Three Amigo’s Bus Porn

The following slide show is a sampling of the coaches present at the Three Amigo’s Bus Rally recently held in Oklahoma City.  I don’t believe we missed any of them.  I did not label the coaches, because I was not all that sure of the owners of the coaches represented here.  It is however, a fair showing of the equipment that people drove from all over the United States in order to attend.

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Related Article:  Back Home And Re-Charged.

Throttled Back And On The Plug

It is good to be home and back amongst familiar things.  Having finished Three Amigo’s and our third bus trip for the year, we feel somewhat circumspect and ready for a little rest.  I have to admit, it seems a little strange, not sleeping under an air conditioning unit, howling away up there in the ceiling and keeping me cool and awake at the same time.  Hearing a gentle tap on the door during a nap and a voice inquiring ….. “Hey anyone in there?” … Old Trailways veteran buses unfortunately, do not have door-bells.  But I digress, it is good to be back here at our Goat Farm.

For some strange reason, I feel assured that we will survive.   Kind of bittersweet in a way, putting up the old hoopie for the winter, almost like backing an old horse into the stall, giving him a bucket of oats, a quick scratch behind the ears, and then shutting the barn door.

Today as I pointed his nose west towards El Reno, Oklahoma, and the public dump-station, a part of me wanted to just fly past that exit and head on to another golden sunset on the plains somewhere west of Amarillo.  Following in the tire tracks of Granville, Roger & Dan, Pete and E.J., and other Prevost notables.

But I didn’t.

This is the time of the year, when the bird houses come down, get cleaned and readied for next season.  Where you hit the power switch on the bus (turn it off) and make sure all the little parasitic battery drains have nothing to munch on and create a host of problems later on.

The time of the year, when you get out the Rand McNally Atlas, while college football fills the room with background noise, and you make long imaginary trips to places unknown in the comfort of your favorite chair.  If there was never a fall in my year, then I suppose I would have to invent it, because I often look forward to it with great anticipation.

That wondrous and great window of time, when you rake up a huge pile of dead leaves, and then the grandkid hits it head first at about ninety miles and hour and his little sister laughs with glee.

Life is good.

Now will come a time of short days and long cold winter nights, I can already feel it in my bones.  Also, winter-time for a bus nut is the time of the year, he makes good on all the promises his brain made during the warm months.  The doors that just don’t close right, get tweaked a little.  The batteries in the clock get changed.  A coat of paint where it is needed and some improvements (large and small) are lined up and readied for the work-bench.

There is always something to do when you own a bus, and winter time is the period where you hone your skills and improve your braggin’ rites for the next get together.  Where you sit down with “old new friends” eat barbecued Alabama pig-sicles (ribs).  Where you can dip out some good spicy home-made finger food that your wife labored to provide in a clean bowl.

Food that the husband has affectionately told everyone within ear-shot …. “My wife made that Road Kill, that there grub is reeeeeeeally goood.”  Now comes a short time to regroup and re-generate and look forward with great anticipation to the next gathering of the Prevost Community …..

I can hardly wait.


Shell Oil Sucks

As a typical American, I have multiple vehicles, all of which require fuel in order to use.  So this year, I applied for and was granted a Shell Oil Card for my purchases.  This card is not directly issued by Shell, but by Citigroup a credit card outfit in South Dakota.

This where the first problem rears its ugly head.  They issue the card, and then promptly put a $400 limit on the card, even when your credit rating is absolutely blemish free and stellar.  Try figuring out how to fill up three cars on a $400 limit at today’s prices and then throw in a bus with a 225 gallon tank, and you can readily see what the problem might be.

Last month I sent them $225.00 in the form of a check, my account balance at that time was $223 and some change.  They in turn, converted my check to an electronic payment (which allows them to keep the check, a practice I did not ask for), then they submitted the billing to my bank, who issued funds to them as payment.  Nice huh, now I have NO proof of payment.

This is where it all starts to unravel.

The Nimrod in South Dakota, reading the check submits it as “$25 instead of $225” and my bank pays the lesser amount.  Now I note that this error has occurred so I call them to inform them of the error.  This is when they start the process of trying to make me jump thru hoops and you are required to listen to elevator music, while they put you on hold trying to figure out what the hell they are doing?

Then the girl comes back on the telephone after what seems like an eternity of time (roughly 13 minutes) and informs you (the consumer) that YOU need to issue a NEW CHECK in the amount of $200.00.  So you ask why?  They are the one’s who caused the problem, but they dump it right back on you, and you are supposed to gladly cough up an additional $200 while they figure out the best way to handle the problem.  With no assurances as to what they are going to do with the check that they now have, which has a $200 balance still on it.

Now I am informed that they are going to dispute the payment for me and that resolution of this problem could possibly take as long as sixty days.

What a crock.

It is no wonder why America has turned into a lousy third world debt ridden country with moron’s like this routinely screwing up the simplest of business dealings and then failing (often with impunity) to stand up and correct what it is they _____ up.  (You fill in the blanks)

In this day and age, motor-fuel is a necessity of life, I don’t own a horse, and I am too old to ride a bicycle.  But one thing is for sure …. I don’t “NEED” Shell Oil Company … Like flea’s on a dog, locations to purchase motor-fuel are everywhere.

I am going to stop doing business with Shell, they most likely will just keep rolling right on down the boulevard without me and I will not be missed.  Sad to say, I kind of feel like a one armed man at an ass kicking contest, almost as if I brought a pen knife to a gun fight.

It could be Shell Oil that is messed up, or it could be the people who handle their accounts, which is Citigroup.  In the end, some sixty days down the line, you could find yourself kicking the wrong dog and starting all over.  As it stands I really do not know who is at fault here, I just know that it is bad business and they can forget mine, I am taking mine somewhere else.

One thing is for sure … I don’t need crap like this.  Both of them, can kiss the part of me that goes over the fence last.


Cartoons courtesy of