Day 17 -- Gilroy, California to Lodi, California -- 117 Miles

I decided to post photos of us running our RV through the Lodi truck wash this afternoon because we spent most of the day on the Intersate and didn't stop for photos.

So, tonight we're sleeping in Lodi, California, which puts me in mind of the RV we purchased back in 2013. In that momentus year, Concetta and I had finally decided to retire from our jobs in Nevada State government and pay more attention to recreating and traveling. Our decision to give up working was actually the second time we had "retired" as both of us had left our regular jobs and had gone to work for the Nevada State Legislature.

Concetta had moved from a full-time job with the legislature to a part-time job and really had remained just as busy. When I retired, it was from Nevada's Department of Public Safety where I had been a field trouble shooter for the department's IT unit. After I left in 2008, I signed up to work the legislative sessions which occupied six months out of every two years. Once again, I worked in the IT section and I ended up working for three legislative sessions ending in 2013 when we both retired again.

I bring this up because arriving in Lodi today put me in mind of how we got started RVing after our retirement. In my spare time during the summer of 2013, I trolled through Craigslist looking for a used rig of sufficient size that we might comfortably live in for one to several months. At the same time, we would look at rigs that came on the market in our own area but had not found one we liked.

Then along came a Craigslist advertisement posted in Lodi, California. It was the fall of 2013, and the ad listed a thirty-one foot, Class C motorhome on a Ford Chassis with only 31,000 miles on the clock. That sounded good to us, and Concetta and I called the owner and made an appointment to travel to Lodi to see the rig.

When we arrived in Lodi, we met with the owner, drove the 1996 vintage RV around some rural roads, and decided on the spot to make an offer. The price we agreed upon was something like $13,500. We did notice that the rig lacked a spare tire, and we requested that the owner remedy that problem before we brought our cashier's check and picked it up. He agreed, we shook hands, and then Concetta and I headed for home.

Though it was a lovely sunny and warm fall day in Lodi, by the time Concetta and I had driven a few miles toward home on the challenging Hwy 88, a storm had blown in and, incredibly, snow was being forecast on the radio. We had to drive Hwy 88 over Carson Pass on our way to Lodi, and naturally sought to return that way. But each mile that we drove toward the mountain, the clouds over the Sierra looked more ominous.

Still, though the weather looked gray and ugly, I thought we'd be okay. After all, it had been sunny in Lodi, right?

Well, as we started the long climb into the foothills, things began to look decidedly NOT okay! In fact, random snowflakes began to lightly drift down on the highway, and I found myself clutching the steering wheel more firmly. So far we hadn't been turned back by the Highway Department, but I couldn't help but entertain thoughts of having to return to Lodi for the night.

We had taken our four-wheel-drive pickup which we always insist on driving when we tackle the mountains in the fall and winter. We might not encounter bad weather, but we had to be prepared at all times. I just hoped we wouldn't have to have chains which I carried, but vehemently hated to install.

By the time we approached the summit at 8,574 feet, the snow was falling like Mother Nature had decided to get a year's worth of snow delivered to alleviate the water problem in the West in one night. It had become a blizzard, snow was blowing horizontally rather than falling vertically, and we had reduced our speed by seventy-five percent. Still, we had not encountered any roadblocks.

When we finally topped the summit, you could not see ahead more than a hundred feet. Mother Nature had delivered a full-blown blizzard and no one besides us appeared to be trying to drive in it. Still, we pressed on, and began to descend from Carson pass in low gear, with a prayer in our hearts, and a vice grip on the wheel.

It was at this juncture that headlights appeared somewhere in front of us, and soon a driver approached from the opposite direction in a pickup truck. As his lights bounced off the blizzard and blinded us in the process, I knew that each of us was wondering just what kind of fool would be out on Carson Pass on such a treacherous night.

Inconceivably, as the other crazy driver passed us in the opposite lane, we saw he was towing a boat and trailer. Good God! If there was ANYTHING you wouldn't want to be hauling over a 8,574 foot pass in a blizzard whiteout, it would have to be a boat.

Anyway, the boat owner was soon out of sight in the rearview mirror's swirling snow, and we were left alone to granny-gear our way down the steep mountain road at 10 miles an hour.

Thankfully, Concetta and I soon dropped below the blizzard level and made it the rest of the way home without incident. Come 2014, the newly purchased Fleetwood Tioga in our yard was well-stocked for the open road. Soon, we would joyuously add another 20,000 miles to the rig's original 31,000 miles on the clock. Throughout those many happy miles we would travel from coast-to-coast more than once and see many of things we'd always wanted to see in America.

The beautiful conclusion to this story is that Concetta and I had found the love of our mutual lives, traveled to every corner of our great land in that, rig and a much newer, thirty-two foot replacement, and further cemented our many decades of marriage in pursuit of the things we love. What more could anyone ask for?