Continuing the Drive

Continuing the Drive… Well, Not as Planned

The goal was simple enough—475 miles in about 10 hours. A good, solid push with the promise of Downstream Casino Resort waiting somewhere at the end of it.

And for a while, it was going exactly as planned.

We had knocked out about 250 miles, feeling pretty good about the day. Somewhere along Interstate 40, near Exit 101, we did a routine driver switch. Susan took the wheel, and for about two miles everything felt normal.

Then it happened.

Heading uphill near Exit 106, Susan calmly says, “We’ve got no horsepower.” Not the kind of sentence you want to hear when you’re in a fully loaded motorhome climbing a grade. Sure enough, we were losing speed—fast.

She did exactly right and eased us over to the shoulder.

Now it was my turn.

I climbed out, did the classic roadside inspection—you know, the one where you look very serious and hope something obvious jumps out at you. But nothing did. No leaks, no broken parts hanging down, no dramatic signs saying, “Here’s your problem!”

Back inside, I gave it a try. Nothing.

Well… not nothing. Enough to limp.

We managed to crawl our way to Exit 108 and found a spot to park behind a Conoco. Not exactly where we planned to spend part of our day, but at that point, it felt like a small victory just to be off the highway.

And that’s when the “fun” started.

First step—check for codes. Nothing.
Second step—look again for anything obvious. Still nothing.
Third step—call Family RV Association Assist.

Now… what I could say about that call would take the rest of the evening—and probably part of tomorrow. Let’s just say it didn’t go the way you hope those calls go.

So, Plan B.

I reached out to Bob Palmer from Bob's Diesel. That one phone call turned into a masterclass in roadside diagnostics. Step by step, question by question, I learned more in that conversation than I expected—and honestly, that story deserves its own chapter in the next blog.

But for now, we had a new mission: get to a shop.

We found one about six miles away. Sounds easy, right?

Except when your top speed is somewhere between 10 and 20 MPH.

So there we were, doing the slow crawl of humility—hazard lights on, praying for patience from every driver behind us, inching our way those seven miles like it was seventy.

And right in the middle of all that, my phone rings.

It’s Rudy.

“Why are you still sitting in the same location?”

Because, my friend… today, the road decided it had other plans for us. 

DaGirls Rv in Gus da Bus

Plan – Onward to Downstream Casino… Maybe

Plan – Onward to Downstream Casino… Maybe

Distance: 475 miles.
Can we do it? Well… that depends on how much coffee, determination, and good humor we can pack into one day. As always, we’ll see what happens—and more importantly, where we decide to stop when common sense finally taps us on the shoulder.

But before we get too far down the road, I forgot to circle back on Rudy and Beata’s Jeep situation. Turns out, there’s some good news in the middle of all that mechanical drama. A deal was worked out for a used/rebuilt rear axle along with the labor to get it installed. If everything lines up—parts arrive on time, no surprises in the shop—they could be rolling again by Tuesday, May 5th. That’s the kind of update you like to hear when your home has wheels and your plans depend on them.

Now… back to us.

Why in the world are we even considering pushing close to 500 miles in a single day?

Short answer? Because sometimes the road isn’t just about distance—it’s about timing, weather, and a little bit of “let’s just get there.” There are days when 200 miles feels like a full journey, and then there are days like this, where you look at the map, take a sip of coffee, and say, “Well… it’s doable.”

Part of it is the pull of the destination—Downstream Casino Resort—sitting up there like a reward at the end of a long stretch of highway. Full hookups, a place to rest, maybe even a decent meal that doesn’t come out of the RV freezer. That alone can make the miles seem shorter… at least in theory.

And part of it is just the rhythm of this lifestyle. When you live on the road, you learn to read the day. Weather looks good. Roads are clear. Spirits are high. Those are the days you stretch it a little. Not recklessly—but intentionally.

Of course, we also know better. Four hundred seventy-five miles in an RV isn’t the same as hopping in a car and stepping on the gas. Fuel stops take longer. Stretch breaks matter more. And somewhere around mile 300, you start having honest conversations with yourself.

“Do we keep going… or do we find a nice spot and call it a win?”

That’s the beauty of this journey—plans are flexible, expectations are negotiable, and the destination… well, sometimes it changes.

So, onward we go. Maybe to Downstream. Maybe not.

Either way, the road’s got a say in it too.

What's the next word ? Photos of course:

Susan, Tilly and me, and always with Dakota Leading the way.

DaGirls Rv riding in Gus da Buss

Life's Little Turns

Thank you all for signing your name at the end.

As we rolled out and pointed the nose east, it didn’t quite feel like a clean departure. Rudy and Beata were still behind us—literally—waiting on a tow truck instead of chasing horizon lines. Arrangements had been made for a repair shop and an RV spot for a few days, but that didn’t make the goodbye any easier. This wasn’t just another stop along the way—this was our farewell supper, our last shared laugh, and yes… one final glass of wine that lingered a little longer than usual.

Rudy called later with an update. The tow truck had arrived, though it sounded like it had somewhere more important to be, because they were having a hard time keeping up with it. That alone paints a picture. Still, by the time we heard back again, all was well. Now it was just a waiting game for answers come Wednesday. If you’ve ever traveled in an RV caravan, you know—when one rig has trouble, everybody feels it.

Meanwhile, we pressed on toward Sky City Hotel and Casino. And here’s a little road tip worth its weight in diesel: for $19 (and yes, you have to say you saw the sign), you get a pull-through site with full hookups. Not a bad deal in today’s world where some places charge you extra just to breathe their air.

After getting settled, we headed indoors to the restaurant—because let’s be honest, nobody felt like cooking. We split a slab of ribs, added French fries and sweet potato fries (because balance, right?), and called it a feast. And it was. Plenty of food, good flavor, and the kind of meal that reminds you that sometimes simple is best—especially after a long day on the road.

Morning came early, as it tends to do when you’ve got miles to cover. By 7:20, we were rolling again. Destination: Amarillo. About 350 miles ahead of us.

We decided to switch things up and reserved a spot at a Love's Travel Stop RV site instead of the usual Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks lodge stay. Sometimes convenience wins, and this was one of those times.

And along the way? Well… let’s just say that parts of New Mexico and the Texas stretch we traveled don’t exactly overwhelm you with scenery. There’s a whole lot of “not much” out there. But even in the wide-open nothingness, there’s something to be said for the journey—the hum of the road, the quiet moments, and the stories still unfolding one mile at a time.

Till next time this is DaGirls in Gus da Bus signing off.

New Adventures but Not Who you expected

One Thing I would ask everyone who leads a comment. 

Please sign your name to your comment, if you would so please.

Our day began, as many responsible adult days do, with the ever-thrilling adventure of annual doctor visits. Susan and I met our new physician for our yearly wellness check—always an interesting experience when both sides are quietly wondering, “What are we going to find today?” Thankfully, everything checked out just fine, with a little back-and-forth conversation to keep things interesting and remind us we’re not quite as young as we used to be—but not as bad off as we feared either.

We rolled back into the RV right at 0930, and in what can only be described as a minor miracle in RV travel time, we were on the road by 1013. That alone deserved a small celebration.

Rudy, Beata, and Henna took the lead, guiding our little caravan eastbound on I-40 with our sights set on Sky City Hotel and Casino at Exit 102. The plan was simple—always a dangerous phrase in RV life. Two stops before leaving the interstate: a quick driver exchange in Gus da Bus, followed by a refuel in Milan, NM. Smooth. Organized. Predictable.

Or so we thought.

The first stop went according to plan… mostly. As I stepped out of the coach, I was greeted not by the peaceful hum of travel, but by smoke curling up from Rudy’s Jeep’s rear tire. Now, smoke is one of those things you never want to see coming from anything you own—especially when you’re far from home and towing your life behind you.

After giving things time to cool down (and giving our nerves a moment to do the same), we took a closer look. That’s when we noticed the tire sitting at an angle that no tire should ever consider adopting. It was clear—we had reached one of those crossroads moments.

The kind where the road splits not just geographically, but logistically.

Instead of continuing on with us, Rudy and Beata made the call to head into Gallup to find a park and, more importantly, a trustworthy automotive shop. It’s never easy splitting up mid-journey, especially when the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal. But after sharing a cup of coffee and a brownie—because all major decisions should involve chocolate—we said our goodbyes and pointed our rig eastward.

Our next stop was the Petro station in Milan. Simple plan: refuel and keep rolling. Can you say… OUCH? Let’s just say the fuel pump reminded us that traveling freedom still comes with a price tag—and it’s not getting any smaller.

Through it all, one lesson stood tall above the rest: always be prepared for the unexpected. In RV life, the unexpected isn’t a possibility—it’s part of the itinerary.

We finally pulled into Sky City around 4:30 New Mexico time, grateful to have made it safely, even if the day didn’t quite follow the script we had written that morning.

And Rudy and Beata?

Well, they’re currently weighing their options—quite literally—trying to decide which direction to go next, knowing a new (or at least new-to-them) axle is in their future. It’s one of those situations where there’s no easy answer, just the next right step.

Stay tuned… because if there’s one thing we’ve learned, the story is never over—it just takes a detour.

Susan, Tilly, me and like always Dakota over-seeing us

 

The Empty Co-Pilot Seat: Reflections on the Journey Ahead

For five months, twenty-five days, and twenty-three hours, there has been a silence in our lives that is hard to describe.

On November 2, 2025, at 11:00 AM, our beloved Dakota crossed the rainbow bridge. Since that moment, not a single day has passed where she hasn’t been at the center of our thoughts and the heart of our prayers.

The months following a loss like this are a strange blur of "firsts." We navigated a Christmas that didn’t feel quite right and took walks that felt much too quiet. Rallies came and went, Susan found some peace on a cruise, and I returned to my volunteer duties at the YCSO. Life, as it tends to do, kept moving, even when it felt like our world had paused.

We recently held a ceremony that felt like a long time coming. We released some of Dakota’s ashes, joining her with the spirits of our other companions: Della, Koko, Gator, Chiquita, and Qua Pasa. It was a moment of profound closure, knowing they are all together now. We’ve kept just enough of her to eventually be mixed with Susan’s and my own, ensuring that when our time comes, the pack will be reunited for the final journey.

But as much as the past few months have been about looking back, the road is starting to call us forward again.
Grief is a heavy passenger, but it eventually finds its place in the backseat. Returning to my work at the YCSO and getting back into our routines has reminded us that while the co-pilot seat might be empty, the journey isn't over. We are learning to carry Dakota’s memory not as a weight, but as a light that guides us toward what’s next.

We don’t know exactly what the next chapter holds or which roads we will travel this year, but we know we go forward with the strength of the loyal friends who walked before us. To the rallies ahead, the miles yet to be driven, and the memories still to be made—we are ready.

So, stay tune for new adventures of DaGirls, as we head down the road in Gus da Bus.

Susan, Tilly, me and of course Dakota in sprit