Installment 2, sent March 22, 2013:
"Day one started out uneventfully, we drove across Eastern Colorado on I-70 and into Kansas. It was flat, brown and WINDY!!!! There was a steady, stiff crosswind and my little Rover found it difficult to maintain the speed limit of 75mph. Around mid-day, Warren called to let me know he saw fresh-looking oil on the ground below where I had parked the night before. He suspected the oil filter may have been loose (I just had the oil changed, and it's happened before when the service guys haven't tightened the cap enough.) I checked the oil a few times at gas stops and rest areas. At our stop in Junction City, KS, I thought the oil looked a little bit lower on the dip stick, so I decided to take the car to Walmart next door to have them take a look. After waiting 30-45 min, they informed me that everything looked fine; the oil tank was full, the filter was tight and there were no detectible leaks. There was no charge for this inspection. If you find yourself at the auto service department of Walmart in Junction City, I hope Sabine is working. She's helpful, nice, pleasant to talk to, and will make you glad you stopped. Day one ended with us staying at the Courtyard by Marriott in Blue Springs, MO (just east of Kansas City.)
We had two plans for the second day of our journey: see the Gateway arch in St. Louis and visit Trenton, IL (the town my mom lived in during Junior high.) The weather was cloudy cool and breezy, but without the relentless wind we'd encountered in Kansas. We got a late start from the hotel and made it to the arch and "Jefferson National Expansion Memorial" museum around lunch time. The arch was conceived of in 1933, construction started February 1963 and was completed October 1965. It was built as a memorial to the Westward expansion of the United States, both through the Louis and Clark expedition and the Louisiana purchase. There is an extensive museum, two theaters and an innovative tram system that goes up into the arch to an observation deck at the top. We opted to keep our visit short (and free) and didn't go into the arch or watch one of the films. Even so, we were there for an hour.
We headed to Trenton, IL, population 2007. As we got into town on the one-lane main drag (Broadway St/Old Hwy 50), the lady in front of us stopped to wait for oncoming traffic in order to complete her left turn. As I normally do, I looked to make sure the intersection was clear (no peds, no turning cars) and went around her on the right hand side. A couple blocks down was the left we needed to take to find the house my mom had lived in (416 Main St.), so I took the turn. You can imagine my surprise when I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a squad car behind me with his lights flashing. Several thoughts ran into each other in my mind. They went something like this: "Is that for me?" "EEP!!" "I've never been pulled over before," "I've never had a ticket before," "I know I wasn't speeding. What is he pulling me over for?" "Pull over and put the car into park." Officer Bojangles (not his real name, his last name was long with a 'j' in it somewhere) approached my car, introduced himself and informed me that passing on the right is illegal, both in IL and CO (which I doubt), and lectured me on the potential dangers of right-handed passing. When he asked what we were doing in Trenton anyway, we told him about my mom growing up as an Air Force brat in a house down the block. Boy did he brighten up. Suddenly, he turned into a tour guide and representative for the town. He was talking to my mom about all the things that had changed in the last 48 years (not much as it turns out.) They had a lengthy and lovely conversation (with the guilty party, me, sitting awkwardly in the driver seat between them). He wrote me a warning and let us go. We approached 416 and stopped. Officer Bojangles drove up next to us and rolled the window down. "Would you like to go inside?" he called. "[Uhhh] Sure," we said. "I'm good friends with the Jenkins'. They should be home. Let me give them a call and I'm sure they'll let you go inside." He whips out his personal cell, calls up Rick, explains the situation and 10 minutes later we find ourselves inside the entryway of this beautiful old home. Thanks for pulling me over Officer Bojangles! We spent an hour or more chatting and taking a tour of the home. Memories were recalled and email addresses were exchanged. Some things just happen for a reason :-)
I will detail the rest of the journey this evening. For now I have to get ready to go back to the house (more unpacking and cleaning), and hit up the mattress store (turns out modern-day, queen-sized box springs DO NOT fit up the tight staircases or windows of a 19th century house).
Cheers,
Kristen"
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