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The story behind the Alamo tweets

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Well, the epic vacation that was two years in the making has ended. I had intended to post as we went but there were some extenuating circumstances prohibiting that. One was Internet access. Sometimes it was great, sometimes it wasn’t. Another factor was school work. I had to make sure I got that submitted when I did have Internet access. And the final factor was the Great Tire Blow Out of 2013. So here’s part one of the Cowboy Hunting Story: The day Johnny Cash died.

This is Johnny's wheel, after the tire blew out on the highway. This thing set off a chain of events we've been dealing with for 11 days now.

This is Johnny’s wheel, after the tire blew out on the highway. This thing set off a chain of events we’ve been dealing with for 11 days now.

Meet Johnny Cash. He’s a black Hyundai Elantra we barely got to know before he was snuffed out. And by that I mean his tire blew on I-90W in Montana the second day we drove him. It was an epic blow out. One minute everything is fine, the next minute the car is shaking and I see the tire go flying away from the car in the side view. Panic set in when the brakes didn’t respond and we ended up using the emergency brake to stop on the shoulder. We held it together long enough to call Alamo’s roadside assistance request help. Trouble was, little did we know that a blown tire was going to rob us of a day and then take another 11 days to clear up with Alamo.

I’ll give you the short version of a very long story. (The short version is still too long, I’ll warn ya.) We called Alamo, gave them our location, almost to the mile marker – quite a feat in a rural area without much to tell us where we were. We told them we didn’t have a spare in the trunk – just a can of fix a flat and an air pump. As you can see in the photo, the only thing left flat was the rim. About 30 minutes later, I get a call from someone else in Roadside. She says that they don’t have a highway number in the request. Funny, because I’d gone over it with the first person. That’s when I started taking notes.

Meanwhile, we were watching the second storm in two days approach us over the mountains. It looked like a doozy headed our way, and when a sheriff’s deputy from nearby Columbus, Mont,, stopped by to check on us he was equally concerned about us being stranded on the highway in that storm. The only people who weren’t concerned? Alamo. (The same cop came by a second time after the storm passed and told us if he had to come by again, he’d force us to leave the car — but we’ll get to all that.)

Mike from All-Star Towing in Laurel, Mont., showed up around 6 p.m., while it was still raining. He cheerily notified us he was there for a tire change, and seemed genuinely confused when I explained that we didn’t have a spare, and Alamo was aware of this in the first conversation. He stayed with us until I called Alamo back, and again requested a tow for the car. He left us with his card and told us to call if we needed anything. We ❤ Mike. I’ll get to why later.

He left us around 6:15 p.m. For the next two hours, we watched a storm pass, saw a rainbow and viewed our first Montana sunset over the distant mountains. We had a great view in the car. But its kind of hard to enjoy natural beauty when you’re about to lose it. Montana dark isn’t like Cincinnati dark. Here, we have street lights and people constantly moving around. There, when the sun sets the only light you have is the moon and what you bring with you. And that’s terrifying when you ain’t from around them there parts. Plus, I spent most of that time calling about six different people with Alamo and Enterprise, Alamo’s parent company, and either I was told there was a tow truck ordered or I was told something like, “I think there was one ordered. Let me check.” Then I would sit on hold until either the call dropped or someone else called me. Service isn’t great between two rock formations in the middle of nowhere.

Salvation came in the form of Mike sending his girlfriend, Tina, to come pick us up. (This is why we ❤ Mike.) He called us around 8 p.m. and told us that she was on her way. I cried tears of joy, and I’m so not a crier. Then Alamo called me and said they found someone to pick me up (SO not true) and advised me to leave the keys in the unlocked car. I was going to take the keys, but I did what I was told. I even tried to find out what hotel they wanted me to go to, but no one could give me an answer before Tina arrived. We also ❤ Tina.

Around 9 p.m. we checked into a hotel in Laurel, Mont., and that’s when I finally get the automated call from Alamo. They ordered us a tow truck and it would arrive in 70 minutes. I was too exhausted and glad to be off the highway to even be annoyed anymore. It was four-and-a-half hours from my first call and three and a half from my second call before they finally ordered a tow truck.

Once we got settled in (and I ate half a pizza), I tried calling back to see when we’d have working wheels. Apparently every rental car in the state was taken. I guess they don’t keep many around. Once I realized that I was banging my head against the wall, I tried talking to the manager of the Denver Alamo office, where we picked up the car,about getting refunded for all the extra expenses we were racking up. He wasn’t exactly helpful that first time I spoke to him. I was told to bring receipts to his office at the end of our trip and he’d “see what he can do.” Then he interrogated me about why I left the keys in the car. As if it was going anywhere.

I called it a night around 11 p.m., not long after I got a call from Alamo asking me if the car was picked up. It was six-and-a-half hours after my first call for help. I assume that’s about when the car was picked up; obviously I don’t know the exact time because I wasn’t there.

The next morning we had issues with someone finding a replacement car. First, the Enterprise concierge who was trying to help us didn’t believe the front desk clerk that there was only one taxi service in a town of about 7,000, so she spent a half an hour trying to shop around. (Really? How hard is that to believe? Its a small town!) Once we finally got to the Billings airport (the same place that had no cars for us the night before), the clerks at the Alamo desk had no idea what we were talking about. And they had no cars. They said they should have a minivan available sometime but they didn’t know when. Remember the storm we sat through on the highway? Well, it flooded parts of Billings and covered the entire city in mud, compliments of “the rims” as our taxi driver explained to us. When Billings gets a bad storm, the sandstone formations surrounding the city erode quickly and the dust in the air turns to mud from the rain, coating Montana’s biggest city in a layer of mud. So everything had to be cleaned. Honestly, I’m still not clear if the van had even been returned to Alamo yet.

We camped out on the airport floor for a minute and reflected. I’m not usually the type to let myself be a victim and I never let myself get into a position where I’m at the mercy of someone else. But that’s exactly where we found ourselves. We were stuck in a city “a long way from home” as every Montanan we met was quick to point out. So why was super-independent, take-no-prisoners me sitting on an airport floor waiting for a minivan I wasn’t even sure was coming from a company who didn’t seem to care whether or not I was safe or not? Lacey and I took matters into our own hands and we were out of the airport in 30 minutes.

I started going from counter to counter with the rental car agencies and Avis had mercy on us. The clerks were awesome and when they offered us a car, I about cried tears of joy for the second time in 12 hours. We got the heck out of Billings and headed on our merry way to Glacier National Park.

We were able to get on with our vacation and only lost one day, but the struggle didn’t end. I kept getting calls from Alamo reps telling me I had to pay for things with the car and then they got my insurance company involved and they started calling me. About Wednesday, three days after the tire blew, I stopped taking the calls and started focusing on my vacation. When I got home Monday I started making calls again. Its taken me the better part of the week, but after initially denying me, Hotwire finally refunded me a prorated portion of my rental fee. Alamo initially charged me for the tire after the claims supervisor told me I wouldn’t have to pay for it. As of this evening the Denver manager promises that will be refunded to me. I did get a letter from Alamo telling me I could be held responsible for fees accrued from all the days they had to sideline the car while all this worked out, but I haven’t been billed yet. (I’ll be sure to update if I am.)

So we moved on with our trip, I went through hell but finally got my money back, and the second time I talked to the manager of the Denver office he had a completely different attitude. So, the moral of the story is, I won’t be using Hotwire anymore (they tried to offer me $25 credit on a future order instead of just refunding my car rental fee). Despite Alamo’s about-face this evening and the fact that they did (finally) make it right, I am not likely to rent from them again. If you ever decide to use either service, pack your boxing gloves. You’ll likely get everything squared away in the end, but you’ll need to be able to come out swinging to make it happen.

Karaoke-hiking (and other bear safety tips)

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Elk have quite the sense of humor accompanying their size and general dangerousness. I lifted this picture from Yellowstone National Park's Facebook page August 30.

Elk have quite the sense of humor to go with their size and general dangerousness. I lifted this picture from Yellowstone National Park’s Facebook page August 30.

There has never been a better time to visit Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. The summer crowds are dying down, the dog days of summer are behind us, the elk are in rut, the bears are about to hibernate and the wildfires are blazing. That’s right folks, Lacey and I are getting an earful on the daily from our respective parents about the dangers of this trip, why we need to be careful and the best ways to go about doing it. (Nevermind we’re almost 30 years old and smart enough not to chase after wild animals.)

So I thought I’d do a little research. What exactly are the dangers lurking in these unassuming national parks? How can we protect ourselves? Here’s what I found: A little common sense goes a long way.

See a bear off in the valley? Don’t go running after it with camera in tow. Is an elk camped on the side of the road leisurely munching grass? Take a through-the-window shot and keep it moving. Does that big bison look like he couldn’t move fast enough to harm a fly? Think again.

First off, the National Park Service is almost as worried about our safely as our parents are. It kind of mars the park image when someone gets mauled. So Yellowstone has put together bear safety videos and Glacier has its own safety page chock full of information. My takeaway:

  • Avoid an encounter with a bear. Hike in groups and make a lot of noise. Lacey and I intend to sing. It’ll be a karaoke hike.
  • If you do encounter a bear, know how to react, If it charges you, you need to defend yourself. If you just startle it and it starts acting a little like its trying to make a big show, just back away. Don’t try to out-alpha it.
  • Know how to use your bear spray — and what it’s limitations are. Its not insect repellent, as the park service is quick to point out. Think of it more like super-mace. You don’t want it anywhere near you.

Yellowstone also provides a nice elk safety video — basically don’t walk up to them or park your car next to them.

So, Toni and Sandy. Your daughters are armed with cutting edge National Park safety technology. I think we have a 99 percent chance of survival in the wild, wild west.

We will have pictures!

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This time, I will have pictures from something other than a BlackBerry and cheap Wal-Mart point and shoot.

This time, I will have pictures from something other than a BlackBerry and cheap Wal-Mart point and shoot. Still, this shot of “The Mittens” from Monument Valley in 2010 isn’t bad for a BlackBerry.

Remember the time I said 2013 may be the year I start posting more regularly? That was a good idea. Too bad I’m failing miserably at it so far. I mean, I’ve been working — a lot — and keeping busy with life projects in general. Life projects including working on that Montana respite that I take off for in approximately 23 days, 8 hours and 11 minutes. I think everyone Lacey follows on Instagram has been in Montana this summer and every time I get on Twitter there are about 500 tweets of pictures from Two-Medicine Lake, some mountain or other or something else breath-takingly beautiful that I just can’t wait to see. But the best part of this trip: Barring some unforeseen disaster, I will actually have pictures — and good ones at that. Lets recount some of my camera misadventures, shall we?

Flash back to 2010. I have recently purchased my first DSLR, a Nikon D5000. Its something of a reward to myself for just being me. So, I’m in the Scripps Program and just loving that I can use my fancypants camera at press conferences instead of the point and shoot our office had for us to use. Then, one day, I’m showing my family around DC when I walk off and leave my camera on a tour bus. I literally watch it drive away into the sunset. Even though I called the bus line almost immediately, of course no one ever saw it or turned it in. I replaced it some months later with the same model and haven’t had any mishaps since then, unless you count the time I dropped it down some steps on a miniature golf course in Panama City Beach a few years back.

Go back a little further to the summer of 2010. I had a point and shoot camera that had served me well and set off with it on the infamous Gypsy Trip. About a day and a half into the trip the battery dies and no matter what I do, I can’t get the thing to charge. On top of that, I have some kind of weird battery that can’t be found anywhere but on Amazon and so I am just out of luck. Rather than spend precious vacation funds on a camera, I bought a $40 off-brand something or other from a Wal-Mart somewhere along the Oregon Trail between here and Colorado. It took pictures, but that’s really the best thing I can say about it. I had a lot of issues with picture storage on that trip as well. Basically the whole excursion was a technological nightmare.

So this time, I’m going to be prepared. I’ve got backup batteries for my DSLR and video camera, back up memory cards, an external flash drive and  chargers for the car and wall outlets. Come what may – I’m getting good pictures from this trip. And if all else fails, Lacey is kind of an awesome photographer. I’ll just rip off some from her.

Less talk and more action

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Lewis Lake at Yellowstone National Park

Lewis Lake at Yellowstone National Park

I’ve spent the better part of this rainy Sunday catching up on reading various travel magazines and blogs wondering why I had to take a path to adulthood that made me a banker full time and a wannabe world traveler instead of someone like Wandering Earl who has been traveling  around the world for several years.

But, alas. I have too many bills (read: student loans) that I feel an obligation to pay, and so instead I work and cram all my travel exploits into one week a year. This year, the big adventure is to see Montana and Wyoming, with a glimpse of Denver to see my old roommate.

Saying I’m excited about this trip isn’t exactly accurate. Saying this trip is my lifeline to sanity is slightly closer to the truth. You see, I may be a banker but I don’t keep banker’s hours. College gave me enough debt to create my own international economic crisis, so I work overtime whenever I can get it which lately has been pretty much every day. The week spent in Big Sky Country will soothe my soul.

Our trip is going to start out in Denver, where we will then drive to Glacier National Park and hit Yellowstone National Park on our way back to Denver. We’re going to have about two days to spend in each park. I’m a little more excited for Glacier because I haven’t been there before — and I’m pretty sure that once I’m there I won’t want to ever leave — and we’re planning a big hike!

While my family is worried about serial killers and rapists abducting us in the wilderness, I’m more worried about my physical fitness. I’ve spent the last several years working (read: sitting on my fannie at a desk) and not spending a whole lot of time being active. So I’m as out of shape as I’ve ever been in my life and that has to change. So not only is this trip going to be theraputic to my soul, it’s going to benefit my physique.

Between now and September, Lacey and I are spending as much time hiking and exercising as we can and we’re both trying to eat healthier. No more mint chocolate chip ice cream binges. No more vegging on the couch all day (except for today, because it poured down rain all day). So look for some hiking blogs and some tales from the trails!

Aaaaannnnnddd We’re Back!

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This little slice of heaven is St. Mary's Lake in Glacier NP, one of the many places we visited on this trip.

This little slice of heaven is St. Mary’s Lake in Glacier NP, one of the many places we visited on this trip.

At least 100 times this year I have said to myself, “Self. You need to blog.” And about 75 percent of those times I actually had a blog-worthy idea. Do you know how many times I actually sat down to write? Maybe five.

A handful of drafts and one gorgeous Friday evening later, here you have it. The break of my writer’s strike. The conclusion of my writers block. I’m blogging again.

Lately I’ve been engrossed in all things travel. I am planning my first really big adventure since the infamous Gypsy Trip in 2010. This as- yet unnamed trip will take me and my long-time, fellow former newspapering friend Lacey westward. We are exploring both Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks. And even though we will only have about six days to hit both parks, we’re making the most of it.

This spring and summer we are both working on our fitness so we can hike in the wilderness. So, unlike the Gypsy Trip when I got a primer on just about every national park west of the Mississippi, I will actually be experiencing the trip. But more on all that later.

Right now I have a crying hound dog begging to go on a long walk.

Panama City or Bust!

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Above are some pictures from 2008, the last time I visited Florida. We visited Daytona Beach, Huntington Beach and Orlando.

If I learned anything from last year’s Gypsy Trip its that the keys to surviving long drives is good music, good directions and good company. Well, and wild berry Skittles. Yesterday I embarked on an 11-hour drive from my home in Walton, Ky., to Panama City, Fla. A piece of cake compared to last summer’s 7,000-mile adventure, but still a long time to be in a car. Thankfully, this time I have some new gadgets at my disposal.

I traded in my Blackberry for a Droid last fall, and with it came the never-ending app store. Y’all can have your iPhones. Sh’niqua (only sometimes) lets me down. Here are my top five road trip-approved apps:

Pandora Internet Radio

Its an endless supply music, as long as your network lasts.

My favorite thing about this channel is it plays more than just whats in my library. And the more you listen to it, the more it gets to know you. So I know that my Matchbox 20 channel I’ve had for years is always going to play something I want to hear and my Cage the Elephant station, the newest addition to my collection, will be in shape by the time I get to Florida. Plus, I can pipe it through the car speakers with the same adapter I use for my iPod.

AAA Triptik

Here’s where good directions come in. I love Google Maps, but sometimes they lead you wrong. Triptik has become my go to for directions. I can build a route on my computer, save it and download it to my phone and get turn-by-turn navigation when I’m on the road. Then, I can keep doing searches anywhere I am to find hotels, mechanics, attractions, restaurants and even campgrounds.

Gasbuddy

This is a good app to have for every day use anyway. You can use GPS or type in a search location to find nearby gas stations and compare prices. This helped me last week find gas five cents cheaper just a couple of miles from where I normally go.

GeoReader

After I nosed around the Android Market, I did a quick Google search to see what other people have used on their road trips. Most of them suggest the same things, but this blog was the first to suggest GeoReader.

The app is kind of a battery suck, so I’d only run it if I was connected to a constant source of power. As you drive, it searches the National Registry of Historic Sites for locations close to you, and announces them as you go by. The only downside is it hasn’t been giving me details of the locations.

Angry Birds Rio

Or the original Angry Birds or Angry Birds Seasons. Any one of these games will entertain you for hours.

I looked for a travel journal app that would help organize photos and video and allow me to post directly to Facebook and Twiiter, but I didn’t see anything that I was free or a somewhat reasonable price. But I’ll keep looking! What are some apps you can live without?

The end of an era

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This was day two of our internship. It feels like it was so long ago!

Looking over my last entry, I kind of get the feeling that I was feeling a little overwhelmed and homesick. It seems that I just fell off the face of the earth, never to be heard from again.

You won’t get rid of me that easy.

When I returned to the District after Thanksgiving, I was feeling a little down and a lot homesick. The holidays really are the most wonderful time of the year to me and my family. Every weekend we go to a different Christmas display and spend too much money buying each other gifts, baking and cooking stupendous meals. I’ve just finished eating my big Christmas dinner with my family before I sat down to finally post this entry.

But I didn’t really crawl under a rock my last three weeks in the city. I spent a couple of days developing a few story ideas and then dug in, barely getting two of the three stories finished by the end of the internship. In my last few weeks I practiced a new writing technique, learned a few things I need to do to make my stories really pop and tried my hand at some more feature stories and video.

I finished a data mining story with just two days left to my internship, and it was picked up by the Scripps Howard News Service and just about every gossip website because I used the word “Hollywood” in my lede. A few days after I posted my story, the Washington Post released another installment in their series “Top Secret America” about data mining on the local level that gives a lot more information than my story did. I urge you to read the entire series.

My last story was a straight-up feature about a busker. Mark Francis Nickens was one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. He has been playing on the streets of the District since the mid-1980s, but is quick to point out that he’s never been homeless. Mark did a lot to try to dispel some of the stereotypes of street musicians for me. He explained that while playing at various Metro stations around the city he is often treated as if he’s a homeless beggar, instead of someone who is working to entertain.

I just worry that after he read my story about him he’ll decide to burn an effigy of me, just like he says he did with an asian videographer who portrayed Mark in a way he didn’t appreciate. I guess I’ll find out if I see Mark post something on Facebook about having a cookout with a brunette Barbie!

One of the highlights of the internship: A whirlwind tour of New England in 48 hours.

Even though I was pretty homesick toward the end of my internship, I wouldn’t trade a single experience I had in the District. I got to meet so many interesting people and push myself farther than I thought I could go. Plus, I made some new friends and had a few adventures.

Change of pace

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And now for something completely different.

Typically on this blog, I talk about things I do and see, or things I want to do and see, not what I think or how I feel. When it comes to talking about how I feel or what I think about something or someone, or moments that shaped a part of my character, I freeze up.

I froze up earlier this evening when I was talking to one of my roommates about how this internship has changed my perspective on some things. She has decided to relocate to DC from the western U.S., and we were discussing what it’s like to be in a city where you know no one.

When I got to the part where I tried to vocalize how in the last couple of months I have changed from someone who valued having an exciting career above all else to someone who valued family and friends above all else, I mumbled out, “But, I don’t know.” I couldn’t articulate why I no longer want to relocate to DC.

After I filed my first open records request a few years ago, I thought I wanted to be a big-shot investigative reporter in the big city. I loved the thrill of uncovering something and I wanted to be able to expose some terrible scandal and be the cause of some kind of widespread change that improves everyone’s lives.

But after a couple of months in DC, observing people who have spurred change with their big-city reporting, I’ve realized that I would rather take a job with a small-town weekly if it means being able to have people I care about close to me and I wouldn’t have to miss things like birthday parties and anniversaries because I’m hundreds of miles away.

Besides. It’s about the journalism. Period. Why should it matter where I’m working as long as I’m seeking truth and reporting it?

Being away from everything and everyone I’ve ever known has showed me what’s important to me, and what I don’t want to give up. As difficult as it has been to stop being homesick long enough to work and then find ways to pass the time on weekends without reminding myself on Fridays that I would be hanging out with Bert and Ella (my best friend and her daughter) or that on Sunday afternoons I would be shopping with Mom and then trying to start a conversation with Dad as he’s watching football or baseball or NASCAR, I don’t regret a thing. I’m glad I’ve had the chance to be in this internship program and spend three months in an incredible city. I’ve made memories and friends I’ll keep with me for the rest of my life. But I miss being able to see the stars.

Maine!

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Portland Head Light, most photographed lighthouse in Maine.

As lame as it sounds, I’ve always wanted to go to Maine. It’s not a metropolitan place, its more of a wilderness and that’s just the kind of thing that suits me. I’m happy with a little ocean, a little rocky beach, a few lighthouses and the chance to spot a moose – as long as I’m safely in a car or somewhere the moose can’t get me. Sunday morning around 8 a.m., I finally got to see Maine.

The only bad part of the trip is that we only had time to venture in to see one lighthouse, grab a lobster roll and start bookin’ it back to DC. We were in a race to get back before the Metro stopped running.

After getting some tips from the best welcome center worker ever, we plotted a trip to go up to see the most photographed lighthouse and then stop to walk along some cliffs and see another lighthouse on our way back out of the state. We were all so amazed — and frozen — at the first lighthouse that we spent too much time there and didn’t leave ourselves enough time to stop again on our way back to the District.


We did stop for lunch at Becky’s Diner, featured in publications from “Roadfood” to “Esquire.” My travelmates enjoyed the lobster and crab. I enjoyed my burger.

Becky’s Diner

In our original map, we were going to swing back through Vermont on our way back. But like we had to sacrifice cliff-walking, we also had to sacrifice adding the last New England state to my count. We just didn’t have an extra hour to spend seeing another state. But, this trip, like my Gypsy Trip over the summer, gave me a taste of some new areas I want to go back to. Sometime in 2011, I’m heading back up the East Coast. Next time, I’ll have more than two days to cover 700-plus miles up the coast. And I will get to see the Liberty Bell in Philly.

My travelmates:

Raymundo
Adam


Uncharted territory

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Providence, R.I. Capitol. It took up half the state.

All the fist pumping really kind of messed things up for us going into Jersey. I kind of started ignoring Sh’niqua (the navigation system in my Android) and ended up missing the exit for the Jersey Turnpike. But, after a quick detour through Camden, we were back on our way.

Fun fact about Jersey Danielle dug up on Wikipedia: It’s the doughnut capital of the world. When someone says “America runs on Dunkin’,” what they actually mean is “Jersey runs on Dunkin’.” Of course we stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts for an afternoon snack and quizzed an employee. She had no idea if Jersey was the doughnut capital of the world and seemed to think we were crazy for asking.
The second leg of our journey brought me to places I haven’t been before. New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts were all new experiences for me. I tried not to let Jersey Shore influence my opinion of the state, but still, I think I’ll be OK if I don’t ever see it again.
Connecticut was nice when we passed through, but it was getting dark. We didn’t get to see much until we came back through Sunday afternoon. Hartford was a beautiful city.
It was dark by the time we got to Rhode Island, but the smell alone was enough to forgive the itty bitty place for not being big enough to really be called a state. The entire state – all two square miles of it – smelled of pine. It was a great, fresh scent. The only thing we really saw was the capitol in Providence. As capitols go, it was pretty impressive.
Our original plan was to stop over in Boston for dinner and take a little time to explore the city. But that plan didn’t allow for us not arriving to the home of the Sox until 11 p.m. We couldn’t find parking for less than $15 – one garage was charging $27 for the night – so we illegally parked in a handicapped spot next to the capitol, took a few pictures and headed to Salem, Mass.
Salem is about an hour from Boston and an hour from Manchester, N.H., where we had reservations to stay the night. The drive to Salem wasn’t bad, and the town was charming, even though we were all waiting for the Sanderson sisters to fly down the street at any moment. The drive between Salem and Manchester was a little more interesting. We’d been in the car for about 15 hours at this point, and I was tired. We couldn’t get to that hotel fast enough.