Tales from the Road III

I try not to be a brand-centric snob. We drive a Kia, and in fact it's the 3rd Kia we've bought! We really try to embrace the philosophy that if a product or service does the job well, that's more important than the name on the label. That mindset has, in the past, extended to overnight accommodations. And while I won't argue that there's a noticeable difference between Motel 6 and the Red Lion, I'd never been in a M'6 that wasn't clean, comfortable, functional.

Until we were looking for a place to stay in Stockton, CA. (See post below, "More Yup than Hip") So we failed to follow through with our original plans to sleep in the van like hippies. Around 8:30, as we drove through Sacramento, we decided we'd logged enough time in the van for one day, and it was time to quit messing around and get a room for the night. But not wanting to needlessly spend a lot of money when we were going to literally sleep, shower and leave, we opted for the budget lodging. Found the Motel 6 right off the freeway. Paid for our room, and went on in.

Wow.

I mean, really, WOW.

From first glance, the room was more sparse than any I'd ever seen before. Not even an alarm clock. And the sheets appeared to be the original ones they opened the motel with back in 1972. Clean, but they'd been washed enough times that you could not only see through them, but read through them. They had all the silky softness of a mid-grade sandpaper. And we got to sleep in them! Well, I use the word "Sleep", but really it was more like "we got to endure them until daylight."

But the sheets weren't the only issue... oh no... A quick check of the bathroom revealed one - yes, one - towel. So Cindy called the office, and asked if we could have more. The answer was "Yes." But upon hanging up, she wondered out loud if "Yes" meant that they would bring them to us, or we would have to go get them. Good question, but not one I really felt like tackling at that time. No big deal, because a few minutes later, the phone rang and the clerk said that security would be bringing our towels. Moments after I hung up, there was a knock at our door, and the 87 year old security guard (complete with badge!) was at the door with TWO towels. SWEET!! Enough for us to each use one, and have a third one just in case. Ahh, luxury and excess, thou art Motel 6.

So we watch TV for a few minutes, and go to sleep. And the quality of the structure surrounding us really began to show itself. I didn't hear anything from the surrounding rooms, but I don't know that anybody was IN the surrounding rooms. But the exterior walls were paper thin. And I'd guess there wasn't any insulation between the layers of paper. Every noise, every footstep, every car on the freeway, sounded like it was inside the room. At least that kind of stuff eventually fades into white noise and you can sleep through it.

But the heater in the room was another story. Looking at it, it looked good! It was made by Carrier, a company that still makes quality heating and cooling systems today. It even had a digital display! Much newer and nicer than the typical low-end motel heaters, made by companies I've never heard of.

And then it turned on.

Right as I was allllllmost asleep, I heard a click, a clank, and a jet engine big enough to power a 747 spin up for takeoff. After about 45 seconds of warm air hitting me like a hurricane, it clanked, clicked and spun down to silence. (leaving the aforementioned white noise) This thing turned on and off every couple minutes. Ridiculously short cycles... And noisy enough that there was NO way I was going to sleep through it. After an hour or two of trying in vain to sleep through the racket, I finally got up to investigate... Thankfully, there were three speeds for the fan, and it was on High. So I switched it to low, and hoped for the best.

That lowered the volume enough that I was able to sleep, though badly, for a few more hours. When Tom Bodette (yep, he really does the wake up calls) called at 6am, I really doubt that I'd slept more than three hours. But wanting to get moving and put the whole ugly ordeal behind us, I forced myself up and into the shower. And if I'd thought the heater's fan was noisy, it was just baby steps compared to the wailing banshee that is the bathroom fan. No exaggeration I can do verbally or bloggally can even come close to the sound that fan made. And since it was on the same switch as the light, and Cindy was still "sleeping" (I use the term lightly), I took a shower in the dark because the sound from the fan would have ended a bad night's sleep with a horrible wake up.

An hour later, we were back on the road, thankful for a shower and sink to brush our teeth in. We were also pretty sure that we'd have slept better in the van, even with the ruts on the floor. So we placed all the value of the motel in the fact that we had clean bodies, hair and teeth. Stockton was quickly fading in the rear view mirror, and we are now much more leery of low-end lodging.