I checked my email this morning and had a reply from MOT regarding operation of the new MCD windshield shades. As far as the passenger-side windshield shades going down only about a foot, that’s a safety precaution when the key is in the ignition. And of course the key was in the ignition when I was trying to lower the shades. Then there was the issue of how to lower the driver’s-side windshield shades. I couldn’t find the remote. Well, there were two brand new switches installed to the left of the steering wheel and I never saw them. So, as of this moment, the shades do go up and down as they are supposed to. Hopefully, you won’t have to hear any more about these MCD shades, unless, of course, there is another problem.
We spent last night in a small RV Park in Monroe, LA. It was kind of tight for a 40-foot motor home towing a car (65 feet total length) but we squeezed in. This morning as we were getting ready to leave we spotted something you would probably never see outside of the Deep South. A man and his dog were walking up the dirt road that ran through the park. He appeared to be early middle age and sported a short beard. He was wearing flip-flops and cut-off bib overalls without a shirt and carrying an acoustic guitar. The man, not the dog. The guitar was pure Louisiana but could have been Mississippi I suppose. In Texas, the guitar would have been an assault weapon; in Alabama, a fishing pole; in Georgia, a Browning automatic shotgun; and in Florida, a beach umbrella. Unfortunately, I had no camera ready and missed a great shot.
We got back on I-20 East at 9:30 AM and settled in for a long drive. I turned on the CB so I might be warned of any accident-related traffic jams like the one we encountered yesterday. However, I couldn’t understand anything that was said. The speaker was making everything sound garbled. I may have to replace it. I thought I heard one of the trucker’s say something about an alien abduction happening in the median ahead, but I never saw anything suspicious. Carol Ann has better hearing than I do and she was able to interpret some of what was said. For instance, “whir yat” was a trucker asking another for his 10-20 (location). “Rye cheer” was apparently the proper response. The rest sounded like the adult voice in the Peanuts TV specials. What good is a CB if you can’t understand a word of the transmissions?
We stopped for fuel at an independent truck stop just after crossing from Mississippi into Alabama. There aren’t a lot of choices in that part of the country as the only thing between the Alabama line and Birmingham is Tuscaloosa, home of the University of Alabama Crimson Tide (boo!), at least that is what they would have you believe. As soon as I turned in to the truck stop I knew something was wrong. There were about a dozen diesel pumps and not one single truck. The place looked deserted. I pulled up to pump #1 and Carol Ann went inside with the credit card. While I was waiting for the pump to be turned on Carol Ann came back out and said we had to use pump #5, #6, #7, or #8. I pulled out, drove back around (you can't put it in reverse when towing a car), and pulled into #8. Carol Ann went back into the store with the credit card. Again, nothing from the pump. Carol Ann came back out and told me that they were out of diesel. Why didn't they tell her that the first time? The place was so run-down I suspect they had not been able to pay their fuel bill. We had to drive another 30 miles before we found another fuel station.
We are now in the parking lot of a Walmart in Leeds, AL where we will spend the night. Maybe later I can go inside and get some good “People of Walmart” photos.