Rapid Circles in Rapid City

No fim, tudo dá certo. Se não deu, ainda não chegou ao fim.

(“In the end, everything will be ok. If it’s not ok, it’s not yet the end.”)

--Fernando Sabino

This morning I woke up early and went on a grand tour of Rapid City, South Dakota.  It wasn’t a tour that I was planning on, but it was a necessary one. I had a leak somewhere in one of my propane lines, and figured that it would be best to get it fixed while I was on my way to the Badlands National Park.   I didn’t realize that it would take so long to get to the end of my repair trip.

Rapid City is the largest city between Wolf Camp and the Badlands National Park, and I figured it would be a good place to find an RV repair shop.  Luckily, there are several RV shops there, as well as propane companies.  I started off by selecting a rather large RV dealer called Dakota Discount RV Sales and Service. 

Meet Jeff...at least half of him.

They had a repair shop with multiple bays as well as about 100 or so RVs and trailers on their lot, so I figured that they would be able to help me.  I walked in and a large man at the front desk asked what he could do for me.  I explained that I had what I thought was a faulty valve on my propane tank, and I was wondering if they would be able to fix it.  He shook his head and said that they don’t do anything with propane. He suggested that I try the Amerigas store that was about 10 minutes away.  I thanked him and drove to Amerigas.  When I arrived, there was one gentleman working there. He saw me drive up in my van and asked if I needed my propane tank filled.  “No, I think I have a bad valve on my tank and I was hoping you could replace it.”

“Oh, we don’t work on RVs here,” he told me.  “You should try going to Dakota Discount RV, which is only about 10 minutes away from here. They service just about anything,” he offered as help.

“Well, they don’t do propane apparently. They are the ones that sent me to you,” I told him. 

“That’s strange, I thought they did that kind of stuff.  But anyways, we don’t do RVs here.  There is another RV shop down the road as well that maybe you can try. It’s called Green Valley RV,” he said as he pointed the opposite direction down the road.

So I headed to Green Valley RV.    I went in and walked over to a counter that said “Service” above it.   A girl behind the desk greeted me, and I asked if they could repair propane tanks on a van.

“Sure! We can do that!” she said cheerily. 

“Fantastic!” I thought to myself.  I started to explain what I needed, and she said “Just one second, let me get the appointment book.”  She pulled out a large book and flipped through a couple pages.  “Can you bring it in next Wednesday?” she asked me.

“Ummm…no.  I’m only driving through and need to get it fixed today.”  This wasn’t going as well as I had hoped.

She frowned and looked apologetic.  “I’m sorry, we’re totally booked for today.  I can maybe get you in early tomorrow morning,” she said, flipping back a page in her book.  I told her that would not work, and asked if she knew of any other places nearby that could help.  She suggested a place called I-90 RV Supercenter.  “It’s only about 10 minutes away,” she offered.

Wall Drug had an ice water store. How cool is that?

So I went to I-90 RV Supercenter.  I repeated my plea for help with my propane tank to a man at the service desk.  “We don’t do propane tanks here. You need a propane shop,” he told me.  I felt like I was on a giant hamster wheel at this point.  I told him I’d been to Amerigas already, that they said they couldn’t do it and that I needed an RV shop.  He shook his head and said, “Oh no, you don’t want to use them.”  (I already knew this) “You should go to CBH Propane. We use them for all that kind of stuff.”

“Are they only 10 minutes away?” I asked him, knowing he would not get my private joke.

“Yes, they are!  Maybe even less.  You just go out to the stoplight back there a couple blocks…or, wait, maybe it’s the second stop light…hold on,” he turned around to shout to someone in the back office, “Hey, Steve, where the hell is CBH?”

I quickly punched “CBH Propane” into Google maps on my phone and found it.  “I’ve got it here on my phone.  Thank you!” I turned around to leave, not being too hopeful about CBH. 

I followed the directions that Google gave me and pulled up to a small shed that was in the middle of a dirt lot. Next to the shed there were three large train-car sized tanks of propane.  A little farther back was a small building that said “Office.”  I pulled up to the office and went inside.  A friendly lady asked if I needed a fill up on propane. I again repeated my story about needing the tank repaired, and she told me to go outside to the little shed, and the man that was back there would help me out.  I walked out to the shed and told a man in blue overalls my problem, and he said I needed to go back into the office—Jeff was in there and he was the one that could help me out.  I was almost dizzy by this time from running around in so many circles.  I went back in and the lady behind the desk looked up quizzically at me.  “He said that Jeff is in here,” I told her.  

“Really?” she looked surprised.  She walked to a small room in the back and said “Oh! He is! Hey Jeff, this guy needs some help with a propane tank.”

A balding man with a friendly face walked out and asked what I needed.  “Let me show you,” I said, figuring that if I could at least get him to look at my tank he might be able to figure it out.  He followed me outside and I showed him the tank on my van.  I showed him how that if I turned it on there was a hissing sound, and that if I turned it off, the hissing sound continued.  He looked down at it, and frowned.  “Have you taken it to an RV place?” he asked me.  I half laughed.

“Yes…three of them.  And a propane place as well.  The last one, I-90 RV sent me to you,” I told him.   He looked down again at it and shook his head.  I was getting ready to just give up on it and was mentally figuring out if I could do the rest of my trip without propane.

“Pull it up to that service garage over there,” he told me and started walking to a large garage with three big doors on it.  There was hope yet!

I wished I was Big

I got into my van and followed Jeff to the garage.  He went inside and came back out with a bottle of soap solution and some tools.  He crawled around under my van, soaping up the valves and hoses.  “The leak is in this regulator here,” he said after several minutes.  “It’s going to be a bitch to get to.  It looks like the hitch and the bumper have to come off.”  That sounded like a lot of labor and a lot of money. My heart sank a level. He kept crawling around underneath.  After several more minutes, he came back up like a diver returning to the surface of the ocean.  He was covered in dirt and grime.  “I think I can maybe do it a different way,” he said.

“That would be great!” I told him, the glimmer of hope getting a little bit brighter.

He spent a little over an hour on it, crawling on the ground in 45-degree weather, contorting himself into strange positions to reach hoses and bolts, and occasionally swearing at it.   As he worked, he made small talk with me as I stood at the foot of my van, watching hopefully.  He asked where I was from and I told him that I was from California. 

“I figured that since you’re standing out here in shorts,” he chuckled.  He asked me if I knew that snow was forecast for Sunday, and if I had any warmer clothes along with me.  I told him that I had a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt or two.

Eventually he fixed it.  He popped up and started brushing off his hands.

“Thanks a lot!” I exclaimed.  And then I braced myself.  “What do I owe you for it?”

“Just go to the office and tell Nancy its $45 for the labor,” he told me, smiling.  “Now you’ll be able to use the heater in this thing when it gets cold.”  I felt like I got off with quite a bargain.  I went in and paid and then came back to my van.  Jeff had just finished washing his hands off and was coming back out of the garage.

Strange hills at Badlands National Park

“That was way less than I expected, and I really appreciate your help,” I said to him.  I gave him a $20 bill and told him I’d like to buy him lunch.   He looked surprised, but thanked me, took the bill, and shook my hand.  It was still much less than I had planned to spend on repairs, and now I wouldn’t have to figure out how to finish my trip without propane. I told myself that maybe I should have visited him first and perhaps I wouldn’t have had to take a grand tour of the city.  But then I figured if I had seen them first, they would have just told me to go to an RV place and I would have done so, and probably would never have gotten my tank fixed.  So in the end, it all worked out like it needed to and I was happy.

I left CBH Propane and headed on down Highway 90 to continue my trip to the Badlands National Park.  On the way, I kept passing all these crazy signs for Wall Drug.

“Free Coffee and Donut for Honeymooners! – Just ahead at Wall Drug!”

“Tasty Ice Water! – Stop at World Famous Wall Drug!”

“Authentic Indian Artwork! – Don’t miss Wall Drug!”

“The Kids Will Love It! – Take them to Wall Drug!”

And so on.  There must have been twenty of them in the period of about 10 miles.  I wished I had taken pictures of some of the signs. They were had goofy old western themed cartoons on them and bright colors.  I figured I had to stop just to check it out (very effective advertising for them!).  A few miles further down I exited at the screaming sign that said “Wall Drug! – Exit Now!” 

I think this was painted

Wall Drug is not just a drug store.  It’s like a little mini western town, a whole set of shops.  There was a boot shop, a candy store, a jewelry store, a café, a rock shop, a drug store (of course), and several other little shops.  The floors and walls were wooden planked like old west buildings, and there were animal heads on the walls.  One main aisle way was lined with carnival-style arcade games and little benches to sit on.  I walked around a bit, just so I could be a tourist, and then got back on the road.

Finally I made it to the Badlands National Park.  This would really be an incredible park to see at sunset.  It is filled with jagged cliffs and cragged rock formations in brilliant striped hues of yellows, reds, and tans. It looks almost as if someone had brushed long, horizontal lines of alternating colors across the entire landscape.  Unfortunately when I was there, it was windy and overcast and raining, so the colors did not show as brilliantly as I bet they could.  It still was a very unique drive, though.  Wild goats frequently could be seen munching on grass alongside the road and on the steep banks of the hills (these were real wild goats, unlike the ones at Mount Rushmore). In addition to the spectacular rocks and mountains, much of the park is covered with grassy plains that are teeming with prairie dogs.  The prairie dogs look kind of like large squirrels, but without the bushy tails.  They scampered through the grass between burrows yipping and squeaking as they went.  At one point I walked part way out into a field, and they all immediately ran to holes and dove underground, yet they persisted in loud, furious yips.  It sounded like the field was full of squeaky wagon wheels.  I stood there for a few minutes, knowing that I was bothering them, but was just transfixed by the noise.  I tried recording it on my phone but there was so much wind that their voices got drowned out and it was fruitless.  I apologized to them for disturbing their afternoon and thanked them for their performance before going back to my van and continuing on.

Tonight I’m spending the night just outside of the Badlands National Park.  Tomorrow morning I’m heading to Sioux Falls, SD.  Jobie’s daughter, Kylie, is just finishing up her second year of school there and she has a track meet tomorrow where she will be doing the steeplechase.  Hopefully she will be the only one of us that is running around in circles, and I will have left all my circular adventures back in Rapid City.

Hot Girls for You! - Wall Drug!