An Unexpected Detour to Elkhart, IN
80% of the RVs in the world come from a city in Northwestern Indiana. When our RV broke down, we ended up there for four days
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My family and I just got home from a long RV trip. We camped in six new states for us, visited with extended family in a few places, and saw plenty of interesting sights, many of which I hope to dive into more in depth soon in this newsletter.
But today, I want to talk about an unexpected incident that happened on the final leg of our journey. We were heading home from our last major stop, camping in Indiana Dunes State Park, an idyllic place unexpectedly tucked along the shores of Lake Michigan with beautiful sunset views of the Chicago skyline, juxtaposed with the pollution of nearby Gary, Indiana.
It was a Sunday morning when we left the Dunes, merging onto the combined I-80/I-90, which would take us all the way back to Massachusetts without making a single turn. We settled in for what would be 12 or so hours of driving.
I soon began noticing signs for nearby cities, including Elkhart, Indiana just a few miles to our east. I had heard of Elkhart before; it’s practically infamous in the RV community, because something like 80% of all RVs in the world are manufactured in Elkhart and the surrounding region of Northern Indiana. (Our coach is a Winnebago, so it’s part of the 20% made elsewhere, in our case in Forest City, Iowa.)
I didn’t realize we’d be passing through Elkhart and had no idea what they even had there, but I imagined some kind of RV paradise. I know of RV folks that have traveled to Elkhart as a kind of pilgrimage or who have been able to get service or upgrades to their rigs directly from the factory.
Elkhart was beckoning me, only I had no idea why. I briefly considered a stop there and imagined what it might be like, but the reality of our trip ahead told me that suggesting this to my wife would not be sound advice. We had a long journey, with only 30 minutes or so under our belt for the day. Elkhart would have to wait for another time. Or so I thought.
Within a few minutes of traveling, I felt like our RV had some wobble to it. This can sometimes happen on various road surfaces, so I kept an eye on it without getting too nervous. As I navigated a curve in the road, the ride seemed to get much bumpier, but then smoothed out once the wheel went straight again.
Something didn’t feel right. My wife could feel it too and we talked about it. We were in a rural stretch in Northern Indiana where exits and rest areas were sparse. I couldn’t see any smoke or other concerning things in my mirrors or the rear-view camera. Still, we decided the best option was to find a wide, straight section of shoulder and stop to investigate further.
I signaled to get over to the right, but as I began to apply the brakes, my entire rig got pulled across the line to the left and I heard a loud pop sound. My motorhome was swerving, but I was able to get it under control and landed it just over the yellow line on the left shoulder.
Not knowing what had happened, my family and I immediately evacuated into the center grassy median. My fuel tank carries 50 gallons of gasoline when full, plus there’s a large propane tank on board, so if there was any chance of a fire, we wanted to get as far away as possible.
From the median, I could assess the damage. Both rear tires on the driver side seemed to have blown out. The lug nuts holding the wheels in place were gone, as was one of the wheels entirely. There were black marks all over the wheel well and some of the trim had broken apart.
I had remembered seeing a sign a few miles back that encouraged motorists to call 911 with emergencies, so that’s just what I did. I assured the dispatcher that we were safe. She asked if we needed a tow truck and I said yes.
A state trooper soon arrived and helped block traffic from hitting us. Then a repair truck arrived, hoping he could fix our tire with the spare we had on board. He assessed the situation and determined it was beyond what he could fix with his equipment and we’d need to be towed. He called a colleague that arrived with a giant flatbed truck. Our RV was hoisted up onto the truck and we followed behind. We were being taken to a tire shop in, of all places, Elkhart, Indiana. I would get to see Elkhart after all.
My hope to make a quick stop in Elkhart to see some quick RV sights and get back on the road turned into four days of purgatory, waiting on parts, waiting on repairs, waiting to pass our time.
We were lucky that our insurance would cover some hotel expenses, so we checked in to a mid-tier Hilton brand near the interstate. I was looking forward to taking the kids swimming in the hotel pool, but after changing into our swimsuits and trekking downstairs, we discovered the pool was very cloudy. It seemed like taking a dip in such dirty water was ill advised (discounting of course that we had been swimming in Lake Michigan just a few miles from the smokestacks of Gary the day before).
We spent the next day or so pretty tethered to the two mile or so radius around Exit 92 off I-80, where our RV was sitting at the tire shop. The hours were filled with that nervous anxiety of waiting for the phone to ring- hoping for good news, bad news, any news. We walked the aisles of a Goodwill thrift store, browsed the processed foods in the aisles of local supermarket Martin’s and Midwest staple Meijer’s, and ate takeout from the fast food joints littering the highway interchange.
Eventually, we at least had a diagnosis and a probable cause. It looked like when I purchased new tires this past spring, the shop that installed them didn’t securely tighten the lug nuts that hold the tires in place. After 1,500 miles or so of vibrating, apparently the lug nuts gave up, the dual tires on the rear axle likely collided with each other, and we ended up in Elkhart. The repair required two new wheels, two new tires, new studs, and new lug nuts.
While the tire shop worked to locate parts, we felt like we were at least making some forward progress. We felt like we could breathe a bit again and we decided to expand our radius and do some actual pleasurable sightseeing.
We explored Downtown Elkhart, which has a sizable and relatively thriving Main Street district (which readers of this newsletter know I love). We ate in a cute natural food cafe that my wife found online. It was delicious! We browsed in boutique stores with one-of-a-kind merchandise. We stole a quick peek at the historic Lerner Theatre, which was completely restored in 2011. We even ate ice cream.
Afterwards, we went to the RV and Manufactured Home Hall of Fame and Museum. Footballers have Canton. Baseball fans have Cooperstown. RV folks have Elkhart.
The museum is in a massive warehouse and showcases dozens of vintage RVs, the oldest from the 1913. Some are simple pop-up campers that may have been pulled by a Model T. Others are noteworthy, like Mae West’s “house car” that was designed for comfortable road travel.
There were vintage Airstreams, Blue Birds, and GMCs, plus one of the first Jayco trailers ever built from 1968 and the 1985 personal prototype of Fleetwood Founder John Crean’s Bounder, which went on to become one of the most popular Class A motorhomes (and would become Walter White’s mobile meth lab in Breaking Bad).
My personal favorite was one of the first Winnebago motorhomes from 1967. While a lot has changed from that Winnebago to mine, it still made me feel like part of a long legacy.
Perhaps more importantly, it helped cleanse my palate a bit. The whole experience of having my RV fail on me and leaving me in a bind left me feeling a little down on camping and seeing America by road. But realizing how generations of people have followed this same path made me remember what I loved about owning an RV for the last four years.
By our fourth day in Elkhart, all of the parts had been located and were at the service shop, but it was unclear if our coach would be able to be repaired that day. Somehow, the clouds parted, and a miracle happened.
Our service advisor, whose job it is to interface with customers, order parts, and prepare invoices rolled up his sleeves and began to work on our rig personally. Before his current role, he had spent ten years as a mechanic, and with no other mechanic free, he thought he would tackle the job himself.
As other jobs finished, other mechanics would join him. At one point, there were four different technicians all working on our rig. It looked a bit like a NASCAR pit crew. Many of the staff members at this tire shop stayed more than an hour past closing time to ensure that our RV was safe and drivable. (Shout out to Monteith’s Best One Tire in Elkhart!)
After four unexpected days in Elkhart, we were back on the road. We could only drive for a few hours that evening, and spent the night in a Bass Pro Shops parking lot near Toledo, Ohio. The next day, we raced across Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Upstate New York to arrive back in Massachusetts.
As awful and unexpected as the circumstances were that brought us to Elkhart, our family seemed to really cherish our time there. We had no choice but to slow down and appreciate what was around us. We had to exercise patience.
Our fate was in somebody else’s hands. When you literally travel with your own kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, it’s not easy to give up that sense of control to others. But we had no choice.
The people of Elkhart treated us well. The sights caught our attention. The small town vibe was amazing, and a beautiful departure from the suburban sprawl of big boxes and fast food that surrounds the interstate exit. If you’re only perception of Elkhart is the area around the toll road, you’re missing the best parts!
I don’t know that we’ll ever intentionally go back to Elkhart, but I’m grateful that we ended up there. Sometimes it’s the unexpected, unplanned detours in life that are the most meaningful and shape us the most.
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Holy crap! The lug nuts! Glad you all were safe and made the best of what happened,