LOUISIANA
On the day we planned to leave I awoke in a Bob Ross painting. Looking out the window from my bed I could see through a happy forest of scraggly short leaf pine a robin’s egg blue sky scattered with small fluffy cotton ball clouds. We had to be moving on. We left Boles Field on Memorial Day−the perfect campground for a holiday weekend−and crossed over into Louisiana. There were no signs welcoming us to Louisiana; I didn’t need any to tell me we were no longer in Texas. Everyone drove slower and the roads deteriorated badly−an obstacle course of potholes and crevasse-size cracks. There is probably a correlation there. I pulled into a small Walmart Camper Village in Mansfield which someone traveling in a van had left a review that he had a difficult time in finding a suitable spot. My first thought: this will do. I was miserable with my neck and just wanted to lie down and rest. It was now mid-afternoon. I heard some loud talking going on outside. It seems a large portion of the folks in Louisiana were loud talkers. Billy would fare well living in Louisiana. After a bit of this noise I saw the local police out the front window. I had to get up to see what was going on.
There were two black guys going on with the cop about something regarding a parked car in front of us the next lane over. I couldn’t make out too well what was being said what with their strong Louisiana dialect but based on how the three of them were acting around the right rear wheel of the car I assumed the guys had seen a snake slither up into the wheel of the car. And so the fun began.
First they brought out a spray can of WD-40 and sprayed lubricant into the wheel. Then they retrieved a tire iron and a steering wheel lock bar from the trunk of their car and began poking and banging about. Somewhere one of the guys had found a five foot long stick. They started in using it. The two guys left the cop there to keep an eye on the situation while they went off into Walmart. They returned with a four-pack of Raid insect fogger cans. The three of them set off the foggers waving them around the wheel, in the wheel well and back around the gas tank. More poking, prodding and banging with the stick ensued. From somewhere a can of Raid ant spray came into play. That was applied all around the rear of the car. Then a passerby in a truck stopped. He donated his pump spray container filled with what was most likely weed killer. That was emptied out all around underneath the car and on all four wheels. After each method of chemical applications they returned to stick banging. The poor car took a beating. After over an hour of this nonsense two more cops pulled in. Both of them began banging and beating on the car as if their efforts would succeed where the others had failed. Shortly thereafter cop number one left. The other two cops hung around for a bit longer then they too left leaving the original two civilians unsupervised. A friend of theirs came by and offered up a red plastic gas can with a splash of gasoline left inside. One of the guys went around pouring gasoline in behind all four wheels. Okay, now I was getting ready to make a quick exit for these two nincompoops had been smoking off and on during this entire escapade. Fortunately they gave up and left after two hours of trying to get the snake to come out. They left a note on the back windshield for the owner. Another passerby who had been watching the action for awhile left a note on the front windshield advising the owner a snake had been observed crawling up underneath the car and several methods had been used in getting it to leave, all unsuccessfully. I added to the note that I would take the car to the car wash and wash all four wheels, wheel wells and the gas tank to remove all “methods” used.
Less than an hour had passed after I laid back down trying to rest my neck pain when a large tour bus pulled up and stopped. It appeared the bus had made the local casino circuit tour and was returning the happy gamblers to their parked cars. Gasoline man happened to return at this time. He regaled the bingo players of today’s drama in great detail. Many of the gamblers stood around−at a safe distance should the snake all of a sudden decides to make his getaway−listening to his tale including the two women the car belonged to. They naturally didn’t want anything to do with their car. Now the bus driver got involved and was brave enough to approach the car, unlock the door and start it up. He even drove the car around the parking lot as if this would get rid of the snake. The two women still weren’t having any of this and gasoline man gave them a ride home. A half an hour later one of the women returned in a pick-up truck driven by an older man. She still wanted nothing to do with her car. The old guy drove it away in the rain with both notes still under the wipers while the lady drove the pickup truck following her car and the snake.
We left the Mansfield snake derby roundup the next morning for a campground between Natchitoches and Winnfield−Gum Springs in the Kisatchie National Forest. If I thought the road to Mansfield was bad, this route far exceeded it. We pulled in to a nicely done campground; in fact it appeared to have been recently refurbished. At ten dollars a night (half that for us) and with no other campers present we had struck home once again with a good spot to stay. No electricity this time and water was available at various points around the loop. The only bad point was the weak cell service.
The first thing I discovered once settled in was my flimsy repair to the broken refrigerator door hinge of sometime ago had once again broke. That damn road! I didn’t want to have to deal with this again but I had no choice. I mixed up a batch of JB Weld and after I shimmed the door in position I applied the epoxy and let it sit. I used the five minute JB Weld this time but still let it set all day and ate whatever I could not having to get into the refrigerator. The thought came to me from now on I would place the wood shim in at the bottom of the door each time before driving thus hopefully eliminating any up and down jarring.
After a good night’s rain the next day looked suitable for some exploring. The refrigerator door opened and shut fine with my repair holding. With that behind me I took off. Having learned from Boles Field that traipsing off through the forest wasn’t such a good idea what with hidden rattlesnakes and copperheads not to mention the impenetrable thick foliage laced with vines holding me back every step of the way, I stuck to a graded service road. I was trying to get to a small lake I could see through the woods. All of the day use area was ribboned off−CLOSED−for some reason. Skirting around the closed area I made it to the small lake which wasn’t inviting for a swim what with thick submerged weeds all around the shoreline. Not much to see here. I headed back for home. Along the way I came across a notice wrapped to a tree but folded down in half due to the wet. I lifted up the folded portion only to discover a live wasp nest underneath. I didn’t stick around to read the notice. Continuing on I found another notice lying on the ground, this one wasp free. It was warning the visitor of the ever present hazard of falling trees especially due to hurricane Laura passing through the area last August of 2020. The hurricane was the strongest to have ever made landfall in Louisiana with sustained winds of one hundred fifty miles per hour. Perhaps this was why the campground looked so nice; they had to totally rebuild it?
That afternoon with the sun providing some solar I decided to fire up the laptop and bring my journal up to date. Switching on the pure sine wave inverter for the computer power it made an odd noise. Something was amiss. I don’t need this! It was too warm. I’m a sticky mess. My neck is doing me no favors. I knew I couldn’t lie down and rest ignoring the inverter problem. I had to see what the heck was going on. Electrics aren’t my strong point. I cleaned away corrosion build up at the battery terminal. I added water to the batteries. I removed the inverter, took the end off and blew out dust and cat hair. I took voltage readings all along the route from the alligator clip at the battery to the connection at inverter. It read 13.7 at all points but acted like it wasn’t getting enough voltage to operate properly. It was the strangest thing. I bypassed the positive wire and jumped it directly from the battery to the inverter. The inverter worked with no odd noise! Well that was a relief. It was something along the positive wire even though it showed full voltage all the way. It turned out to be a crimp connector midway that was green with corrosion inside where I could not see without removing the insulation covering of the wire. Removing the connector and touching the wires together the inverter worked fine. I put in a new crimp connecter then put everything thing away. I was exhausted. I must have spent nearly two hours on the repair. I went around behind the camper and wet myself down with a rag and jug of water which rejuvenated me immensely. Now I could rest. The journal would wait until another time.
We would have stayed longer (Beans liked it at Gum Springs) but the iffy slow cell service was annoying so we left on the third day. Our goal was Vidalia just on the west side of the Mississippi River across from Natchez, Mississippi. It was around an eighty-mile drive which seemed twice that considering Louisiana’s dismal road conditions. When we reach Jena it was nearing noon. I was hungry not having eaten much breakfast before leaving. I was not much into eating in the humid heat. Maybe that is why Beans hadn’t shown any interest in her wet food. She only wanted kibble and only a little bit at that. In Jena I would try to find some local cuisine. At least this was the plan but when I saw a Popeye’s fast food place, well I never had been to one but had seen them all over the country. They’re advertised as a Louisiana Kitchen cooking. That was close enough for me. I parked in the shade of a large tree in an abandoned furniture store parking lot and walked on over nearly getting mowed down by a local. Pedestrians evidently do not have a right of way in Louisiana.
Safely at Popeye’s I found the lobby door locked. LOBBY CLOSED DUE TO LABOR SHORTAGE. Drat. I side-stepped over to the drive-up window. The woman asked what I wanted. I asked if I had to go stand at the drive-in order speaker stand to place an order. “I’m in a large motor home. That’s why I am walking.” She told me to go stand by the front door. “Someone will meet you there.” Soon a lady opened the door and I caught the strong scent of cigarette smoke. Was it her or the entire crew inside puffing away?
“What would you like?”
“Just a sandwich.”
“You want anything else?”
“Nope”
“ONE CLASSIC!!” she hollered over her shoulder. “That’ll be four thirty-seven.” I gave her a five.
Within a minute she was back with my change and handed me my sandwich. That was the fastest fast food transaction ever.
I walked back to the RV being extra mindful of Louisiana drivers taking aim at me. I pulled out a cold can of A&W root beer. Unwrapping the sandwich I was impressed with the bun. Not some cheap flattened piece of hamburger bun I normally got with burgers; this had a nice glazed outer shell. Inside was a good inch thick piece of fried chicken. Now I am not one who goes for chicken sandwiches; I prefer cow. At the first bite they had me. This sandwich was outstanding. I had been converted. Popeye’s chicken sandwiches had moved into the number one spot of my quick fast food eatery selections. I caught up the journal afterwards, the sun had moved out from behind the shade trees and it was time to continue on to Mississippi.