The following ‘venture is written by my old man, Pops, as I call him. He also goes by a slew of other names that my brother and I started calling each other and him years ago, “James, Leeroy, Jones, Ortiz”. They can be used interchangeably or in any combination therein. I guess we were young and thought it funny. Now, we’re older, and still think it’s funny. The following is the account of Leeroy Jones Ortiz, AKA “Pops” as he drove Pearl westward from Arkansas to California. If you don’t know Ron Collar, also known as “Iron Ron” to a slew of my friends - you’ll have to ask him how he earned that one, it’s a story worthy of its own pad of paper. If you don’t know him, it won’t seem as wild to you that he drove a flooded and resurrected van 1,900 miles to the west coast. But if you do know him, you know that is seemingly one of the last things he would ever want to do. Pops is one of, if not the most, trustworthy men I know. If he gives you his word, you can count on it, no matter what. He’s a man who knows what likes and likes what he knows. Hunting, fishing, golfing, and producing legendary grilled salmon from his green egg out in his cook shack are some of his favorite endeavors. One thing you won’t find him opting in for though is traveling. It lends itself to too many what-ifs and unknowns - all of the uncontrollable variables that coincide with venturing out on the open road. And with that, I submit my platform of storytelling and let the white-bearded Iron Ron take the helm for this one…
Pearl Takes Me Westward
Written by: Ron Collar
“My youngest son, Mason, asked me to write about my experience with the Black Pearl for his bearded ventures blog. Even though I was the editor for my high school newspaper and journalism minor in college I don’t think my writing skills will match those of Mason’s. He has shared some stories in this blog that have been riveting and have placed me there with him while reading them. As most of you now know Mason and Hannah were married on November 13, in Marietta, Georgia. They decided that they would experience something different and Hannah would become a travel nurse and Mason would join her wherever she landed and perform his work duties remotely.
Hannah’s first 13-week contract was going to be in San Luis Obispo, California. She started in late January. They decided to travel to the destination in her vehicle together which left them with only one vehicle in California. Sometime before they left Little Rock, we were having a conversation about that situation and my new daughter-in-law asked me if I would consider driving Mason’s Ford Transit camper van to California a few weeks after they settled into their new surroundings. Well, who can say no to their new daughter-in-law? They offered to put me up for a couple of nights and fly me home.
Keep in mind this was the same van Mason lived out of for six months during his western adventure trout fishing expedition. This is also the same van that has well over 170,000 miles on it and has been submerged in 4-5 feet of water. (See previous bearded venture blog for more details about that). I kept the Black Pearl at my home in central Arkansas after they had departed for California to become a little bit familiar with it. I performed a little work on it while in my possession and had a few things checked out prior to leaving so I could be somewhat comfortable making the 1868 mile westward journey to California. I had several thoughts before I left whether or not I had made a rational decision to deliver the Black Pearl to California. I was honestly beginning to have some doubts about Pearl’s capabilities. Those of you who know me know that I always have a plan and I work my plan so there are no or very few surprises. What could possibly go wrong with a high mileage van that had been mostly underwater? Granted, Sullivan’s Automotive had spent several weeks replacing all the fluids, draining the gas tank, and replacing the computer in the van trying to get it rolling down the road once again. They had done an admirable job. It had several creaks and rattles and had 4 different warning lights flashing on it. I was told don’t worry about those they were just electronic issues and there really weren’t any problems. The low tire pressure warning light, the door ajar warning light, and the engine light came off and on at their discretion. I knew the tires weren’t low, no doors were ajar and the engine seemed to be running reasonably well.
My van adventure began on the morning of February 23. My first goal was to drive to Oklahoma City and spend the night with my brother-in-law, John Clark. With friends in Fort Smith and John in Oklahoma City, I figured if something did go haywire with the van I would be able to get someone to come get me. I figured if the van could make the 5-hour trek to OKC it might have a chance to make it all the way to California. The first day was great. Driving 65 miles an hour so as not to push Pearl too hard the first day I arrived in OKC and John took me out to a great little Mexican restaurant for dinner. Piece of cake right? The next morning I awoke to about an inch of sleet on the roads. Did I mention I hate driving on snow or ice? Not because of me of course but all the other want to be NASCAR drivers on the road. I pulled out about 9:30 am so the other traffic could clear some and maybe wear down some of the sleet. My front tires were spinning on flat ground before I got out of John’s neighborhood. Oh, joy. I made it to I-40 and headed West. The big trucks had worn one fairly clear lane on the freeway however most would pass me on the still icy side because I was only driving about 40mph. I learned that gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles didn’t help much. You just come to expect that you weren’t going to be able to see much until they got around you. Thank goodness I had replaced the windshield wipers before I left Little Rock. The road became fairly clear after reaching Texas. When I exited the freeway at Tucumcari, New Mexico, to get some expensive gas I tapped the brakes as I was rolling down the exit. Something didn’t feel right. The van was slowing but the brakes weren’t responsive. I was pressing hard but not stopping as it should. After conversing with Mason I decide to try to make it to Albuquerque where I could find a brake shop the next morning to check things out. I made it to Albuquerque that night and was glad to see the motel room that had been reserved. I found an Applebee’s and enjoyed a nice dinner. I just kept a lot of distance between myself and the vehicles in front of me while on my way. The next morning came and I looked outside and screamed NOOOOO! It was following me. Another two inches of snow had fallen during the night. I found a brake shop the next morning and they agreed to look at the van to determine what was causing the sluggish brakes. After a couple of hours, they determined they didn’t have the expertise to repair what they thought was the problem and didn’t have the parts required anyway. They suggested I take it to a Ford dealership. Well, we found one that could give us a diagnosis that day. Only one problem…..it was 25 miles northwest of me towards the foothills where the roads were even slicker than they were in town. Of course, the Ford dealership two miles down the road couldn’t fit me in until the following week. I was seriously beginning to question my sanity in accepting this challenge.
I finally arrived at the Ford dealership in Chalmers, NM. They were able to get me in fairly quickly just as they had promised. After about three hours they came to see me. I was expecting a fix to be in the four-digit range since it was a dealership and they knew they had me in a pickle. Prayers were answered. I was told they had performed a complete diagnostic check on the brakes and couldn’t find anything to fix. Whew!!! Apparently, the brake shop unintentionally fixed whatever the problem was without realizing it. Do I believe in miracles? Absolutely! The first shop acknowledged they felt what I was feeling in the brakes and couldn’t fix it and the dealership couldn’t find anything wrong. Don’t ask me???? All I know was that after paying $82 to check the brakes, they were now working properly. As Willie Nelson sang about… ”On the road again”. I’m off again. I grabbed a quick Chick-Fil-A sandwich and continued my journey westward.
I drove late and made it all the way to Flagstaff, Arizona. Did I mention Flagstaff had received 12 inches of that white stuff the day before? It was still around when I arrived. While entering Flagstaff around 8 pm I spotted a familiar sight……A Cracker Barrel Restaurant. I was famished. The sandwich I had grabbed at 2 pm had long disappeared. After pulling off the freeway I discovered the side roads were still covered in snow and pretty slick. There weren’t a half dozen people in the restaurant because they close at 9 pm. I ordered catfish with pinto beans, turnip greens, and cornbread. My meal tasted great even though I discovered they prepare turnip greens a little different out West than they do in the South. I must have looked pretty beat down and pitiful while eating my meal. I was exhausted after my hectic day. I found out that some wonderful person had paid for my meal when I approached the cash register to pay. I learned if I ever needed a free meal all you have to do was enter a restaurant looking beat down, whooped, tired and depressed and God just may deliver in the form of some kind soul buying your meal. I’ve never experienced that before in my life. I’ll have to pass that good deed along at some point very soon. I splurged on a Hampton Inn that night and got a very good night of sleep not having to think and worry about the brakes. I was reminded the next morning that the further West I went the higher the gas prices were. I filled up for $4.49 a gallon and was determined to make it to my destination that evening. Did I mention it was eight degrees in Flagstaff that morning? Ccccold!
I soon entered California where the temperatures started rising as well as the gas prices. I was now seeing $5.59 a gallon. California is different, very different. I did see some pretty country along the way and hit my first traffic jam in Bakersfield, California, the hometown of Merle Haggard… “Okie from Muskogee”. I was surprised at how much agricultural land was between Bakersfield and San Luis Obispo. I spotted fields of orange trees, lemon trees, spinach, lettuce, almond trees, and acres upon acres of grape vineyards. I thought all the wine country was further North. I was wrong. I pulled into Mason’s and Hannah’s place that evening around 7:30 pm and was greeted with a couple of homemade pizzas. Their hospitality was simply divine. I felt like a King. They even put me up at the local Motel 6 since they aren’t allowed to host overnight guests in their 600 sq. ft. studio apartment. Guess what? Motel 6 actually left the light on for me. The next couple of days were spent sightseeing, hiking, and sampling some of the very good local “expensive” cuisine. California is pricey and that doesn’t go well for a natural-born cheapskate. Mason took me to the airport Tuesday morning for my return flight home to Arkansas. I do love the Black Pearl however I’m really glad I don’t have to drive her for a while. Over and out.”
