Day 1 to McLean, Ill

It’s that time of year again. Welcome back to the Long Family Travel Blog. The next three weeks will find our family trekking down Route 66 and exploring the American Southwest.

I wasn’t planning to write a blog entry today. It was kind of a non-day. A prologue. A preface. The part of the book that everyone skips because they’re anxious to get the story started.

My original plan was to leave tomorrow and drive from Lafayette to Tulsa, Oklahoma, in a day. It would have been a long day — made longer by the road construction my map app warns me about — with absolutely no time to stop at any Route 66 sites along the way.  So, I tacked on this little preamble — a two-and-a-half-hour hop from Lafayette to McLean, Illinois — to cut down a bit on the drive time tomorrow. This stop sets us up to hop on Route 66 first thing in the morning.

Charlie and Clare performed in a summer-school band concert this evening, so we didn’t hit the road until 9 p.m.  It was late, but we were all giddy, belting out songs from the “Hamilton” soundtrack and marveling at a sliver of tangerine moon slung low in the inky sky.

In my mind, the vacation doesn't start until tomorrow, until we really, truly get on the road. Until we can’t see Indiana in our rearview mirror. Until even Illinois is long behind us, and the ribbon of Route 66 unfurls in front of us, leading us to parts unknown. So I’ve been anxious to just get to McLean, roll into bed, wake up and start the trip. 

We’re staying at a Super 8 here, because it was the only option. And because they have a room with three queen beds. Have you ever stayed in a Super 8? After stepping over the stained carpet and squeezing past the washer and dryer in the lobby, I’m realizing that I’ve never stayed in a Super 8, and I probably won’t stay in one again — even though that giant, beautiful ginger viking guy from “Game of Thrones” is the spokesperson.

Okay, so here’s why I’m posting, even though I wasn’t planning to write a blog entry on this non-day that doesn’t even count as part of our vacation.

I got out of the van in front of the McLean Super 8, started unloading the van and noticed that the electrical outlet on the hitch — the part that receives the plug from the trailer so that the Teardrop’s brake lights and turn signals have power — was all bent out of shape. This was not too much of a surprise. That part is mounted so low under the rear bumper that it bottoms out every time we go over a speed bump, or pull out of our driveway. And tonight, as we were turning on to Highland Avenue from the Long Family driveway, we bottomed out bad. But we didn’t think too much of it, because it happens often. And we thought it was the actual steel hitch that was scraping, instead of the electrical outlet.

But standing in front of the McLean Super 8 at 11:30 at night I also noticed something much more alarming. Not only was the outlet on the van hitch twisted and mangled, but the plug from the trailer had dislodged itself from the outlet and had been dragging on the asphalt all this way — maybe all the way from Lafayette. We had just driven 143 miles without turn signals or brake lights. And even worse, the plug itself had been shredded into a worthless nub.

Keith and I stood there and puzzled over this for several minutes, formulating contingency plans and trying not to stress too much and freak out the kids. How on earth will we get this fixed?  Where will we find the parts? How long will it take? We have to get on the road tomorrow. We have reservations in Tulsa, and in New Mexico the next day, and in Arizona the day after that. This derails our entire itinerary. 

Keith’s Plan B involves using hand signals out the window of the van for the next three weeks, as we drive to California and back. I have vetoed this idea, because we are not the Griswolds. 

My Plan B involves leaving the Teardrop in the Super 8 parking lot, continuing on our trip without it, and switching some campground reservations to motel stays. Keith vetoed that idea because he says it’s ridiculous. 

Plan C is to google auto repair in McLean, Ill., with fingers crossed. 

What are the odds? The search turned up John Graf Repairs, which is just through the McDonald’s parking lot, past the Blimpie sub shop and across the road from where we are right now. Keith called the 24-hour service number, John came right over, took one look and said, “Oh, yeah, I’ve got those parts. I see this all the time.” He took the van and the Teardrop and said he’d have it ready for us by 7:30 a.m.

In Natalie’s words, the first day went off without a hitch. Literally.