Having dedicated several months to planning and more than a week to packing, you’d think we were headed off on a smooth-sailing adventure. Naturally, that was our first mistake. Life had other plans. She showed up, looked over our carefully constructed itinerary, and simply said, “Ain’t gonna happen.”
The plan was flawless: sleep late, start packing the car about 8:00, and be on the road at precisely 9:00. Easy, right? Apparently not. At 5:30, the sleep gremlin crawled out from whatever dark corner of the bedroom it inhabits, poked me awake, and apparently decided that sleeping until 7:00 was an unreasonable luxury. After lying there long enough to become thoroughly bored, I finally surrendered. We left at 8:00—which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. The gremlin had won, but at least it got us on the road early.
Most of today’s drive would not qualify as scenic unless your definition of scenic includes an impressive collection of sand, scrub, rocks, and an occasional tree trying desperately to prove it belongs there. Interstate 10 West from Buckeye, Arizona, to Blythe, California, crosses a vast stretch of Western desert filled with... well, almost nothing. There are a few trees—small trees, but trees nonetheless. Towns are few, small, and spaced far enough apart to make you wonder if the previous one was actually there or just a mirage.
What the desert lacks in scenery, it more than makes up for in trucks. Lots and lots of trucks. Interstate 10 is a major artery for goods moving inland from the ports around Long Beach, California, and the parade of semis heading east seems to have no end. Mile after mile, they roll along carrying containers, packages, machinery, and who knows what else. Much of it began its journey halfway around the world in China and is now making its way toward the heartland. Apparently, even the desert has become part of the supply chain.
The first stop of the day was for a mocha at Starbucks in Blythe. This has to be the fifth or sixth time we have refueled there. Blythe is right on the Arizona/California border, with the first offramp being Intake Boulevard. I believe this is where those escaping the Dust Bowl in the 1930s were taken into California. Think The Grapes of Wrath.
Next was US 95, which I have referred to in the past, and still do, as the Roller Coaster. When it rains, this area often suffers flash floods, and the dips in the road carry water from the mountains down toward the Colorado River. This is another road one is happy to see disappearing in the rearview mirror.
Our lunch today was a first for us. We had never had a smashburger, and for once we went off the script and decided to give one a try. Were we ever surprised! It was great, as was the service at Needles Smash Burgers. This is one we would recommend if you happen to find yourself in Needles. If you do find yourself in Needles, please let me know how that happened.
So far, it had been a fairly calm day, and we were settling in for the last leg from Needles to Barstow. Then, about an hour down the road, things changed in a hurry. The electric power steering suddenly stopped providing power, and I was instantly back to driving a 1949 Ford. But that was only the beginning. One by one, the warnings started appearing until the entire instrument cluster was glowing orange. No lane following. No cruise control. No tire-pressure monitoring. No emergency braking. And then more warnings, seemingly without end, as every one of those really cool computer functions disappeared. The car was still moving, but it was becoming very clear that a lot of its electronic safety net had just vanished. My instrument cluster had turned into a large Halloween pumpkin, and I was beginning to wonder what might fail next.
Did I panic? Well, maybe a little. Barb, meanwhile, went into problem-solving mode and located the nearest Honda dealer—nearest being about two hours away. I was soon on the phone with a very nice service advisor. She listened patiently to my tale of woe and, while she was very sympathetic, had no idea what could be wrong. The only thing she could offer was for us to bring the car in the next day. Then, almost as an afterthought, she suggested shutting off the engine, waiting 15 minutes, and seeing what happened.
So there we were, with no real plan other than hoping the car would continue to behave itself. We plodded along at about 56 MPH down the interstate, watching for a place to pull off and try the engine-shutoff trick. It was a little like when the tech tells you to turn the router off and on again to reset it—except this time the router weighed several thousand pounds and we were sitting in the middle of the desert.
Finally, an exit appeared, and I decided it was time to take the chance. My biggest worry was that once I shut the engine off, it might decide not to start again. We pulled off, stopped, and waited. Fifteen minutes can seem like a very long time when you are wondering whether your car is going to cooperate.
Finally, I pressed the start button. The engine came to life. Good start. Then I checked the steering. Power steering was back! That was a huge relief, but the orange warnings were still staring back at me from the instrument cluster. We had gained some ground, but the Halloween pumpkin was still glowing.
Needing gas, I pulled into the Chevron station and, after discovering the California way to use a credit card—it’s not at the pump—I purchased a small quantity of unleaded. $7.91 per gallon? No, wait. $40 bought me 5.06 gallons. Either way, it was not exactly a bargain.
Then came the moment we had been hoping for. I started the engine again, and this time the instrument cluster came alive clean and normal. No orange warnings. No list of missing systems. No Halloween pumpkin. The power steering was working, the warnings were gone, and suddenly the car was back to being the car we had started the day with. After all that drama, the simple sight of a normal dashboard had never looked so good.
The rest of the day was uneventful, which was perfectly fine with me. I had pretty much reached my limit on events for one day.
Check-in at our motel was delayed, so we used the extra time to find some fajitas for dinner. Nothing fancy, but after the day we had just experienced, dinner and a little downtime sounded pretty good.
It wasn’t a great day, but we made it through, the car seemed to have recovered, and tomorrow is another day. We’ll be up and running again in the morning—hopefully with considerably fewer events.
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