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