The Chili King

When my princess decided that a tea party with the girls was in order, I knew right then in my heart of hearts what had to be done, what the manly thing to do was. 

Exactly, it was time for a visit to that West Des Moines landmark and institution, that apex of fine dining – it was time for a visit to George the Chili King. 

 

Now it must be told that this is not ordinary

  

chili. Mais non, it is the very pinnacle of chili-dom, cooked to perfection by George and his crackerjack staff, known throughout Iowa and shipped all over the world.

I must also mention that that George has gone green. Indeed, he has replaced some (but not nearly all) of the many bulbs in the strings of lights surrounding his parking lot with CFLs. Kudos to you George! 

The next time you're in Des Moines, be sure to stop by George's, put a pin on the wall map and sign the guest book. You'll won't be sorry. It's a visit NOT to be missed.

 

Two Kinds of People

As you cross the Illinois line into Iowa, the first thing you’ll see is the welcome sign, proclaiming “Welcome to Iowa, Fields of Opportunity” and so it is.

For the past few days, Fred ‘n Erma have found themselves nestled in between the tractors and various out buildings of Steve and Cindy Florer’s farm in West Des Moines.

 A Pioneer seed rep, Steve has been in the business of farming all his life. Together, they are two of the best people you’ll ever meet up with. 

And if you do have the good fortune to 

meet up with them, Steve will not hesitate to let you know that there are only two kinds of people in the world – Those that live in Iowa and those that wish they did. 

I’m not sure I’m either camp, but my Princess and I are glad to be here just the same.

P.S. He’ll probably tell you the same thing about farmers and fishermen.

The Mother-Ship

As a matter of course a devout Airstreamer is expected to make, at least once in his or her lifetime, a pilgrimage to what’s known in the parlance as “The Mother-Ship”. Located in Jackson Center, Ohio, it is of course, The Airstream Factory, former home of the founder, Wally Byam, and, perhaps mort importantly, birthplace to Erma.

So it was no accident that on Thursday afternoon of our Western Adventure, we found ourselves in the Airstream Souvenir Shop, giddy with excitement, tea-shirt in hand and signed up for the tour. Life was good.

The Airstream factory is located about an hour northwest of Columbus. Although, originally manufactured in California, Wally began looking for a place in the east in the early 1950s and when he stumbled across an abandoned bazooka factory, he knew this was the place. 

For some reason, they're kind of picky about taking pictures in their factory, so you'll just have to go see for yourself...

Madge gets Bitch-Slapped

The plan was so simple - hitch up and be on the road by first light. But by then we were way too keyed up to sleep and decided we should get on the road instead. We started to drive right then,10:00 that night.

Now, GPS can be wonderful thing and ours is a Magellan we call "Madge". It was around midnight that we respectfully asked her to find us a Wal-Mart (camping in a Wal-Mart parking lot is a time honored tradition). Little did we realize the gravity of her dark humor as she knowingly led us into “BOONDOCKING HELL”. Cunningly, she steered us toward a Wal-Mart that no longer existed all the while, gleefully toying with us in the process.

Apparently, Madge does not like working late into the night. 

It was when we made the hairpin turn onto a small one-lane wooden bridge that we realized that Madge was playing with us. We were ass-deep in alligators – that is, no way to go forward and too late to go back. (Note to self: when the sign reads “No Trucks”, that means you dummy). The damage was done, there was NOT going to be a do-over.

Then from nowhere, in the middle of the night, an angel of God appeared in the form of Jimmy Rollins, a roving tow truck operator who knew trouble when he saw it and he knew that we surely fit that definition. 

I mean, what are the chances of that? Jimmy stayed with us for over an hour until finally depositing us at the Wal-Mart Supercenter where we should have been in the first place and which by the way, turned out to be two shakes from the interstate (I should of known…). It didn't take Jimmy and a couple of authentic West Virginia locals long to size up the situation (the locals had seen it before), realize our options and show us the here-to-fore secret path out of purgatory. Praise Jesus, we were saved...

 

Hot Dog Man

Hot Dog Man is a fixture of the Anchor Mart near Swanton, Maryland. Although missing an arm and out in the middle of nowhere, he is a man of my own heart - a little slice of Americana that says "BOY, AIN'T LIFE GREAT". I mean what could be better than cold beer, live bait and free wi-fi! For all intents and purposes, it's the trifecta of travel.
Hot Dog Man also marks the beginning of our western adventure, our long awaited trek to parts west. The galley sink was repaired (I hate plumbing...the thought of browsing three isles of fittings makes my eyes glaze over) and a new flag holder installed. Fred 'n Erma are buff and ready to roll. Come Wednesday, we're outta here!

ə.’lu.mɪ̆n.ītis

Aluminitis; (ə.’lu.mɪ̆n.ītis) a condition resulting in an overwhelming desire for aluminum. Although no cure is known to exist at this time, the symptoms can be treated through repeated and heavy doses of Airstream usage

It should be noted that there are two schools and only two schools of thought with regard to all things airstream - there is "us" and there is "everything else". Everything else registers very low on the coolometer and, in the parlance, is mostly referred to as an S.O.B. (square 'ole box). However, if there is any confusion, I believe the following video would be most helpful in summing up the relevant points.

P.S. You'll be tested later.

Plumbing 101

Erma's been weeping intermittently under the galley sink for a couple of months. Thinking I should get it fixed before the trip, I thought, "How hard can it be?"... It was only later I remembered this was the same (dumb) thought I had before my first child was born.

As I tightened a nut under the counter, my last words to Peg were "Oh s--t, this is not a good sign". A new faucet set is on the way. Let's hope it comes in time.