Josh’s journal

In Josh’s words.

I woke up, showered off, and was honestly getting tired of road-tripping. I wanted to sit still for a moment. I did.

I waited for The Casey Jones Home and Museum to open. I ate the hotel-provided breakfast, which I’ve had worse. Jackson hotels were interesting, if for no other reason than they still have smoking rooms (I didn’t take one, but still). The hotel was one in a string that all were competing on price. I also managed to get all the trackables put onto the profile page.

The museum was well done, especially since I’d never heard the story of Casey Jones. The museum was built for efficiency because after watching the mini-documentary (less than 10 minutes), I’m pretty much an expert, and the layout for the building creates a factory-line-like path for the exhibit…you are moved through it with options for faster egress if desired.

Leave the theater, which is the first thing you do; you get pulled into an exhibit, a switchback corral with various exhibits. That dumps you into a passage you would have hit had you gone straight. A side exhibit rehashes some parts from the video with the funeral coach and a model of the accident.

Outside is the train, which is not on the main path, though what was interesting for me was the design of the fuel car. It had wooden slats that held back the fuel. You’re shoveling this into the train, so having a wall is inconvenient. So, it’s designed to take the upper beam off and place it on a shelf on top of the car, giving you easier access to more fuel.

The house was lovely to look at. And here’s where the efficiency of movement falls apart. You must return to the front of the train (and the souvenir shop). But, if that’s the worst thing, you’re probably okay.

I ate at the store and restaurant and checked out other shops before leaving town.

I stopped to drop off more trackables before returning to Nashville, TN. That’s when I realized I was missing one. I take projects pretty seriously, especially if other people are buying in, so I retraced my steps where I was. No luck there; I drove back to Jackson and retraced my steps there. Then I gave up.

I’ll talk to the Geocaching folks to see the protocol. Then, maybe make a new one and dedicate it to the POW/MIA folks.

I made it back to Nashville in one piece. First, I cleaned Mom’s car, which I had been doing all along, and I dread having to clean it again as the front looks like the tray in the bottom of a bug zapper at a campground.

I woke up early and headed for the Discovery Place, with a sidestep to drop another trackable.

The Discovery Place was fun though it did seem a little worse for wear; however, the whole town I had seen seemed that way and reminded me of Dayton, OH, in that regard. No disrespect meant just what it is.

The best thing for me was a tiled wall. If you place your palm onto the tiles, a sound is produced. But, if you only place a finger or two, nothing happens. Beyond that, it gave the appearance of a daycare center with no admittance.

I left and made my way to the post office. I crossed a state line road and tried to get a shot of the post office just as I was crossing from Texas into Arkansas. As I did, a man called out, “Hey! Are you the one who owns the Harold building?”

Given I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and Vribrams, and the only signs of affluence were the iPhone I was using to take the shot and an AirPod hanging in my ear, I could not fathom what would make him think I owned a building. But I just said, “Nope.”

David B, the homeless Vietnam veteran, and I talked for some time. He introduced me to some of his friends. He gave them a grocery bag filled with food for which they were sincerely grateful. When they had left, he said something to the effect of:

Just because I have nothing doesn’t mean I can’t give.

He invited me to lunch at a soup kitchen down the road, where he assured me I would meet “Some of the nicest and most giving people I would ever meet.”

I thanked him for extending the courtesy and explained that I was headed out of town and making up for some lost time. I gave him $20 for entertaining me, answering my questions, and making me laugh. He was eternally grateful and assured me I didn’t need to do that. I assured him that it came from more than just me and people who also didn’t have to give it to me.

It made me think that giving (money specifically) sometimes isn’t just about receiving value in return—paying for a candy bar. It’s about trusting that the person you have given the money to will invest it wisely and in a way you might respect. If I had thought David B would invest it in drugs or alcohol, I might not have given it to him…maybe.

I got to the post office and took a panoramic shot from my feet, standing in both states to the top of the flagpole. I visited the Korean and Vietnam War memorial again for some better pictures. Ate a quick lunch. And I was headed on my way.

I told those following the HiDo K.D. Road Trip that if we could get the last two solo trackables claimed (two people) before I left Little Rock, AR, then Mom and I would head to the entrance of The Devil’s Ice Box.

I was looking for a discovery museum again, two in one day.

This was a fascinating experience and feat of civil engineering, but not in a good way. I was in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I hopped into a lane I thought ended; instead, it went to the exit I wanted, which no one was taking. So I sped up and took the exit. As I rounded the curve, there was a fork, and the GPS said, “Keep right,” so I did, right into another curve, another fork, and another “Keep right”; I did turn right into another curve. This curve ended at a stop sign. I was to turn left. Then another left. I parked.

I looked at the map on the GPS to grasp what I had just done. Effectively, I had gone through the corkscrew of a roller coaster. Good times.

I dropped a trackable before heading to the Museum of Discovery.

This was entertaining. The magnetic wall to create ball gravity tracks, the pedal machine for seeing the energy difference between incandescent and CFL bulbs, and a tornado room, which I did not experience—probably because the museum was closing.

I left and went to drop a few more trackables before hightailing it out of there.

From Little Rock, AR, I headed to Brownsville, TN, as there were more places to drop trackables. I was putting severe pressure on myself to drop as many of them as possible.

Unfortunately, every cache spot in Brownsville was either full of nope or full of “I think someone in a small town got bored” because I didn’t find any caches. So, I struck out on three of three attempts. That’s never happened before. So, if they exist, I salute the owner. If they don’t, that’s annoying—more of a Spaceballs salute at that point.

I decided the vibe in Brownsville was a little too Children of the Corn. I was going to pull off into a rest area on the map only to discover that, like the caches, it didn’t exist. At that point, I decided to head to Jackson, TN, for the last site.

Found the hotel. I was checked in. I dropped a trackable (seriously, these things are everywhere). And went to bed.

I woke up and coordinated with a friend I was supposed to have lunch with. Unfortunately, another friend had to bail out on dinner, which was bittersweet. Bitter because it took a decade for us to meet in person for the first time, and it had been a few years since then. Sweet, because it meant I could make it to Texarkana in one shot, having dubbed the Austin + Dallas leg the Molasses Leg, given how many friends I apparently have in the area.

My friend and I ate and caught up on what had been happening since last we spoke, which wasn’t long ago. We also dropped a trackable by his office as I introduced him to Geocaching.

Then I headed out. I said it before, and I’ll say it again, Dallas drivers sure know how to drive, considering they don’t know how to drive. Watching many of them weave through traffic is impressive and wholly unnecessary.

I arrived in Texarkana and hit the first hotel that came up in a search. It was the first time I arrived in a city with what I felt was some time to kill. So I went to a geocaching spot and dropped another trackable. It was by the Texarkana Post Office, the only Federal building to reside in two states simultaneously.

It was dark, though, which was good considering I was dropping trackables but did not allow for the touristy thing, and Texarkana had two sites I told everyone I would see. So, I headed back to the hotel and caught up on some items (as I had been interleaving various types of business all along this trip—I love the 21st century).

I woke up and continued the gabfest with my friend, who took me to see her mother, who I had not seen since her daughter and I dated in high school. I realized I had missed the promised stop at something called “Bruco” in Italy, TX, and would need to head that way soon if I was going to make it to north Dallas before too late.

I felt strange arriving at the Monolithic Institute. All the egg-shaped structures surrounded me. They weren’t odd looking when taken on their own merit, only in the context and juxtaposition of where I had come. I pulled into a parking spot at the visitor center.

The visitor center is a small dome building, like a model home. The front door is perfectly normal. The main room is like walking into a small studio apartment—a couch to the left, a kitchen area opposite that, and a closet to the right. I noticed a TV suspended on the wall opposite the front door with an arm and a DVD player.

I headed for the small TV and then got sidetracked by the presence of a bathroom. I quickly stepped in and took stock of what was there. A standup shower, sink, and commode. With that, I’d seen the entire house and relieved my bladder.

Then I went back to the TV and powered it and the DVD player on to see what I could see. Unfortunately, I could only access one chapter on the DVD as there was no remote or way to navigate the menu. I left the visitor center and walked across the street to what was labeled as the office.

The social media post I sent my friends summed it up pretty well:

Looks like The Shire and feels like The Stepford Wives.

Long story short, I talked with Gary Clark, Monolithic’s Vice President. He gave me an education on what they do from a business perspective. Then we both headed over to what I had come here for, Bruco. The name of the main manufacturing plant for the air form of various structures they are contracted to build.

The air form is designed and welded together. They fill it with air (hence the name). The interior of the air form is sprayed with urethane to reinforce it (and to turn the inflating fans off). Then a rebar skeleton is laid inside and sprayed with concrete, like an upside-down swimming pool.

The air forms are interesting and are really what makes this different.

They are made of a material similar to a soft-shell many put on a truck bed, which is then covered in PVC material, making it semi-waterproof and wind-resistant. The air form replaces the traditional framing of a building, providing the scaffold upon which the other materials are applied. When the installation is completed, the air form is left in place and can provide rain and wind protection, like shingles and other roofing materials, for a few years.

Gary told me that every building on the lot is an experiment.

Bruco is an experiment that creates a large dome with minimum building materials while providing high durability and strength. That’s why it’s multiple domes instead of a domed cylinder. It would have required more concrete and rebar to maintain stability if they had gone with straight walls. Further, Bruco’s exterior is coated in tin sheets that cover the air form to experiment with different exterior solutions beyond the air form.

The main office, which doubles as a rental office, a secondary business, and a service Monolithic provides, is an experiment in heating and cooling. Specifically, can a space as large as the main office be effectively temperature controlled using nothing more than three or four window AC units?

From firsthand experience, it can. Further, the office employs sound-dampening blankets hung from the ceiling to reduce reverb.

I thanked Gary profusely for the education and tour and headed to North Dallas.

I made it to Lewisville, TX, and opted for a hotel. I dropped another trackable and grabbed something to eat before calling it a night.

I woke up early to be able to say goodbye to everyone. I got into a healthy debate with my cousin-in-law (making up words, I’m sure) before heading out.

The Dr. Pepper Museum was very nice. Mom had worked at a Dr. Pepper facility once. And, despite growing up with no soda in the house, once my parents were divorced, Dr. Pepper was all I drank for 20 years, and I actively avoided drinking water.

I had my first Dr. Pepper in almost five years when I replaced it with water as almost my sole beverage.

I’ve decided that I can only enjoy Dr. Pepper now if it comes from a glass bottle, in which it was manufactured, and is made with natural sugar; needless to say, probably not gonna be drinking a lot of Dr. Pepper.

Then headed to Granbury (outside Dallas) and met a long-time friend, her boyfriend, and his son for dinner. It was good catching up for the night.

I have no concept of time as we typically measure it. So, I was shocked that The Dr. Pepper Museum was closed because it was Sunday. Truth be told, I was shocked to find out it was Sunday. So, my cousin and I went out caching, dropping 11 trackables altogether in two caches. We lucked out.

I woke up feeling surprisingly rested. I hadn’t slept that way since I lived in my car.

I’m glad I didn’t push through the night because I would’ve missed Cooper’s BBQ in Llano, TX. Good food and made friends with a couple of regulars standing in front of me in line.

I dropped a couple more trackables before making it to my cousin’s house.

I woke up and did some more running around to finalize some things. Then Mom and I made our way to Midland, TX. The goal was to make it to Austin, TX while dropping trackables. But unfortunately, we did not make it to Austin.

While in Midland, though, I met a gentleman who is way more knowledgeable about all things Geocaching than I am and picked his brain before dropping the one attributed to me and then three more into a cache he owns.

I made it to a small rest area my cousin told me about. Found one cache but was too concerned about muggles (non-cachers) despite it being quite late at night. So I used the facilities and pressed forward.

I stopped at the next town to drop another trackable. I then kept heading on. I’m trying to remember when I decided to turn back, but I did. I decided I’d rather sleep in a well-lit rest area than try to push through to Austin.

Initially, this was the day I was supposed to leave. But unfortunately, I still had to change the oil in the car, pick up Mom, and handle some incidentals that came up along the way, not the least of which was related to this project.

I had been considering various aspects of this project for a few days leading up to the moment of starting a crowdfunding campaign. First, I wanted a mechanism for people to opt in to “taking a shell” (I’m big on consent), and this seemed an easy way to do that.

The road trip was going to happen even without extra funding. This was more akin to a matching program. You put in a dollar; I put in a dollar.

Three “tiers,” so to speak chosen mainly because of the simplicity as it relates to the US dollar: $1, $5, and $10. There were roughly 20 large shells, and those became the solo trackables. Twenty at $10 apiece would be $200, and I would throw in another $200.

I wasn’t counting on the compassion of my friends and family, most of whom contributed 8 to 10 times more than that. After the first day of the campaign, I ran out and purchased more aesthetically attractive boxes for the 20 solo trackables; while the shipment of the inexpensive lucite ones was on its way. In a way, these trackables became mini-caches with a hitchhiker and trackable inside.