n the 15th of this month I arrived in Baraboo, Wisconsin. The ride was only about 15 miles, but it was much harder for me than I had anticipated, because the highway that comes up from south of the town runs over a long, steady hill at points, and that area in general isn't very flat. In fact the entire town of Baraboo is like a city set on the waves, one moment low and another above your furthest reach. And being not the most experienced or well conditioned cyclist, I had difficulty getting around. In fact I had decided the day before to stop calling myself a cyclist, as I had really not earned that title in any way, I merely owned the gear. Nevertheless I arrived in Baraboo quite early, which worked out wonderfully because the coffee shop there closes at two o'clock on Sunday, which is the day I rode in.
Rob & Zoe
I ordered a latté, which was delicious, and some sort of scone, the flavour of which I can't remember. What I do remember is that the shop had a much more homelike feeling than what I'm used to with Starbucks, and the food and drink I got there was also better. Which I expected. I also remember that within an hour of being there I had met a man named Rob who offered me a place to stay for the night, and a family of three who also turned out to be very nice and conversational, and asked me if I had a place to stay.
After the coffee shop closed I went off exploring and found myself at Devil's Lake, which was beautiful. Then I headed to Culver's for supper, which was a wonderful experience in all honesty, and rode back to Rob's house, having been given the address by him earlier.
Rob and I ate together that evening, and talked, then we each retired. That whole day, and much of the previous few, I had been thinking about getting on a train. You can ride the rails all the way from Chicago to Seattle if you like, but at the moment I was only thinking of getting into Minneapolis. So, making up my mind to call Amtrak in the morning, I laid down to sleep.
The morning came, and I made the call. To no avail. I wasn't able to figure out how I could get on a train that would take me into the Twin Cities, and allow me to bring my bicycle along for the ride. So I rode about 15 miles to the Wisconsin Dells train station, and waited. The train came about noon, and I learnt from the conductor that they did not load bicycles on at that station. However, if I headed over to Columbus, I could pay for a box to put my bike in, which they could load in the luggage car there, and that would take me, and Larry, right to St Paul. So I thanked the kind gentleman, and headed out.
Columbus is about 45 miles east and a little south of the Dells, so I did have a bit of a ride to make, and I had been told the train would be in about four, so I prayed to make good time. Which I did. It was actually quite a nice ride, primarily along US Highway 16, and aside from almost wiping out terribly when crossing Interstate 39, it was rather a peaceful and enjoyable journey. And I arrived at the station in Columbus with time to spare. Which was very fortunate, because I had to take my bike apart and put it inside a big cardboard box, which proved difficult — due mainly to the fact that my left pedal was seemingly installed with the intention of making sure it never came off the crank again. But I managed to adequately pack it up, purchased all the necessary papers, and settle down into my street shoes in time to sit and wait for the train to come in.
Once I had actually boarded the train and found a seat, I became incredibly relaxed and relieved, especially once the café had opened and I was able to purchase my highly over-priced turkey sandwich, with a Snickers bar on the side of course. After that I went back to my bag, carefully took out the beer I had smuggled aboard, and casually walked over to the lounge car to enjoy my meal.
The train arrived in St Paul about ten o'clock or so, and I exited and went to pick up and reassemble my bike before my sister-in-law's brother Brandon arrived to bring me to his house for the night. Very graciously, as he had to get up early for work the next morning.
Me & Willliam
Now, being me, and being in certain ways very much like my older brother Caleb, I spend a decent amount of time looking at cars and things of that nature on Craigslist. And several days previous to getting into St Paul, I had found an ad for a 1999 Jeep Cherokee Sport, an XJ. From the ad it seemed in good condition overall, though it had more miles on it than I like when buying what is for me, a new vehicle. Yet it was listed for $1,900, which meant I could most likely get it for a couple hundred less than that. So I contacted the guy who listed it. This guy lived just north of Minneapolis. So, the day after getting into St Paul, Brandon's wife Casey brought me out and dropt me off to look at the XJ, since she had to go in that direction to pick up her kids from school. I talked with the owner a bit, a real nice guy named Ryan, and took the Jeep for a test drive. To the bank.
All packed up and ready for the drive home.
That day, I became a Jeep owner. (Which is something I've wanted to be for a while, but it's hard to find an XJ in decent shape for under about three or four thousand dollars. I got mine for $1,500.) And I managed to drive about four hundred miles home the very next day without any warning lights coming on or gauges going crazy, which is a really good sign. The Jeep also came with a set of "off road" tires, and a full size spare for the stock wheels, in addition to the little donut spare. The only issues we've found with it (aside from the cracked windshield which I had replaced) are that it has a couple of oils leaks, which is normal for a vehicle this old, and it was making an odd rattling, knocking sort of noise that we just couldn't seem to identify. Until yesterday.
I got on Caleb's creeper and rolled around underneath the Jeep to try and find the source of the noise, and became nearly 100% convinced it was originating from what my brother said was the bell housing, which is where the torque converter is housed, in between the transmission and the engine. Caleb and I did some googling, and found that others had experienced this same problem. For most it was resolved by removing the inspection plate on the bell housing, and either simply tightening the bolts on the flywheel, or totally replacing it, which would be a much bigger job. So I removed the inspection plate, and Caleb and I discovered that the bolts holding the flywheel on were in fact so loose that you could see the gap between the head of the bolt and the wheel. Only one was tight. This is potentially a huge problem, because if one of those bolts were to actually come out it could tear apart your transmission. But, they're all tight now, and the noise is gone! So my XJ is running like a champ (though it may need some belts tightened), and I didn't even have to bring it to a mechanic. Joy!
Also, it was fun having three guys all crawling around underneath the same Jeep, looking about with flashlights and casting ideas around on how to do this or that and get it all done as easily as possible. It was a very Wyncottish moment.
So now all we have to do is replace the gaskets where the oil leaks are, and do a few other minor things like tighten belts and have the A/C recharged, and Waylon* should be road trip ready. (Yes, I named him Waylon.) Now, those are the necessary fixes, however I'm also going to be painting the Jeep before I leave. I'm very picky about the look of my possessions, and this XJ has had a little body work done so not all the paint matches up. So I'm going to grind down any rust on the body, sand all the metal, and paint. It's going to be mainly white, with black for the trim, bumpers, grille, rack and the like, as well having black tires and rims. And hopefully, I can do a decent job, because I don't have money to spend on a professional paint job, which is expensive. For today though, I'm just giving him a nice clean, and installing a new stereo, because the stock one was replaced which a cheap head unit that I really don't like. I would prefer having the stock stereo in and not having to deal with wiring harnesses or anything, but such is life.
The windshield is replaced, the GPS and Weather Tech mats are in, the flywheel is tight, the interior is clean, all the window and wipers work, and Waylon is almost ready to roll. And Joel, is excited to begin the next stage of his journey. So wish him luck, and send him prayers.
With love,
— Joel
*now Chip the Cherokee