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    The 24th I got an early start. I wanted to get to St. Louis to connect up 

with the MADMEN before the afternoon traffic crunch started and all the 

corporate drones hit the road. Most of the planned route was on freeways, so, 

for the most part, the drive was going to be hot, humid and boring. EG 

decided to make it just a bit more exciting for me. More of that later.



    I found my way out of Clarksville in the rain and onto Highway 79 heading 

for the Land Between the Lakes National Recreation Center. This area, located 

in Tennessee and Kentucky between the Kentucky and Barkley Lakes (hence the 

name) is managed by the Tennessee Valley Authority. Recreation area is a good 

description. Camping, hiking, biking, boating, hunting, fishing and a bunch 

more I've probably overlooked. There are three visitor centers with one 

including a planetarium. Unfortunately, with my schedule for the day, I 

wasn't going to have time to "recreate" and most of the buildings would still 

be closed when I went through, but I still wanted to take part in the scenic 

drive right through the middle of this long, north-south stretching park.

Welcome sign to an interesting recreation
area.



    If you are following along on a map you see that I came into the park 

from the south, and, as I thought, the south and center Visitor Centers were 

still closed (Park Rangers don't seem to get their days started until 9 AM), 

but the drive was a pleasant one and there was a place or two to stop along 

the way to read historical markers. I also drove by one side of the 750 acre 

restored prairie that is home to bison, elk and a few other prairie-type 

creatures. The only animal home was one bison. Everyone else must have been 

under shelter from the rain. But this one was outstanding in his field. (I've 

always wanted to use that line in print.)

No "Welcome" to this State, but that was OK. I wasn't staying
long.



    By the time I reached the other end of the park the rain had let up and 

it was just after 9 so I stopped at the north entrance Visitors' Station to 

pick up a brochure and read more about the area I'd just passed through. When 

it was time to go, EG played her little surprise for the day. Turn the key, 

nothing happens. Let's see. I have an ignition light and the gauges are 

working, but no sounds at all. Symptoms of a starter solenoid failure. Pop 

the bonnet and push the button on the solenoid (it's one of the original 

types) and still nothing. No problem. EG's on a slight slope, the parking lot 

is empty and she starts easily. With the high density of Mini owners in my 

day's destination of St. Louis, I should be able to get a replacement 

solenoid. A short roll, pop the clutch and off we go.



    In the interest of time I soon left the blue roads and jumped on I-24 and 

crossed out of Kentucky and into southern Illinois, but before I left I had 

to find a Kentucky license plate to add to the photo collection. The easiest 

way would be to find a parking lot at some freeway exit, cruise through and 

take a photo from the car. Good scheme; although, I pictured in my mind a 

MacDonald's lot or something. The first big exit I came to only had a motel 

parking lot. I got my photo but you can imagine the interest it might have 

caused if someone had noticed me cruising through a motel parking lot in the 

late morning taking license plate photos!

Hope this one doesn't get anyone in
trouble!



    As I was cruising the motel parking lot at low speed and in the warmer 

air of late morning, I noticed the EG was still up to her old tricks of 

running too hot at low revs. That was going to make stopping for food and gas 

a little more difficult. I couldn't just leave the car running. Well, no 

problem, I mistakenly thought, I'd just park on a slope and EG would start 

right up.



    Kentucky. Well, as long as I've driven through, I'll include the State's 

data just in case you're building a comparative matrix. (I did. It was quite 

informative.) Figure Kentucky at 3.9 million people, 40,411 square miles 

(rank 36) and a population density of 97 people per square mile. Of the seven 

States so far, this puts Kentucky just above South Carolina in population, 

but being 30% larger the population density is far less than any of the other 

six. Kentucky elevation? A high of 4,145 feet and low of 257 on the 

Mississippi River.



    Like Kentucky, Illinois was also going to be a cruise-through except for 

a stop for fuel and lunch. The plan was to follow I-24 to I-57 north, then 

pick up I-64 west to lead me to St. Louis. I'd received very good directions 

to our meeting place in St. Louis and even an offer to meet me outside of SL 

to guide me in, so the only challenge was going to be overcoming the starter 

solenoid and heating problem -- both only minor, as long as I kept the car 

running and moving. Oh, and have you ever been in southern Illinois. It's 

FLAT! The entire state only varies elevation from 279 feet to 1,235 feet and 

where I drove must have varied between 280 feet and maybe 281 feet. That's 

just a guess, of course.

I cheated to get this photo. It
was taken after the fact hanging on the wall 

in the basement of
Karl Strauch - more about him later.



    Let's get the Illinois facts out of the way. Add the following to your 

database. Illinois has a population of 11.9 million (about 3 million of them 

clustered within the boundaries of the Windy City, Chicago), an area of 

56,400 square miles (rank 24) and a population density of 211 people per 

square mile -- that's almost approaching Florida standards. And like Florida, 

the population is clustered in several areas with other areas being sparsely 

populated. On our current chart of eight States Illinois covers the most area 

and is second behind Florida in population and population density.



    The first challenge came as I was heading for 57 on 24. Gas was getting 

low. No problem even though I left it to the last minute, as usual. American 

freeways usually have gas stations at most exits or at least frequent enough 

to take all the challenge out of driving, even with the small single tank! 

Exit 45, I believe it was, advertised a BP station so I turned off. The usual 

"gas station this way" signs immediately disappeared and I blundered around 

various back roads looking for any sign of habitation while the fuel gauge 

buried the needle on the left. Finally, I found the BP and was glad to see 

that the forecourt was short and had a slight slope just after the pumps. 

Great. The car will be easy to restart. Hmmm. Something looks funny. Why are 

the hoses just draped over the tops of the pumps and why does the place look 

deserted? Because it is. The great State of Illinois had remembered to take 

down the gas station signs on the freeway exit but had not done anything 

about the sign on the freeway itself. OK. For the first time I resorted to 

the emergency backup. I moved the car forward onto the slope, turned it off, 

dug the gas container out of the boot and added the 2 gallons. The next 

possible stop was at least 10 miles down the road and I was pretty sure I 

wouldn't make that without the addition.

While stopped and with the boot already open I dragged out the jumper 

cables and used them to bridge the two terminals on the starter solenoid. 

Yup. That works so the solenoid is well and truly dead.



    About 10 miles further along I-57 I found a gas station and filled up. (I 

still wonder if I could have made it!) I managed to escape without loosing 

too much face. A short push and EG bump-started. Fortunately, EG is light. 

Unfortunately, when driving a Mini in the US it is kind of hard to hide from 

curious eyes. Now, on to the next challenge: finding somewhere to eat that 

has a place to park where I can get the car started easily. Did I mention 

that this part of Illinois is FLAT? After several tries I found a MacDonald's 

that had a very slight slope to a parking place where I couldn't get boxed 

in. It was slight (water would run slowly down this slope), but enough to 

start EG. With both our tanks now full, there wasn't much left but to point 

towards St. Louis, try to find something interesting to look at from the 

freeway, keep a close eye on the traffic (none of which was paying any 

attention to the speed limit) and try to ignore the heat and humidity.



    Using Streets and Trips I had a good route planned to get me to the 

meeting place in St. Louis set up by the MADMEN, so I wouldn't have to drag 

anyone out of work early to play guide into St. Louis; although, the offer 

from Brian Johnson was appreciated.



    The meeting place was to be J & W Automotive, owned by Jeff Grebe. This 

is an auto repair and tune-up shop in the general south area of St. Louis 

that handles all types of cars, like most general repair shops. The BIG 

difference is that Jeff drives a Mk I Cooper S to work every day and this 

shop can fix a Mini, too. I know this doesn't sound like much to the non-US 

readers, but it is rare to find an auto shop in the US that has ever seen a 

Mini, let alone one that can work on them. As I heard the story, when Jeff 

bought the shop it already had the name J & W, but the J fit well with his 

name. He says the W stands for Wife. She works there, too, and according to 

one source (to remain unnamed), is the brains behind the outfit! Regardless, 

I do like their motto, which goes something like, "You can take your car 

anywhere to get it worked on. You take it here to get it fixed."



    I rolled into Jeff's about 2:30 and parked next to his Mini, peeled 

myself off of the sticky seats, went in and introduced myself. It's a busy 

place so we only talked for a few minutes (I mentioned the starter solenoid 

problem) and then I tried to stay out of the way. By the way, I didn't get 

the usual Welcome photo when crossing into Missouri. Not that they didn't 

welcome me, it is just that the sign was in the middle of a busy bridge and I 

didn't think the locals would care for me stopping my car for the photo.

The "Show Me" meaning is a bit 

lost in history, but basically it means, "I'm a little doubting and I'll only 

believe you if you can show me." It has nothing to do with what teenage males 

yell from cars to teenage females on balconies during Spring Break Week in 

Fort Lauderdale.

The place to take your car in St.
Louis.

Jeff's Mark I Cooper
S.



    Long about 3:00, the first of the MADMEN (wish I could remember what that 

stands for, but it is appropriate, nevertheless) showed up. One might say he 

is the head MADMAN. Karl Strauch (as he says, rhymes with "grouch" -- which 

he isn't). Karl had, on short notice, arranged a gathering of several from 

the local club and offered me a place to stay for the night. (It's called the 

Asylum, and if you stay you'd better like cats. I counted 5 but there could 

have been more.) The timing worked out well. A day later and it wouldn't have 

worked. Karl was scheduled to leave Saturday morning at o:dark thirty to 

drive to the Mid-Ohio track to watch, as he calls it, the Minis race the 

foreign cars.



    Karl, you may remember, is the one who traveled to Alaska and back with 

his son in the Blue Goose Mini. Hearing some of the details behind the trip 

was very interesting. Anyway, he showed up wearing a Seattle Seahawks cap to 

make me feel welcome. (I didn't have the heart to tell him I've gone off 

professional, greedy sports.) I matched his hat with my "Lucas Quality 

Inspector" one, which somehow seemed appropriate considering EG's current 

state.



    Over time a few more of the group showed up. Once the shop closed, Jeff 

offered me a service bay to check out EG, to change out the starter solenoid 

(somehow in less than an hour he'd come up with a Ford part replacement that 

would work!), and to change the oil. (At this point EG had run almost 2,900 

miles since leaving Florida and was due for an oil change.) I dragged the 

tools and my coveralls out of the boot and began to work while the MADMEN 

stood around offering encouragement, advice, good conversation, and very 

little help. (That's not quite true, but it sounded good when I wrote it.) 

While the oil was draining into a pan Jeff supplied, I jacked the back of the 

car up enough to adjust the brakes. Unfortunately, the oil pan was (a) taller 

than I was used to, (b) plastic, and (c) of less capacity than I was used to. 

The very full oil pan was caught by the edge of the sump as the car was 

raised from the back and we had a mini Mini Exxon Valdez incident all over 

one of Jeff's service bays. He took it in stride (probably mumbling something 

about amateurs to himself) and all was made right with only the use of half 

the shop's supply of rags and a lot of oil-dry.



    Servicing continued. The oil was changed (without further incident), the 

starter solenoid was replaced, the brakes were adjusted up and a few loose 

screws were tightened to stop rattles that had developed during the trip. I 

also rechecked the LR wheel bearing. No change. It seemed to be holding 

steady.



    As a side note, Ryno Verster, EG's builder has been following the trip 

over the Internet and has made me feel a little better about the solenoid 

failure. Although I've known them to fail before, I thought 4,700 miles was 

far too short a time. After all, it looked brand new. As a testament to the 

Ryno's work, the solenoid wasn't new. He didn't have a proper early one with 

the rubber button so he spent a lot of time making the ORIGINAL one look 

brand new. Fooled me. Didn't fool the gods of Lucas, however, and this 

solenoid from 1968 finally quit working.



    As another aside, now that you know from whom I bought the car, take 

another look at EG's license plate. Notice anything? Answer at the end of 

this article.



    When all the fun was over (the MADMEN were getting tired of watching me 

work anyway) we rolled EG outside, gathered the motley crew together and took 

a photo. I want you to know how rare this photo is. There is some law in 

Missouri about only so many of this crew being allowed together at one time, 

and I'm sure we exceeded the limit.

Just a small selection of the MADMEN in 

St. Louis, and I mean that in every way. From right to left: Tom Thavordes 

(who showed up on a Harley), Karl Strauch, Brian Johnson (standing, holding 

EG down to help contain her excitement from all the attention she's getting), 

Jeff Grebe, Darren Stoddart, and Jake Grebe, Jeff's son. Jeff's wife is not 

pictured. She had the foresight to go home before this group gathered.



    Karl had arranged for us to get together for dinner at a local restaurant 

so most of us headed off to eat good Italian food (not something one would 

think of in St. Louis) and talk about out favorite topic. A couple couldn't 

go along. Either they had prior commitments or their medicine was wearing off 

and they had to get home before reality kicked in. Evidently, Aaron Wright 

had a recent dose because he showed up to join us at the restaurant where I 

was introduced to fried ravioli. In spite of the name it was quite good, but 

not something I'd seen in any Italian restaurant before. Karl insists St. 

Louis is famous for it. OK.



    The good conversation alleviated the small disappointment that we hadn't 

been able to recreate the scene from the video "Minis Across America" where 

Karl and a few of the faithful sat around a table at a hamburger place north 

of St. Louis (called the Chuck-A-Burger -- I told you, I don't make up these 

names) and pontificated about Minis in the US. It's a great scene and such an 

appropriate location for a get together, but logistics dictated otherwise for 

this night. Next time.



    Eventually, the get together broke up, or they threw us out, or the 

restaurant closed, or the police raided (I don't remember which), and I 

followed Karl a long ways to his house. If I'd known he lived this far out of 

St. Louis I would have asked for a head start for little 998cc EG! After 

checking in and leaving a tip for the bellhop, Karl loaned me a telephone 

connection so I could check in with people down the line. He showed me 

around, introduced me to all the cats (I think) and his wife (not necessarily 

in that order). His basement wall was where the photo of the Illinois license 

plate was taken. And then all too soon the fun was over and it was time for 

sleep -- a commodity all to rare the past few days.



    In the morning (Friday the 25th) the maps were dragged out and Karl and I 

talked about the next leg of my trip. You may remember but way back when in 

this novella I think I mentioned my plan was to start in St. Louis and follow 

the Corps of Discovery, and Lewis and Clark on their travels from St. Louis 

to the Pacific Ocean starting in 1804. They spent the winter of 1803 on the 

east side of the Mississippi and then left in May 1804 to follow the Missouri 

as far as they could, hoping it would lead to the famed/fabled Northwest 

Passage.



    I wanted to go back into Illinois to visit Camp Wood (their winter 

quarters) and start from there, but I was a long way from that spot and I 

wasn't too keen on fighting my way through morning St. Louis traffic to drive 

through East St. Louis, Illinois. I'm from Seattle, but even I know one 

doesn't go to East St. Louis unless one has a darn good reason -- like your 

commanding officer orders you to.



    Karl helped pick out a route that would follow the Missouri for a while 

and offered to drive part of the way. He had some roads he wanted me to see 

anyway. Great idea. Our first stop was a gas station where at 4,791 miles I 

filled up. That's now 2,909 miles since leaving Miami. And to put that into 

perspective for those resident in Old Blightly and not used to driving long 

distances, that's the equivalent of driving from Penzance to Inverness by the 

quickest AA-recommended route 4 times (although why anyone would want to, I 

don't know).



    Know the answer to the quiz about EG's license plate? No fair you guys I 

talked to along the route. You already know. The answer is Ryno's name and 

the car number of his fleet backwards. 400NYR*GP = RYNO, car number 04. GP 

stands for Gauteng Province, the South African province around Johannesburg 

and Pretoria. (Or, those who are concerned about the crime rate in that area 

say the GP stands for Gangster Paradise.) 01 is a Black RSP Cooper; 02 is a 

restored South African spec. 1071 Cooper S; 03 is a white Wolseley 1000 in 

the process of undergoing a complete rebuild with minor modifications; 04 you 

know about; 05 is a very nice panel van (for sale!), and there are others of 

the non-Mini variety. He also has another, unrestored, completely original 

Wolseley 1000 I'd love to get my hands on. It's for sale, but I'm already car 

rich and cash poor.



    On to follow the Missouri River.

Chuck Heleker
Article Date: Sep 12, 2000
Car Accociations: MGB,MINI,MORRIS,SPRITE