How NOT to Drive Across the USA-- Part II

Wednesday Afternoon; Reporting via Cable from Florida--

Further thoughts of tinkering with the timing to improve the up-hill performance were quickly dismissed when we discovered that the bolt clamping the distributor in place was too tight to allow easy rotation. Besides, we had successfully [barely] topped both Fourth of July Pass in Idaho and Lookout Pass at the divide between Idaho and Montana. In between we were really "smokin'" -- maintaining a comfortable 60-65 mph [except on the long hills of course!]. The weather was sunny, the mostly clear blue skies of Montana were magnificent. The companionship and conversation was delightful; the "air-conditioned" (with windows partly down) cab was comfortable. Life was good.

When we were saying our "goodbye's" to Dave back in Spokane, he had noticed a puddle of oil beneath the old truck. He advised us that we should check the oil. Grumpy, knowing that the truck had always left a small puddle of oil after being parked for several days, didn't take the advice as seriously as he should have. Less than 100 miles later, as we began to descend from Lookout Pass into Montana, a new noise emanated into the cab: an ominous engine rattle -- like a dry valve lifter. Stopping at the next Rest Stop only a few miles from the Pass, we discovered the crankcase oil level was below the bottom of the dipstick! Two quarts of 10-40 oil, kept in the storage compartment of the trailer for just such exigencies brought the level back up into the comfort zone and we were off again, but now with a new concern. The engine was leaking oil (from the rear main bearing seal, Dave had opined). This was not an immediate crisis, but a situation that we would have to keep our eyes on during the rest of the trip.

At the top of the Continental Divide (Homestead Pass) just outside of Butte Montana, we stopped for our first night's rest. The inside of the travel trailer was surprisingly comfortably cool. After a long, hot day of driving, the thought of being able to stretch out on those 80-inch foam bunks to sleep sounded good to these old sailors.

Alas! At night, even in the throe's of Summer, it can get chilly at 6,300 feet!! The normally-warm son fumbled in the night to find the covers, under which he snuggled until the "crack of dawn" the next morning when Grumpy growled, "C'mon, let's get going; we're burnin' daylight!" And so we were soon on our way down the long, winding 6-8% grade into the Atlantic Ocean drainage territory.

The day was spectacular, the traffic was light and "it's all downhill from here on!" was our cheer. Our goal for our next night's sleep was to be Iowa. [We made it as far as "almost Sioux Falls" before tiring out at midnight after a 16-18 hour day of driving.]

The scenery through the short-pine hills of Southeastern Montana brought back fond memories of living in Buffalo and northern Harding County SD for my younger fellow-pilot.This scene, showing the Black Hills on the distant horizon, with Bear Butte prominently looming left of center, and the ubiquitous antelope peering back at us about 100 yards away across the railroad tracks, welcomed us as we neared Belle Fourche for our second refueling stop (7.2 mpg on this leg; ugh!!). We still thought of Iowa -- or at least the far-southeastern corner of SD as our destination for the night.

We finally succumbed to near-total fatigue at the last Rest Stop before Sioux Falls; Son Ward complained that his eyes were uncooperatively crossing (though why it mattered Grumpy couldn't say, since his left eye was blind except for a slit of peripheral vision to his extreme left) and Grumpy's eyes were refusing to stay alert.

Another short night of rest and another long day of driving in a hot pickup cab lay ahead.