Three Weeks to X-Country Launch

Venice Beach, Calif. -- The home is in decent shape. We're in decent shape. With the cross-country portion of the Tour launching in just three weeks we've got just enough time to get fully ready. We're keeping busy by training, finalizing sponsor deals, and preping the '83 Airstream ready for a summer of maintenance-free service.

Thanks to a California-heavy AVP May schedule, we've still managed to compete each of the past few weekends. An easy drive last Thursday brought us to Huntington Beach for a competitive AVP Qualifier. After a short but fun stay we took the rest of our weekend in Hermosa Beach where thousands of people were out enjoying the Memorial Day Fair.

Parked alongside Pier Avenue, our HeadBlade -adorned RV got plenty of attention from the estimated 120,000 attendees. Many Fair-goers also took in the action of a 41-team CBVA (California beach volleyball Association) Men's Open at the Pier. After a windy Saturday and a perfect Sunday we finished at 4th and renewed our AAA ratings. The tournament was great training, but so was the 4-man throw-ball played on Memorial Day. No refs, no warming up, and of course no beer drinking... See you in Hermosa for the AVP Open

Getting Rolling -- the '06 Journey Begins

Funny thing about engines: they're happier when they're working. Might also be true of people.

Getting the engine started for our 3rd annual trip to Tempe a few weeks ago took all three batteries. Still, after a good 10 minutes of idling she was purring like a 2-packs-a-day mountain goat. As we climbed out of California and entered Arizona, the engine smoothed out nicely. Until we let Arty drive.

Arty (yes, the One-Man-Party) Baron was along for the ride, along with veteran companion Ed Ratledge, me, Jack, and Arty's surfer friend Ty. After our one stop for gas, Arty offered to spell me at the wheel. Experience has taught that the home is happiest between 50 and 55 mph, but Arty had other things on his mind. While most people might take a few minutes, or months to warm up to driving a 31' vehicle, Arty was being telephone interviewed by Volleyball Magazine within minutes of taking the wheel. Also within a few minutes we hit 57 mph. Jack reminded Arty to take it easy. Still being interviewed, Arty crept it to 60. Minutes later, Ed glanced at his GPS and told us we'd hit 65. Jack, who wears many hats, put on his enforcer cap and kept Arty well under 75 the rest of the way to Tempe. The home will surely thank us later for the chance to stretch its legs.

Parked it at the site and proceeded to step on, then quickly off the sand. I’m no meteorologist, but I’m guessing the sand was ‘hot.’ Eventually, a watered down version of your regular court opened up and we got a short workout in for the next day's qualifier. This being a small draw, 17th or better got in to the Main Draw. Scott Hill and I took a 25th by beating a very small then a very large team.

The rest of the weekend we tooled the home through downtown Tempe gathering folks for a Sunday afternoon poolside BBQ. The pool, BBQ, multiple showers, and a remarkably addictive video game provided by Arty’s friend Mike. Thanks, Mike!

Cruised the rolling home home on Monday with the addition of Ed’s wife Jessica, who’d flown out to catch his strong 5th place finish. By cleverly keeping Arty out of the vehicle, we kept the home cruising like a Kenyan marathoner back to Venice.

Incidentally, while driving I pointed out that the odomoter had just turned over -- the home had officially crossed the 100,000-mile mark. Ed suggested pulling over, getting out the cameras, calling Guinness, yada. He liked my response: "Nah, we'll just catch it at the the 200."

Unexpected Mail and a U.S. Crossing Timetrial

“Any mail?” is a question Jack and I often ask each other upon returning to the Airstream. Since we’re a moving target, the only mail we might expect is a parking ticket, so “no mail!” is the preferred response. Amazingly, we’ve only averaged a parking ticket per year in the 31’ beast.

When our schedule allows, Jack and I coach volleyball camps during the week. After finishing up a 3-day camp in Richmond, we were out to dinner with my sister and the rest of the Virginia Commonwealth University coaching staff. Upon returning to the home, something appeared to be on the windshield. Expecting the standard “Parking Ticket,” we instead found a short note from one of the campers: “Nothing sexier than 2 bald guys! From Sarah and the bald girl.”

Sarah is 16, or maybe 14. Sarah’s ride home, the ‘bald girl,’ was indeed bereft of hair. Perhaps the note was merely Sarah thanking us for our help in the camp. I like to think that the bald girl appreciated the logo on our shirts and the motorhome promoting the beauty of a clean head. HeadBlade , a system for shaving the head, is our primary sponsor. Thanks to Sarah and the bald girl for the nice note -- now we'll have to change our preconceived notion of mail.

Pretty easy pull, the 361 miles from Richmond to Long Island, NY where we would play in the 4^th annual Island Beach Volleyball event. After the now usual morning rain, tea, and guests (including the infamous Tony Zapata and Owen McKibbin) we proceeded to play some of the North East’s finest beach volleyball players. The 4^th time was apparently the charm. After my past 3 previous ho-hum finishes at the IBVB Jack and I finished a respectable 3^rd, netting us enough gas money to get back across the U.S. We finished on Sunday, and I was scheduled to play the AVP Qualifier with Scott Hill on Thursday in Hermosa Beach.

After toying with the idea of leaving Jack and the Airstream on this coast for a month or so, we decided that goin’ back to Cali, to Cali for some honest work and AVP tournaments was the way to go. Check my math: 3000 miles, averaging 50 mph. Should take about 60 hours. So we timed it right. Leaving NYC on Monday at noon, we should make it to Hermosa Beach for a Thursady 8 a.m. Qualifier, minus a few hours for time changes.

We crossed the country stopping only 11 times for a total of 11 hours. 7 times for gas, 2 food, 1 no-gas, and 1 no power (had to replace the fuel filter). We calmly parked in Hermosa Beach, walking distance from the site, at 3 a.m. In eight hours, I was going to play with a partner I’d never even peppered with, Scott Hill. (We qualified, then managed to take the first game off Lambo and Hyden on Friday, but managed only a 17^th).

It’s hardly beneficial to call out a streak mid-streak, but the success we had has been phenomenal. Parking success, that is. Eight blocks from the Hermosa Pier. Three blocks from the south-side Manhattan courts. Heard the ref’s “10 minutes to gametime” call from my front doorstep in Boulder. $5 / day at the Denver Airport while I flew (I’m not John Madden) to Chicago, and finally, alongside center court for the whole Labor Day weekend event in Aspen, the Motherlode. Despite Sarah and the bald girl, we'll have to keep an eye over our shoulder for new mail...

Who is Maryland's King of the Grass?

I was dealt a karmic blow at the AVP the following weekend. Opting for a bigger blocker for the Belmar AVP event, I got back in touch with Brad Torsone. We had played pretty well together in ’03 on the AVP and in the Pan Am Games. Throughout the Qualifier, we were treated to a chilly rain that wouldn't have been a problem except for the constant wind that blew it sideways. This being a single elimination qualifier, we couldn’t even go uno dos, adios. Uno duno. At least we got out of the wind and rain. We ran to the RV (parked on the street at the event), turned on the heat, and commiserated with some other players over tea.

“Things happen for a reason” is a phrase that works better after an event has taken place. Had Brad and I qualified in Belmar, the Jack and Dave Tour would have missed out on perhaps the best day of volleyball of the summer.

Unencumbered of AVP responsibilities, we contacted my sister Andrea and learned of a grass tournament the following day in the middle of Maryland. She and her boyfriend Billy were signed up, so getting to spend the day with them would be a bonus. The format: King of the Grass. The prize: $1,000 for first -- better than a 13th place on the AVP.

The home, adorned with “ JackAndDavesVolleyballTour.com” on the side in 9” letters, was the last vehicle to pull into the park in full view of all competitors. Our group was now 6 strong including two other women players: Meri-de Boyer and my sister’s friend Oksana. After playing all day with several different partners, all six of us managed to make the final two foursomes. Our women went 1-2-3, Oksana, Meri-de, Andrea. Focus then shifted to the men’s final. Who would take top honors in the individual event? Fortunately for the 4th player who wasn’t on our tour, he cramped up and ended the tournament. Jack, Billy, and I split the top 3 prize money spots and we all headed off for a celebratory dinner. If we're within a thousand miles of Bel Air next summer, we're definitely coming back.

The Jack and Dave Volleyball Tour Index

Times pulled over by State Troopers in 2004: 3
In '05: 0

Flat tires in 2004: 0
In '05: 3

Highest elevation climed in 2004: 5,490
In '05: 11,158 feet, Eisenhower tunnel, Colorado

Campgrounds stayed in 2004: 0
In '05: 0

National anthems played in lederhosen at the 6-man on the accordion in 2004: 0
In '05: 1

Minor breakdowns in 2004 (under 3 hours and/or $200): 3
In '05: 2

Major breakdowns in 2004: 0
In 2005: 0 (knock on wood)

Best meal in 2004: Juan in a Million tacos, Austin Texas
Best meal in 2005: (tie) Nick's BBQ & Catfish in Carlisle, Arkansas, and pre-AVP Qualifier home-cooked eggs and potato breakfast for 10 in Austin, TX
Men named Jim Bob who volunteered and repaired a fuel line in 2004: 0

The NawthEast

After a less than stellar AVP performance in Cincinnati, we were ready to kick some East Coast butt. The host city for our next event was the slowly rebuilding city of Asbury Park, NJ. Since Susie Turner was with us we found her a partner to play the women’s event. Long story short: she and her partner (Meri-de) won, we lost. Since we were free on Sunday, we entered a co-ed Open run by Great American Volleyball about 10 miles down the coast. With the momentum exuding from our female partners, Jack and I managed to both advance to face each other in the final, but that wasn’t, by a long stretch, the story of the day at Bradley Beach, NJ.

Volleyball attracts all kinds of people. Early in morning pool play, one fellow competitor caught all our attentions. This gentleman’s game was unorthodox, from his I’m-an-ancient-Egyptian serve receive stance to his totally 80’s garb: wrap-around glasses and fluorescent short shorts. Being different is fine, but he also constantly berated his partner, a Polish girl who legitimately was the stronger player, which is not fine.

In their first encounter in pool play, Meri-de (Jack’s partner) made a bet, or a wish: that Jack would hit the ball into the guy’s face. In return, she would buy Jack a beer. Obviously, she didn’t know Jack that well, because a) he doesn’t drink, and b) he would make every effort to accomplish the challenge regardless.

In pool play, Susie and I scored the most and allowed the fewest points, earning us a bye into the final. To meet us there, Jack and Meri-de would have to beat the above-mentioned team in the semi. Ahead 20-14 in the second uneventful game, and siding out for the match, Jack said to Meri-de: “If you set it high, I’ll do it.” She had forgotten what "it" was, but after she passed the ball high on top of the net and saw the 80’s guy up to block, head tilted back, arms wide, she remembered….

The ball bounced off his face so high that, as I recall, the jerk had time to scream at his Polish partner one last time before it landed, two courts away from ours, sideways. The destroyed wrap-around glasses were left beside the court. Perhaps in his dazed state he failed to realize his glasses had flown off. Maybe he just couldn't find them. But we sure did. As sunglasses they were now useless, but as a 2nd place trophy (Susie and I won the final) they were...priceless.

Some Emails We Get

Hey!!!

I spied y'all on the 10 E this morning around 7 in the am....

Absolutely LOVE the Airstream as well as the current theme - [HeadBlade] ... extraordinary advertising/marketing potential.......

Good Luck with the next Challenge on the Sand Court!!!!

Kerry

.....................

Jack and Dave,



I just wanted to drop you a quick note and wish ya
nothin' but the best on tour this year. Nice job on your web site (some premium photos) that stirred some fond memories of my VB excursions across country, Europe and South Africa. Although I never experienced the poshness of such a chrome ass dandy, bullet proof, premium-stainless Oscar Meyer, Jetson Infused rolling hot dog on a glimmer stick...that vehicle kicks major arse, bruddahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhsss.



Live it up and knock em dead,

--D.D.



-----------------------------



Hi Dave and Jack,

A friend just told me to check out your website and
basically I just want to say what you guys are doing is
freaking awesome! I haven't had a chance to check out
the pictures, but I did get to skim through your travel
journal.

The stuff you guys are doing totally inspires me! Take care,

--M



-----------------------------



Hey Dudes,



I’m just wondering how you guys are progressing. I really wish I was doing what
you guys are doing. Good idea, good plan, good fun, I’m jealous.



So, do you just pull the van over when it’s time to sleep or do you wake Jack up
and make him drive? Where are you now? Have you picked up anymore stranded
ladies with head wounds? Are you going to make it to Cincinnati on time? Let me know.

Hope all is well.



--M.R.



-----------------------------



Those pics were probably some of the funniest pics I have ever seen, along with the stories.



--JH



-----------------------------



You might remember myself and my boys from a gas station in Utah (think beer for shave gel). Anyways, I remembered the website that was printed on your pimp ride and checked it out. Right on for all your 1st place wins.

I also wanted to thank you for being an individual who took the time to say a few words and make an impression on my boys. Your kindness and generosity weren't lost on them and for that you won't be forgotten. Thanks and good luck on the tour and that long long drive from Chicago back home.

I'll keep an eye out and make sure to catch a game sometime,

I, E, E, B and M

Through the flats and other repair issues: Venice to the Jersey Shore

One flat tire is no big deal. In almost 40 straight hours of motoring from Venice Beach to Columbus, it’s sort of a nice break. With our newly-acquired sponsor HeadBlade (The Ultimate Head Shaving System), we were much less attractive to drug-searching State Troopers who had given us three driving breaks in ’04 (see last year’s travel diary).

This being our first flat in the Airstream, we were careful not to change it too quickly – a second flat might be a source of disappointment if it took longer to change than the first. We set the bar at 90 minutes, including some adjustments to the hub cap and some star gazing in the open country sky. Should another tire fall flat, we welcomed the challenge of setting a new record.

We left a few days early for the Cincinnati AVP tournament to work on my grandma’s house in nearby Columbus. After a couple days of cleaning house, we were on our way to pick up our friend and co-ed partner of choice, Susie Turner. On the way to the Columbus airport, we suffered breakdown #1. Hardly being bashful, the home decided to spew her transmission fluid in the middle of the busiest intersection of Ohio State University.

AAA is a fantastic service, but in the time it took for the oversized tow-truck to arrive, we had had company over, sent Jack and Susie out for dinner, they had eaten, and returned after getting ice cream. Just as a young but ornery officer paid a visit, suspicious that we were merely shamefully attempting to get attion for our new sponsor (www.HeadBlade.com), our tow-truck rescuer arrived at our corner of 17^th and High St. After towing us 8 blocks to grandma’s, the driver discovered that a transmission line had merely become unclamped. Jack had it clamped in under five minutes, (pretty high bar) and we were off to the sand courts on campus to play with the locals. The locals, after some ill-advised betting, ended up treating us to more ice cream at the local United Dairy Farmers.

The Cincinnati AVP venue was tricky to find, but well worth the effort. We were told to look for the tennis center, but turns out the 10,000-seat tennis stadium that was retrofitted to house the volleyball tournament sits within a golf course. Thanks to cell phones and a number of fellow players arriving at the same time, we managed to get there and park within a stone’s throw of the outer courts.

Accommodations for golf and tennis players appear to be a step up from the usual beach volleyball Players’ Tent. We were treated to a fantastic food spread, TV w/remote, air conditioning, and unbelievably, indoor showers. The promoters apparently didn’t get the memo that qualifiers don't eat, drink, or bathe. Even once showers were taken off the menu, we were still feasting on roast beast and fighting over the remote.

After splitting our matches in the Friday Qualifier, Jack, Susie, and I were free to race to the Jersey Shore for a $7,500 event in Asbury Park, New Jersey that started the next day. With time to spare, we were cruising along highway 70 until we realized, with the aid of Flat Tire #2, that we were driving without a spare.

Somewhere in West Virginia exists a town 70,000 people. Despite having 14 tire shops, this town had not a single tire that would fit the home. Ordering one was a possibility, but we had to cover 300 milesby morning, and it was 6 p.m. To be fair, Jack had pointed out our lack of a spare when we had passed a Wal-Mart somewhere in Columbus. To increase our pre-tournament sleep, and vaguely cognizant that the right tires wouldn’t be stocked at Wal-Mart, I had vetoed stopping. I therefore felt the full weight of the RV on my shoulders when our temporary hometown failed to produce a single 19.5-inch tire.

A truck-stop attendant assured us that truckers routinely cover ground with one functioning tire on a set of 2 dualies, so we expanded the phone search by a hundred miles. Miraculously, after 2 hours of calling we found a truck-repair place with two(!) of our tires in stock. We white-knuckled it on half a dualie for an hour, then pulled up at arguably the best tire shop in the world for our purposes. It not only had two new tires, but also had two used tires with decent tread for $60 each (the new ones were $160 each). Up $200 dollars, armed with a spare, and with the weight of the home lifted off my shoulders, we were on our way.

Sorry to point out: when we were driving on the flat, a friend had called. “Didn’t you just have tire issues?” she asked. “They've put in lots of miles….They were tired.” Needless to say, as we pulled up to the beach in Asbury Park at 3 a.m. for the 8 a.m. tournament, so were we.

Carlsbad - Austin, Including the Bloody Woman Incident

When the headlights quit working at 4am in the out-outskirts of Austin, Jack knew just what to do: he pulled the home over for a two-hour rest, resuming with the rising sun. When the bloody woman crawling on the side of the road flagged us down, Jack again knew just what to do.

No stranger to horror movies, he knew the hiding attacker would jump us from the rear, trapping us between himself and the bloody woman. Therefore Jack swung the home around in a way that placed the crawling figure behind us. With our escape route clear, he directed her to our side entrance door. She was coherent enough to follow basic orders, but not coordinated enough to make the doorstep on her first try. She was shaking and moving slowly -- probably in shock. Even before Ed had a chance to offer her his comforter, Jack sped us back onto the highway and began his gentle line of questioning: “Who did this to you?” “Why are you lying to me?” “Holy God, if you don’t start telling me the truth, woman.”

Up to this point, I had been asleep on my back bed, confident in my travel companions’ situation-handling abilities.

Groggily making my way to the front, I witnessed some more of what Ed later correctly dubbed the “good rescuer, bad rescuer” routine. Her story had her in a single car wreck on a highway several miles from where we found her, sometime within the past six hours. The not-small twig hanging from her swollen lip attested that she had, ahem, covered some ground.

Ed coaxed her husband's info out of her and politely called him with her whereabouts (in a moving RV with three dudes somewhere in Texas) and condition (not stellar). Husband said something about her skipping her anti-depression meds and going for a head-clearing 3 a.m. drive, which was confirmed by our call to the hospital a few hours later. Meanwhile, Jack worked on getting to the heart of the matter as we drove about fifteen miles to the next town. After waking up the local EMT we handed her off, snapped a photo of the ambulance, and collectively shook the heebie-jeebies out of our systems.

In the outskirts of Austin, we got the headlights fixed, which for some reason meant replacing the starter solenoid. Upon learning the gist of our travels, the mechanics decided that the Airstream needed a nickname, and provided us with a name as they applied a sticker with said name on the front of the RV. The winning moniker: The Power Probe. They were really excited about it, so we left it on until we hit the next gas station.

The State Capitol Building in Austin is bigger than the U.S. Capitol Building. Ed Ratledge and I found this out on the tour the next day, after spliting training matches against the Chinese FIVB team. Jack was resting from all the previous day's excitement -- probably not sleeping well on account of the murderous attacker still following us. Ed and I also found out that Texas can NOT secede from the U.S. if it desires, and that the Texas flag is no different from any other concerning its positioning relative to the U.S. flag. These are rumours that are actually believed by many Texans. Another true thing about Texas is that a young female attorney who somehow defends the state is really attractive -- she shared an elevator with me and Ed.

Once in Austin, we managed to make two separate new groups of friends who each took us boating on Lake Austin. We were jumping from a giant rope swing one day, and hopping from our boat to a pontoon boat serving margaritas the next. This rope-swinging / margarita drinking was only made possible by the kindness of the Austin populace, and by the volleyball playing of Jack and Dave in the qualifier, where we uno'd out. If life hands you rope swings and margaritas...