Our RV Adventures

I had already hitched up last night so this morning all we had to do was stow the satellite dish, raise the levelers, unplug shore power and go.

Every time we stop at Poche’s, we always wish we were staying longer. The first time Nick and Terry stayed here, Nick wondered why I hadn’t told him about this place before.

I told him he’d tell everybody and then we wouldn’t be able to get a reservation. Most of the sites are concrete pad back-ins, but they do have two long pull-thru transient sites, which is where we always stay.. Very nice park, especially for $20 a night Passport America.

We pulled out right at 10 heading for the Hollywood Casino in Bay St. Louis, about 165 miles away.

But before we could get there, we had to cross my nemesis, the Atchafalaya River Bridge, 18.2 miles long, through the Atchafalaya (Cha Fa La Ya, forget the AT) Swamp. When we first drove onto the bridge, Jan asked me if it still bothered me. I said no, but it’s not something I’ll forget.

In 1994, I was on my way to Birmingham to visit my mother, a trip I made every month from 1992, when my father died, until 2005, when I finally got her to move to Houston.

It was lightly raining and I had just gotten on the bridge when an old Lincoln Continental started passing me doing about a 1/2 mph faster than I was, just creeping past. He had a line of traffic right on his tail, as did I. So I couldn’t really  slow down much either.

Then just as he barely got past, he cut over right in front of me, so close I could no longer see his taillights. And then he slowed down. So I instinctively took my foot off the gas, never touching the brake. But that didn’t help. Apparently just as I let off the pedal, I crossed one of those metal expansion joints with a bump. And then all hell broke loose.

As well as my tire’s grip on the pavement.

My Ford Ranger did a quick 360, and then added a 180 for good measure. Then my instincts kicked in and I managed to get my truck up against the rail, trying to scrub off speed by grinding off the driver’s side of the truck.

Of course a 360 and a 180 meant was I was now going backwards, and watching people dodge the large pieces of my truck as they fell off. At this point I was somewhat hopeful that the excitement was almost over.

But I was wrong!  Very wrong!

Apparently  a wayward piece of my rear bumper snagged on one of the separations between the sections of the concrete bridge railing, slinging me back around into another set of 360° spins.

How many, you might ask?

Well, I lost count after 4. Mostly because the left side of my head slammed up against the metal shoulder harness bracket that Ford thoughtfully  mounted just at head height, without any padding.

In the middle of all this, I was still trying to get control of the spins, but without much luck. Turning the steering wheel didn’t seem to have much, or any, effect. But finally I ended along the railing again, this time going the right direction, and finally came to a stop. I managed to get the door open and climbed out just as several motorists ran over to see if I was OK.

The first thing I noticed was that I no longer had a truck. It was more a pile of parts traveling in close proximity to each other, but now bent in a semi-circle.

The rear bumper and tailgate were gone, and the driver’s side rear tire was shredded due to the fact that the wheel well bulge was mashed flat against the tire. But as bad as that was, the front was worse.

The entire front bumper and trim panels were gone. And I now knew why my efforts to correct the spins were for naught. I had nothing left to correct with.

The driver’s side tire, wheel, shock, tie rods, etc., were all gone. Just a big empty hole where it all used to be. And the passenger side wasn’t much better. Although the tire and wheel were still there, it wasn’t really connected to anything, but just hanging there at an angle.

By this time this adrenaline rush had kicked in, so I sat down on the railing ledge, before I fell down. As I waiting for everyone to show up, I took stock of myself.

I had a splitting headache and a real egg-sized goose egg on the side of my head. But other than that and some bruises on my chest from the shoulder harness, I seemed to be OK. My next though was ‘concussion’, but I wasn’t showing any signs, at least yet.

BTW did you know you can check yourself for a concussion, at least one on the side of  your head?

Close both eyes and then open one eye and then close it and open the other. If you see a difference in the brightness between the two eyes, there’s a good chance you have a concussion.

And the paramedic reluctantly agreed with my diagnosis, although he still wanted to take me to the hospital. I told I would still be in the area for a while, and if I felt worse I’d have it checked out.

My idea was that after I got the remains of the truck towed in, and settled all the paperwork, I’d get a ride to the Lafayette airport, rent a car, and continue on to Birmingham to my mother’s.

Finally getting to the airport, I called Jan, told her what happened, got her to stop crying, and told her to meet at the airport Sunday  afternoon (this was Friday afternoon).

Then while they were getting my car ready, I went to the restroom to freshen up. I had some band aids in my bag that I figured I put on the bump. It must have been pretty obvious since the car rental lady kept looking at me, and twice ask me if I was sure I was alright. And I noticed as I was crossing the concourse that other people were kind of staring too.

Getting inside the restroom, I went to the mirror to take a look.

Now you would think that somebody – the bystanders, the police officer, the paramedic, or the tow truck driver who I rode with – that somebody would have told me that the entire side on my head, my shirt collar and sleeve, and the back of my shirt, were all caked in very red dried blood.

I looked like an extra from Night of the Living Dead.

Grabbing a bunch of paper towels, I got all the blood off the side of my head and put a couple of bandages on the lump. I couldn’t do much about my shirt, so I just got a windbreaker from my bag and put it on to cover my shirt.

The rest of my  to trip to Birmingham and back were uneventful. Thank goodness.

When Jan met me at the airport on Sunday we drove back over to the storage yard so I could get some things out of the truck.

Jan took one look at the pile of pieces and started crying again.

I almost did too.

I really liked that truck.

So that’s my saga of the Atchafalaya River Bridge.

But our trip today was much more uneventful. Even going through Baton Rouge was a breeze.

We got into the RV Park at the Hollywood Casino about 1pm, and after at lot of rigmarole, finally got parked and set up.

Since this blog ran so long, I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.

Tomorrow we’ve got a 145 mile trip to the Gulf Shores State Park in Gulf Shores, AL where we’ll be for the next week.

Really looking forward to it

Thought for the Day:

“I never said most of the things I said” – Yogi Berra

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