Archbishop Gregory Holley

I Am Angry

Everybody in our world knows that I am no stranger to danger.  From the tip of Africa to England, from Mexico to Guatemala and beyond.  Nation after nation, experience after experience. Yet the past few days have showed me a weakness in myself that I am getting older and not as capable to deal with the slovenness of the American worker as I use to be.  The coach you have provided me blew an engine some weeks back.  All of my friends in the trucking industry can weigh in on this but would you think that 3 weeks is a little long for a long block to go into a vehicle?

Spartan Chassis uses Cummins Engines in their RV applications. When a breakdown occurs under warranty it is towed by their Road Service people to a qualified agent. My poor RV went to Dallas Freightliner who were men enough to say that the job was too big for them. It was then towed again, ( and you know what that means $$$$) to a well known, Dallas branch of a $400 million dollar (in annual business) service corporation that shall remain nameless for right now. 

I do not have time to tell you all that occurred but after three weeks of kindness ( or was it stalling?) I was called to pick up the coach and Sean and I observed the shop and its operation.  More on that at another date.

Believe me it is time for someone to take on the Customer Service side of the American Trucker.  Maybe when I cool down I will not take on the added stress of this but some correction needs to be taken.  Back to the story at hand.

I was called by the great people at Spartan Chassis, Greg Rinehart, to tell me the coach was ready to be picked up.  I told them the tight schedule I was on and the loss of time Monday and Tuesday when they, for lack of checking two wires, sent the coach by tow ($$$$) to Dallas Inland  who must be laughing behind their backs, fixed the two wires and sent the coach back to them to finish. 

I arrrived and will detail the reception later in a chapter on Customer Service in the RV Industry.  The coach was brought out, delivered to me. The driver, eager to get out of the vehicle, said, "God bless you, Brother."  An under handed jab from a brother?

He left the plastic on the seats they use to keep from getting grease on the seats, paper on the floor and when I asked him to restart the motor so I could see if the batteries were up, he smirked, " how many times do you want me to crank it?"  He was nervous.  He had reason to be.  He was fixing to lie to his employer.  It was nerve wracking and I did not know why. He just wanted me off the parking lot!

So with a struggle I got some answers about heat ranges from a mechanic named George and after treating me like a school boy I went to hook up the vehicle. 

The Queen (Gayla) saw it first.  The guy had wrecked the coach!  He literally tore their fence down getting it out but told his boss he did not realize it. Okay?  I asked for their Garage liability so I could get to my Insurance Agent but they could not find one.  Not surprising that company of that size is probably self insured because the manager told me to get estimates and he would write a check.  Is this the way it's done?  Not in the corporate world I live in.

So the bill came to around $20,000.  The coach was left dirty and unwashed. Even the Infinity dealer back in Houston washes the car on a 75$ service.  Amazing that for all their largeness in the industry they never offered even a grease job for all the pain they put this old boy through. 

Now I know some of you big ole corporate boys are laughing at me and I am going to get a lot of ribbing in Vegas and California next week as I flutter about looking righteous.  Just remember the good Book.  "Be angry and sin not."  Well, I don't think I have sinned in this deal.  Yet....  !!!

Back to the Bio-Diesel Future

Gayla and I have to make a trip to the Border this week and the tank on the Essex was running a bit low.  It has a 150 gallon tank on it and showed to be between half and a quarter of a tank.  I called my friend Eric to see if I could be blessed with the sweet smell of tortilla fuel!  To my thankful heart he said to come on over!

The first thing I saw was a new pre-heater for the oil.  At the refining area Eric gets all kinds of used frying oil.  Coconut, Canola, vegetable, corn, olive, sesame oil can be refined to bio-diesel and he is learning much about the do's and don'ts!  The pre-heater helps to pre-strain it before it goes through a very fine strainer as it moves into the refining process.  I am so excited.  We are gearing up to gather additional resources to add to the growing need! For those of you in the Houston area who have cooking oil of any sort please bring it to us or email me and I will arrange a pickup from your facility.  We would love to have a few fast food vendors to work with!

Today we are pulling it out of two 55 gallon drums.  A hand crank pump is connected and the turning began.  It is amazing how quick it loaded in into the tanks.  When pumping from Truck stop fuel tanks the volume that comes is full of foam and running so fast it churns.  This way is a constant, smooth flow and the tank took 95 gallons!  I was a little shy but Eric assured me it was okay but I could see a little tear coming out of his generous eye!  This is a laboratory experiment for their company and he handles it personally on the side while being responsible for the huge tortilla chip factory cranking out hundreds of pounds of chips hourly starting from raw corn to the grinding stone to the extruder to the tortilla to the cutting four way to the frying to drying to the packaged finish!  Thanks, my friend!

Eugene Ybarra, one of the founding elders of New Life and mentor is Eric's father.  He took his turn cranking on the pump. He said, " I want to put diesel in Bro. Holley's bus."  He remembers the 1954 4104 GMC Greyhound bus I had when we came to town 12 years ago. My how times change!

11 years ago Winfred and Ann Oliver appeared at our new church and stayed with us helping to build the vision.  They have retired now and live between here and Limestone Lake.  A wonderful minister and elder to Gayla and me their encouragement is always sustaining to us.  He had a fish fry at Limestone Lake and the Ybarra's attended.  When it was over they  gathered up the couple of gallons of oil and the Ybarra's brought it home and Eric poured it in.  Eric said he could smell the fish as it refined! I don't know if I got any of it but if you smell a fish fry going down the road, that's me and bio-diesel.

Bio Diesel

   The Essex Coach by Newmar is pushed down the road by 500 horses of Cummins excellence transferred to the highway through an Allison 6 speed transmission. After over 31 years of pulling, dragging, pushing and herding buses and travel trailers down the road this is the best and most efficient rig we have owned.  45' feet of living space enables us to be at home on the road and in the storms be a command center or as we like to call it a 'virtual traffic light' referring to the GPS positioning we afford to those bringing relief. All this at about 6.7 to 8.2 miles to the gallon!

Enter Bio-diesel.  With fuel costs around $3 per gallon across the nation it is always on our mind  the opportunities of alternative fuel.  The El Matador factory produces chips fried in oil daily. This oil is now being turned into valuable diesel fuel which runs the delivery trucks of the factory.  The project is  a little over 4 months old and is revolutionizing the company!

These are the pictures of a well thought out conversion from frying oil to diesel fuel. The impurities that come off of it produce glycerin of which soap is made.  Pastor Gayla can't wait to get her hands on some!

A light is placed behind the fuel to show how clean it is.  It is hard to believe that the process, so simple, brings about the powerful fuel at a third of the cost! The only thing left to do was to fill the Coach up and run it on the open road!

So, from frying pan to the Coach fuel tank it went!  A road trip from Houston to Baton Rouge to Atlanta to Cleveland, Tennessee was embarked upon. Power was up to par, mileage according to the trip computer was up about 6 % !  This for me made me wish for more!  I guess adding a fuel tank to the Coach is next!  The coach has about an 800 mile range but with a further 120 gallons that could be doubled which would allow me to turn a Vera Cruz, Mexico trip without fueling.  A Houston - Chicago - Houston as well as any 1600 mile turn.  What a dream!  And it is obtainable!

So for now it's back to the Flying J Truck Stop.  Back to $2.97 per gallon fuel costs. Fueling for the return trip to Houston was a stark reminder that America could do so much more to save our fuel reserves.  Bio-Diesel is a smart, applicable way to extend our resources. 

                             So today I salute Eric Ybarra for his continued friendship and valuable help.  His commitment to excellence in his background promise that all the fuel created at his facility will be 100%!  Thanks for a great ride and for completing dreams of bio-diesel!

Honeymoon Boondockers 4

Gayla is still the striking beauty that she was on that first, freezing Sunday morning.  And like the trooper she is she never complained and dressed for her first morning as the Evangelist's wife! In those days she didn't sing much and played an accordion a little so her support was more than the blogger had had as a single traveller. Church was somehow a smashing success and the crowd vowed to bring back a greater crowd that night!

Out to lunch with the Pastor and wife with their two grown single sons who were into a picking mood focused on the two honeymooners.  We stayed at their house the after and night and I was glad not to see the policeman whose car was still frozen from my avalanche ( see honeymoon boondocker 1-3). We slept hard in the afternoon and arrived at church groggy and slept over ( kinda like hung over).

The next morning we went for propane to replace the frozen butane and get our life started.  But everything was frozen, yes everything.  Pipes, water storage tanks and sewage system.  Over 100 gallons of liquid frozen in every available space. So, with hat in hand, and pride reduced to zero I called the Pastor. 

After some discussion it was stated the neighboring Pastor, James Lashley, had a bus barn that we could bring the Travel Trailer over to and bring it in out of the weather.  Now this is 31 years ago and many things we have today were not available but when we saw this big, closed in barn and we rolled in through the doors we felt we were in heaven.  Two men of the neighboring church were there to greet us and made us to feel welcome.

In due time the heaters they had were placed around the Travel Trailer. With the furnace working inside and the heat on the aluminum trailer began to work.  This is where I learned a valuable RV lesson.  Never leave the valve to the Black water side of the sewage open until you are ready to dump!

An RV has two tanks for waste water.  One is the Grey water which is shower and sink water.   The Black water tank is the commode water.  The secret is to leave the Grey water open and the Black water shut.  But the blogger was on his maiden voyage and no one had shared this with him.

So as coffee was being consumed and small talk made it happened.  The Travel Trailer thawed!  In one big gush the sewage from both tanks rushed onto the floor of the Bus Barn in an icy creeping mess.  The blogger is sure Gayla was embarrassed beyond belief but said nothing.  Speechless, it seemed as time droned on and nobody said a word.

The it happened.  Goodbyes were said and foolishly the blogger drove out and left the mess for the kind men to clean up.  31 years later it is still the topic of conversation around those parts when we are mentioned and at our expense the tales are told.

But with a warm home we slipped back beside the Creve Couer church and got ready for church on that Monday night....The blogger was married and working!

Honeymoon Boondockers 3

Remember, we had been married a day and were backed up next door to the church we would begin a 7 day a week revival service routine the next morning, which was Sunday!  It was around 40 degrees when we went in for the night and the little heater was warming the travel trailer just fine.  The water was hooked up and sewer hose installed.  Snuggled into bed for our first night of a RV lifestyle little did we know that 31 years later and in a whole lot nicer 44 foot Newmar Essex Coach we would still be travelling.

The church sat on a hill.  The Silver Streak travel trailer perched beside make a mighty prosperous sight!  Down the hill, about 100 yards, was a neighbor who had his police car parked under his open air garage.  We were safe!  We were warm! What could go wrong with a setup like this.

Sleep came and in what seem to be minutes, although it was about 4 am we awoke freezing!  A peek out the window showed everything covered with snow and ice.  But why no heat?  The dutiful husband laid down on the floor and tried to relight the furnace to no avail.  Out the door, bundled up and beat on the Butane tanks.

Did I say Butane? Yes, a southern boy had comitted the unpardonable!  Travelling to the north in snow and ice not knowing that Butane would freeze where Propane would not. Shoot, I did not know the difference anyway!!

Going back inside I did not know this was the problem.  It just would not work.  So, we did the next best thing... We put on about 3 or 4 sets of clothing each and went back to bed. The next morning the Pastor beat on the door about 7 am and were we glad to see him!

I explained my situation.  He explained Butane and Propane.  I did not undersand but could not buy any on Sunday anyway so nodded my head dutifully. Then the reason of his kock was unveiled.

He pointed down the hill.  A solid stream of ice glacier hand gone down the hill and went all around the policeman's tires locking him in.  Where had it come from?  You guessed it!  The hose had broken in the ice storm and water was still running down the hill and freezing around the car and house in an unbelievable pagentry!

Two days married.  I get us a job.  I blow the Butane deal. I gotta preach in 2 hours. The policeman is belly aching.  Gayla is cold. The Pastor is laughing. I am in too deep....

Honeymoon Boondockers

Attention was turned from the Travel Trailer to the business at hand.  Tuxedos, rehearsals, friends coming in and pictures, pictures, pictures.  No one asked where we would spend our honeymoon and no assistance given. Without one thought of a hotel or trip ( I had a rolling hotel, I thought..) the wedding was on and with hundreds looking on I married the queen and was mesmerized but they kept taking pictures.  Its funny now but I have never seen the like of relatives taking pictures.  My face hurt yet the queen never whimpered. All I want to do was get out of there and all that with no place to go.

Then it happened.  A preacher came up and asked where I was preaching on Sunday morning. It's Friday night and he wants to book me to start a revival from Sunday to Sunday preaching every night of the week.  Said it would be a great honeymoon.  My pocketbook spoke to me and in a confused state of mind I accepted. Yes, I did...

The target city was Creve Couer, Illinois which was about 40 miles from Bloomington where we got married.  So off we headed to Peoria close by and found a hotel to spend our first night.  I don't think either one of us thought a thing about going to work the day or so as it was just a part of who we were raised to be.  Hard working folks. 

The next day we moved the rig over to the side of the church and again my backing skills were challenged.  The Pastor and his family was there to meet us with young sons grinning at me and making faces. Battling to back up the hill and get close to the building was the challenge and once again I faked it on in and got out to set up.

Laying down on the cold ground to screw the jacks up from the ground to meet the trailer I wondered just how cold it would get not knowing the weather was already turning colder.  Water hooked up, sewer hose laid out the Evangelist was ready.  In  we went to survey our new home and it looked like a palace to us after coming out of the no tell motel the night before.  How far we have come...

Gonna Get Married...

Thirty one years later the blogger is sitting in Phoenix, Arizona on a crisp morning  in a Newmar Coach with satellite up and streaming data flowing all around.  Its a long ways from that cold, icy Illinois morning as the black Dodge and Siverstreak Travel trailer entered the roadway on its way to get married. The rig was 54 feet long and a beauty.  Two big mirrors hung on the doors and the constant watching of the towed triler, which by the way hangs on till this day, began.  This rig is 70 feet long and instead of the tail wagging the dog in the case of travel trailer and car it is the car that humbly tows behind and instead of mirrors there is a camera on the towed car (they call it a toad) to constantly watch out of habits formed in those early days.

Is the blogger better off? Certainly in material goods, gathered wisdom and the giftings of the heavenly Father.  But better off than that cold morning with thoughts of the Queen dancing in my head?  Old Illinois 51 was no match for the conqueror this morning and although there was little in the bank account, the pocket flush with the $78.16 offering from the night before and a hundred from dad stuck in the back of the wallet time seemed to creep.  These days better off could be considered by the grandchildren as they think PaPa has everything but nothing could be better than a young man in love and 'gonna get married.'

Don't know where everybody was and these days still don't know where everybody is all the time. But a wave of loneliness came across me as the frozen cornfields blurred by for endless miles. My mother named me Gregory meaning gregarious or more easily understood as one liking to be with the herd. Yet the calling of God upon my life had ushered me into a life of being alone in crowds until I began to understand the writer's emotion as he penned, "Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink." Seems like there are people all around but none to ride the highs and lows of the life of a nomad. But thoughts quickly turn to Gayla.

Entering the Township of Bloomington, Illinois the caravan wound its way toward the house of dreams.  Her father had built a large two story home in a rolling hill subdivision and the feelings were anxious about running over curbs and knocking down stop signs.  The worst anxiety was pulling up in front of the house for her approval of the new digs.  Still today the feelings of the blogger are that her approval is still the first thought process, "What's Galya gonna say?" And then the house appeared.

All came out to welcome the soon to be son in law, brother in law or groom whichever you wish to label him. But the crowd gathered and the oohs and aahs were spurted but my eyes were only for the sweet eyes of Gayla and her thoughts of her new home to be. She ignored the rig and came straight for me and somehow that made it all alright. And then the problem.

The boys told me where there dad wanted me to put the rig.  It would have to be backed down the hill into the driveway and off to the side of the house.  While all believed that  a man that could drag a travel trailer from Texas would have no problem backing it into a puzzle the blogger realized he had never backed the trailer before and now was not a good time to learn in front of an audience! But nevertheless after a few stabs it was parked and little is remembered about the rehearsal because we was gonna get married!

Next Wednesday:  The Honeymoon Boondockers

Boondocking 2

Now this was strange to a Texan. Driving in a snowstorm would never be a Houston expertise and in rare times when wintry precipitation came down the city stalled out and refused to drive.  Schools closed, workers laid home from work and a general party atmosphere ensued. Not so on 55 North headed out of Memphis. The traffic streaked past with apparently no thought of the snow.

The roaring fire of love that burned within the breast of the young blogger kept thoughts warm as he weaved his way toward Carbondale, Illinois. Waiting there was a congregation willing to listen to a Wednesday night sermon and help fill the gas tank which seem to always be empty on this journey. Pulling in next to the church the side mirrors showed the rear wheels of the Travel Trailer rolling over the curb and cutting through the mushy, winter grass leaving deep ruts of an inexperienced driver.  Rushing back to the Travel Trailer the blogger noticed it was quite cold inside but rushed through dressing, washing and brushing teeth in cold water on his way to a warm church.

After church some kind soul offered to help plug the trailer in.  A little heat turned on it was off to eat with the Pastor at the local Denny's , a few tall stories capped with loads of laughter.  When the night turned late a glance at the clock reminded the blogger he was off to get married the next morning early.  Returning to the little palace on wheels the expectation of a warm reception was soon met with the coolness of an Illinois December night.

Thoughts of Gayla chased the worries of the lack of knowledge of boondocking ( the art of parking free with little or no support) away and sleep came. Like camping in frozen tundra the morning came early with a longing to see the morning sun just for a chance to get warm.  But it will be alright when Gayla is with me.  Don't know how but was convinced it would be.

Checking chains and equalizer bars and hitch the effort was made to start back toward the freeway. The morning was clear and the road a bit icy, the wind blowing strong. The only companions on the road were semi trucks trundling along trying to get the freight to the cities for delivery that day. About 50 miles of two lane road lie ahead of the freeway and all was well.

That is until it came time to pass one of the semi trucks because it was deemed he was going much to slow.  Confidence built from over 400 miles of towing a trailer called for easing out into the southbound lane to overtake.  No vehicle in sight, accelerating smoothly, trailer pulling steadily, front nose of semi truck beginning to look as if this was going to happen. The pass was going to be made!

Then it happened.  Approaching the front of the semi truck the full wind that he had been blocking from the path of the overtaker blew in.  The accelerator was mashed and the rear wheels of the Dodge began to slip. The trailer began to sway. The fight was on.  And another truck was coming South.

Time to pray! Calling on the name of Jesus and promising to do better the foot came off of the gas and the trailer steadied as the coming truck bore down upon the over confident blogger. It seemed with only seconds to spare the car and trailer was shoved back into the proper lane and life and limb were spared.  And the incident became a buried fact of our RV lifestyle.

Shaking, the side of the road was sought. Standing on a cold, Illinois highway thanks to God were made as the mind once again turned toward Bloomington and the awaiting Bride. She was going to love her new home. That is if it ever arrived!

Boondocking in an RV

Travelling in a RV is an experience all on its own. Thirty one years ago marriage came to the blogger to a wonderful and impressionable young princess. The job at the time was as an itenerant evangelist or minister who conducted week long meetings in churches. Living solo on the road brought the realization that living in shotgun hotels and in the back Sunday School rooms of country churches while showering in a makeshift shower (which was supposed to bring you closer to God) was not an option with a new bride.  And there were times when children would be booted out of their bedrooms so the preacher could sleep among the toys or two blankets and a pillow made the bed along with the occasional couch.

Shuddering at the thought of starting a new marriage in those circumstances brought on the thoughts of an RV. Inquiries made brought about the purchase of 1970 Silver Streak Travel Trailer that was 31' foot long. It was all aluminum and looked much like an Airstream. With a small sitting area in front, then the kitchen, then the bedroom pushed against the wall the bathroom was in the rear. It was our home! Upon hooking up to a brand new 1975 Dodge Cordoba, 2 door hardtop, with a 440 Police Interceptor motor the blogger headed to Illinois to be married.

Standing outside the rig, alone and a bit afraid, the young blogger new nothing of the unfriendly tasks of the RV lifestyle.  Easing out on Highway 59 the roar of the 440 quickly got the caravan up to speed and then the traffic light turn to yellow. Brakes applied and it was quickly shown that this rig is not going to stopped! As many times in the past the gas pedal was pushed to streak through the yellow light forgetting again that 31' Feet of Travel Trailer had to come through as well. Whew, it was made! Peering out the rear view mirror to look for the cop was no use so the mirrors on the side were scanned and then it began to weave.  Not a moment could you take your eyes off the road and the tension set it.

Driving far into the night the decision was made to sleep in the RV in the Rest Area. There were batteries on the Travel Trailer after all and here's a Rest Area just outside of Little Rock so the one who had never camped out before became a boondocker. Sliding into a long parking spot between two semi trucks certain satisfaction as to having my own bed brought a smug look and locking the car the short walk to the rolling motel was made.

It was late December and cold but no problem, we have butane heat. Yes butane not propane as we were Texas boys. Didn't know the stuff would freeze and the furnace blowing the 300 pound hulk was flung into the bed not realizing that it was not a full size bed but more like three quarter. Sleep came.

And went. Rig after Rig of Macks, Kenworths, Peterbuilt, Volvo and a Ford truck or two came in and out. So staring at the ceiling the free parking space had to be thought out. No new bride could be asked to try to sleep with the rumble of a diesel truck outside of her bedroom window! That night the great thinker began to devise free parking spots to find rest without the roar of diesels in a hurry to stop, in a hurry to go and the rush of air being dumped out as the driver slept high up above the world in his truck.

Bleary eyed the blogger stepped out the door of the Travel Trailer and locked up. Forgetting to turn off all the lights, heater, hot water heater the skip was out of the step and miles had to be made to be in town in time for the wedding.  Creeping out of the Rest Area back on to the freeway the mind began to race of all the responsibilty that was now upon the happy, go lucky preacher.  But, the bride was waiting and the heart was pounding and then the snow began to fall on the roadway after Memphis....