in

In all, we spent five hours there; doing laundry (me), having maintenance done on the truck (Mr. Trucker), thinking about getting my hair cut but chickening out, looking around, eating lunch in the restaurant and then touring the Truck Museum. The truck stop says it has three floors, but the main floor is actually split level, so that's a little deceptive. There are full-size show trucks INSIDE the facility, for those who like that sort of thing.

This baby is on a revolving floor.
I took this picture from outside

Lovely hand painted mural on trailer

Here's a shot of Mr. Trucker taking our clean laundry back out to the truck

Iowa 80

and here he is wondering how he's going to get his mouth around this burger

They call this burger "The Big Mama"

We also spent some time touring the truck museum before we left and I have a plethora of pictures from there, but I won't bore you with them. It was actually more interesting than I had anticipated, but I know that I still wouldn't want to look at pictures of it, so I'll spare my readers. Instead, I'll close today, as we head west to our date with Warren B. in Omaha, with a much more exciting picture: My grand-cat, Gypsy, with her four brand new kittens. I'm not proud or anything. 

One of them has a striped tail, just like a teeny armadillo!

Today's silly sounding place name: Keokuk, Iowa.

News from New Joyzey

Started today in Carlise, PA at a halfway decent hour, 4:00 a.m. We watched dawn breaking over the Pennsylvania turnpike, and at 6:54 a.m. central time, I called my dear friend Jackie K. and woke her up (sorry Jackie) at her home in Green Bay to tell her that we were just north of her childhood home of Philly. She was excited to hear from us and told me that the name of her Philadelphia community is Bristol, PA. This shot is for you, Jackie.

Not real clear. Comes from trying to take a picture
while truck going 60 some mph.

We dropped a load of butter in Burlington, NJ and while there, I got to eat my very first meal off a "roach coach". Why do you suppose they call them that? I'm talking about those little mobile chuckwagons that come zooming through the shipping/receiving areas at about 127 mph and if the driver sees truckers, he stops on a dime, throws open the back and side, and sells yummy food. I had stuffed shells with spaghetti sauce and a meatball, and Mr. Trucker had a delectable (mild) Italian sausage on a bun with sauteed onions and green peppers. Mmmmmm...

Then we drove a short while to Monroe Township, NJ to pick up another load of something or other. There's always a scheduled appointment time for any pickup/delivery and you had better not dare be even one minute late, or you will suffer severe punishment (you think I'm kidding, but I'm not), but the shipper/receiver can be as late as they want in getting you loaded/unloaded. You don't ever get an apology, you don't ever get a reason, but what you usually do get is a whole lotta surliness. If you ask what the delay is, you are usually rudely told "we'll get to you". Today, Mr. Trucker went back in after waiting an hour and a half to make sure they hadn't forgotten about him and he was told "we're having a day...". That was it. He finally got a door two hours after his appointment time, then loading took well over an hour. 

What really sucks about all this sitting and waiting is that you don't make ANY money unless the wheels are moving, but the delay counts towards your 14 hour clock, which starts the minute you begin driving in the morning, and once the 14 hours is reached, you MUST stop driving. 

This particular load is going to Omaha, NE and Mr. Trucker is excited because our route will take us on I80 (which runs east and west, if you remember yesterday's post) and we'll stop at the Iowa 80 truck stop, the world's largest. Mr. Trucker says they have 800 parking spaces, a dentist, a barbershop, a beauty salon, and a 300 seat restaurant with a 50 foot long salad bar. http://www.iowa80truckstop.com

When we get to Omaha, we're thinking about dropping in on Warren Buffet. I'm sure he'll be happy to have us for dinner or something, seeing as how Mr. Trucker owns some shares of Berkshire Hathaway. If Warren's not in, we'll look up his brother, Jimmy.

Recently we've run into a lot more truckers whose wives ride with them. We got in a conversation with one couple yesterday and we were telling them about one of the biggest reasons why we are doing what we're doing. Both Mr. Trucker and I lost a sibling at a fairly young age (my sister, Marcia died from colon cancer at age 55 and Mr. Trucker's sister Diane battled ovarian cancer for 14 years before succumbing at age 41). It really gets you thinking about the brevity of life. So often we put off our dreams until retirement, but what happens if we never live that long?  When I went out with Mr. Trucker for a month in July, before we made the decision to try this together for one year, we saw countless older couples touring the U.S. in their RV's and oftentimes one of them (or both) would be in a wheelchair, or on oxygen. We want to see the U.S. while we're still relatively young and in good health. And...we don't even have to spring for an RV. I've already seen more of this country in the last two weeks than I ever did in the previous 51 years.

Mr. T at White's Truck Stop

Here are a couple of leftover oddities from yesterday:

Self explanatory, I'd say

In Ohio. Free grundy with checking account
Free swirly with a CD

I'm going to ask you a favor, dear readers: If you enjoy my blog, please share the url with others. My goal is a million followers, a book, and a movie deal. I already have Jennifer Aniston pegged to play me and Mr. Trucker figures no one can do him justice like Kirk Cameron. 

Today's silly sounding place name:  Piscataway, NJ.