Et tu, Saab?, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota

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6/30/99 -- I was in no mood to write about what was going on yesterday, so I'll summarize now. I was supposed to leave Chicago yesterday, the 29th, in the morning. I got out of Kim and Mate's house good an early at 9:00am, got my car out of the garage, and drove 1 block to this bagel shop where I got breakfast. When I was ready to go, I discovered that my car would not start. Immediately I called AAA and told them I needed a jump start, presuming my that battery had died.

WARNING TO THE READER: what follows, until the first divider line, is an in-depth, pictureless description of ulcer-producing car troubles. If you are interested, read on. If not, basically, I had car troubles, multiple ones which coincided by poor luck, which stressed me out very much and lost me an entire day. Now you can skip to the next section.

So AAA arrived and jump started my car. At this point my woes started. I had asked some random bagel shop goer to turn the key in my car while I waited for AAA to arrive, so I could have my head under the hood while the key turned. I did this because my horn wasn't dead, so clearly there was some power in the battery. It did sound like the starter was trying but failing to turn, but at that point AAA arrived and the jump start worked. Yay.

Of course, smoke started pouring out of the engine compartment and the tailpipe. What I didn't know at the time was that the dude who I got to turn the key in my car, who I clearly told twice not to touch the gas pedal, had hit the gas, and flooded my fuel-injected engine. While trying to trace the source of the smoke, I discovered that the head pipe of my exhaust system was cracked. I knew that I'd hit the tailpipe against a concrete bump while backing into a parking spot, and that I'd bent it so that it rattled annoyingly against the underside of the car, but hadn't known that I'd cracked anything.

At that point it was 11:30. I called my man Jake and told him what was up. He looked up some Saab help in the Chicago region and hooked me up with Alfred Jackson of Swedish Auto Service. Who, BTW, I'd recommend to any Saab, Volvo, or BMW owner in the Chicago region. Then I called AAA again and told them I needed a tow.

So, I got to Swedish Auto Service (or SAS for short), it was 1:00pm. When they jump started the car, the smoking problem was gone, apparently it was just the engine flooding that had caused that. So I had them replace the battery, replace the head pipe, and bend the tailpipe around so it didn't rattle. Great, and all that only cost me $240. I was feeling better, and although it was 4:00pm, I decided to get some traveling done.

I spent from 4 - 6 in Chicago rush hour traffic, since SAS was in the south of Chicago and I was headed north on I-94, which heads straight through Chicago. Then I broke pell mell for Wisconsin. Then my car stalled at I approached the first toll booth on the tollway.

Uh, oh. Then it did it again at the next toll booth. And I noticed that the car wouldn't respond to throttle properly in low gears... when pushing the gas and taking out the clutch, instead of accelerating, the car would slow down (a result of engine braking, showing that gas wasn't reaching the engine), and only accelerate after a second or two. Also, I'd gone through nearly an entire tank of gas in 200 miles. Bad. I pulled over (stalling, but then succeeding in getting the engine running), and checked under the hood. There was a hissing, sucking sound, leading me to believe that there was a vacuum leak in the engine, but I could not localize it.

I called Jake, left a message, and continued to drive. It was 9:00pm. Eventually I figured out, while waiting for Jake to call me back, that needed to turn around and head back to SAS. At this point I was soiling my pants and developing a bleeding ulcer. The car stalled every time I let it come to idle. I turned around and decided that since it was too late to get service on my car, I'd drive to the rest stop closest to Chicago, spend the night, and drive into SAS early in the morning.

When I got to the rest stop, Jake called me back, and, based on what I told him, confirmed that I had a vacuum leak. He tried to help me locate it, but at the rest stop that I was to spend the night, I was unable to find a loose hose. So I filled the gas tank with crappy gas, since I reckoned it would just get pissed away, and went to bed.

In the morning, the car would not start. It took me 10 minutes of cranking the engine and fluttering the gas pedal to get the engine warm enough to sustain 1st gear. During those 10 minutes I aged about a year. Finally I got going and headed into Chicago. And here's the kicker -- somewhere along the way, the problem stopped. But then the turbo gauge stopped working too. And then I noticed that the Turbo wasn't working well at all.

So I got to SAS, worrying that since the first problem had mysteriously disappeared that he would be unable to diagnose it. Hah. Alfred opened the hood and found a hose popped off immediately. Great, I'm on my way, and it's only 10am! The turbo gauge was working again, the engine wasn't dying, woo-hoo!

10 minutes from SAS, the battery warning telltale light comes on. I turn around and head back to SAS. Ah, Alfred says, a distributor problem. Your distributor ground wire's snapped off and your battery won't charge. Fixed.

I'm on my way again, and this time there's no reason to turn back. But I'm still unhappy -- the turbo's being all anemic. Ah, Jake said, you put crappy gas in your tank! That's the APC system, the Automatic Pressure Control system, limiting the boost you can get from your turbo, to prevent pinging. And, in fact, when I ran the tank dry and put 93 octane in, the performance was back!

Whew, what a saga! I'm not sure I can sufficiently describe the miserable, quiet, stressing out I was doing, at the notion of having my trip slain by car troubles. But we're all set now.

When I got to Madison, I hopped off the interstate, and got on a state route. At this point the drive got really nice. My destination was Taliesen, Frank Lloyd Wright's famous residence/milk farm/architect academy, located in Spring Green, Wisconsin. The drive was really nice, I was driving at high speeds, like 75 mph (BTW, the interstate speed limit in Wisconsin is 70), on these scenic country roads, through beautiful, Heather and other wildflower covered hillsides, and for the first time in my trip I wished I was on a bicycle instead of in a car (it wasn't the first time I thought that I'd rather be on a motorcycle).

I drove past many, many farms, like this one, and occasionally a really nice-looking house with spires and many wings. Sorry I didn't get any pix of those. I also would arrive in a little town of between 1500 and 4000 people every 45 - 60 miles or so, which I often wished I could stop in, but I wanted to get to Taliesen. Here's a typical Wisconsin town's main street:

Well, I got to Taliesen at around 4:30, which I reckoned was close to closing time, but if I couldn't tour it extensively, at least I could get the big picture.

Well, apparently you're not allowed on the property on which the house is located unless your on one of their tours, the last one of which had departed at 4:00pm. Arrgh! No Taliesen for me. The guy at the Frank Lloyd Wright Visitor Center told me that although I couldn't go onto the property, there was a mile long footpath on the opposite side of highway 23 which would give me a view of the house. Well, I'd come all that way, so why not? Here's what I saw:

What a crappy picture, you say? Yeah, that's about the view of it I got. Bummer, huh? Well, no matter. I still had a lovely time driving through Wisconsin. I continued to take the backroads through most of the rest of Wisconsin, reuniting with I-90 for a 60-mile stretch to the Wisconsin-Minnesota border, where I bailed from the Interstate again to get a nice approach to the Mississippi River. It was dusk at that point, and I wish I'd caught it at sunset, but hey, that's the way it goes. Here:

10 minutes after I crossed the Mississippi, the heavens opened up and it began to pour hardcore. I got back on I-90 and continued West through Minnesota, finally finishing for the night at a rest stop outside of Albert Lee, MN.

Oh, one last thing about Wisconsin. I passed quite a few bars while headed through these little towns I was mentioning. Well, let's have a look at one: Hmm, do you notice something funny about that bar? Let's have a closer look:

Woah! They've got Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap! What the hell is up with these, what do you call 'em, Wisconsinites? Ah, well, I guess it could be worse -- in Ely, Minnesota, they had Schmitt's on tap. For a buck a glass. Mmmm.

I pretty much sped at 90 mph the entire way from Albert Lee to Sioux Falls, South Dakota -- the legal speed limit is 75mph. Yes!!!

When I got to Sioux Falls I had lunch, and while gassing up the car, ran into these two people, who were driving a Chevy station wagon spray painted with various trippy designs. Their names were Tizrah and Sunflower. They were on their way from Seattle to Pennsylvania to the Rainbow Gathering. Of course, I spotted them immediately... when I pulled into the spot next to them at the gas station, I said "nice ride," and Tirzah said "Do you smoke?" and I answered "uh... not tobacco..." and so it was settled. I love how that happens. Pictured there to the left is me, scratching Tirzah's dog Persia's head, Tirzah, and Sunflower with her dog Gus, whom she reefered -- uh, heh, excuse me, referred -- to as "Gustapher Robinson."

I hung around with Tirzah and Sunflower for a little while, and then we went out separate ways -- they towards Pennsylvania, and myself towards the falls after which Sioux Falls is named.

The falls were really nice. Apparently when the area was first settled (well, pilfered from the Laquotas in the Louisiana Purchase, I suppose, but let's not get into that), there was a Fort, and then a town, and in the late 1800s (I might be getting the years wrong here, I shoulda taken notes) a hydro-electric plant was built on the river which the falls feed, Big Sioux River. But during the industrialization, the plant was "upgraded" to a coal-burner to take care of increased power needs. Forests were chopped down, railroads were built (you can see the tracks running right over the falls in the picture), quarries were created for quartz mining, mills were built, and basically the whole thing was ransacked. But about 10 years ago the Mayor of Sioux Falls got on the ball and organized a multi-million dollar reclamation project, and things are looking up for the falls. The surrounding grounds have been bought up by the state from the corporations which owned them to become Falls State Park, and they're working on rerouting the railroad. A triumph for preservation.

After I left Sioux Falls, I got back on the interstate and moved along, pausing to take in the majesty of the Missouri River. My photos do not do it justice. Actually, I am realizing that by virtue of the fact that there is a frame around them, my photos may highlight certain objects and scenes very well, but they are poor at capturing any of the vastness of some scenes I've encountered.

South Dakota is much nicer than I expected it to be. I sort of expected something along the lines of Nebraska, which I crossed on interstate 80 last time I headed West. That drive was like driving on a conveyor belt headed in the opposite direction, constantly driving past the same farm for 8 hours. But no, Eastern South Dakota is full of rolling hills and beautiful terrain, lovely flowers and a rich earthy smell. Western South Dakota has the Badlands and the Black Hills, which I will reach tomorrow.

Today has been a rockin' great day, actually, with high spirits and the first clear skies I've had since I got to Chicago. As I pulled out of the rest stop in the morning, I put Led Zeppelin II in the CD player, and as I hit the road, "Ramble On" came on and just set the tone of the day. Every other day has been overcast, but as I sped westward, I got out from under the cover and saw blue. There were still clouds all over the place, massive fluffy ones, low hanging ones, the kind you can't believe aren't massive islands of cotton drifting a scant couple of hundred feet overhead. This made for a rather nice sunset.

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