One small detail I omitted from yesterday's post was a funny thing that happened to us on the way to Branson.
We were driving on I-40 in Arkansas when we hit a major road construction site. They highway was being closed for a time and then reopened for a time, causing major backups. No worries, we carry our bathroom with us.
As we slooowly crept up to an exit, a deputy sheriff standing there motioned for us to take it. I stopped and had a nice brief chat with him and he gave me directions. I thanked him and moved off down the exit.
At the end of the exit was a crossroads intersection. Left, right or straight back onto the highway. Standing in the middle of the intersection was one of Arkansas' finest, a state trooper. He was directing traffic.
The deputy had told me to turn left at the intersection, but the trooper motioned for us to go straight across the intersection. Who am I to argue? I went straight across the intersection like the trooper had directed me.
As I drove past him he started screaming "Stop! Stop!" So I stopped. Then he started screaming "Back up, BACK UP!!!" I opened my window and yelled back to him (standing at the rear of the Journey) that I could not back up. He just kept screaming for me to back up and started pounding on the side of the Journey.
I had Marti jump out of the Journey and run back to the Element tow car to hold the wheel straight so I could back up. As Marti came around the trooper she told him she was going to hold the steering wheel so I could back up. He yelled at her to get back in the Journey. Marti said in no uncertain terms that she had to hold the wheel or the car front wheels would lock up. As she went for the car door, the trooper yelled at her that he would do it. Marti stopped, he whipped open the door and stuck one foot in and held the wheel while is other foot was on the ground. He screamed again for me to back up, so I slowly backed up through the intersection with the trooper holding the wheel and hopping on his one foot. When I got far enough back that I could turn left, he, slammed the door and yelled at Marti to get back in the Journey and yelled "Why can't you follow everyone else?"
What ever. Marti got back inside, I turned right and drove away. I know he may have thought he was indicating for me to turn left, but instead of correctly using full arm motions, he was just using his hands and wrists. So it was easy for me to mistake whatever way he was trying to point for the wrong one.
We've all read of police officers using excessive force and dragging little old ladies out of their cars at traffic stops. I've often wondered where officers like that could come from. Now I know that there is at least one in the Arkansas State Police.
We drove through the various turns, each one manned by a sheriff's deputy who pleasantly waved us though the turns until we arrived back on the highway. Along the way, we passed the headquarters of the Arkansas State Police. I briefly thought that maybe we should stop and file a complaint, but my PDD was kicking in so we kept on going. Hopefully no little old lady gets stopped by that trooper.
Today we had a scrubbing bubbles day. The Escapees campground allows you to wash your motorhome, so I started a top down, full spa treatment for the Journey. Marti took care of the inside and spruced everything up, and steam cleaned the carpets, too. Now the Journey gleams inside and out. We like it that way.
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