• The Fuckup Fairy squats on us!

    It started oh-so-innocently this morning when I did my daily walkaround to see what was leaking and what fell off. I discovered that a critter, probably of the feline persuasion, had knocked over a bottle of cooking oil and apparently had gnawed at the cap so much  that it leaked. As in forty-eight ounces of cooking oil leaked onto the concrete patio and _under_ out patio carpet.

    I tried hosing that off, but shortly discovered that the water heater didn’t ignite. No fire, no burp, no light, no nothing. I’ve been here before; the culprit is a heat fuze that just blows when it pleases. The purpose is to prevent a fire from continuing.

    I was sure I had a spare, but turned out I had replaced one in our trailer in 2012 and I’d used the spare to replace the fuze in this bus in 2014. So I didn’t have a spare.

    A fuze couldn’t be obtained here until after we were gone. Fortunately the water heater will work on electric providing someone remembers that  you can’t run the water heater, the fridge, the air conditioner and the oven or coffee maker all at the same time. If we’re plugged into 30A we’ll just pop the breaker but if we’re plugged into 50A we’ll probably melt the plug. That’s not good.

    So we decided that since we wouldn’t be paying for electricity again until October we could repair the water heater in a couple of months when we could again receive Amazon.

    Then it was time to make the Wally World trip. Since we’re leaving next Wednesday and we were low on food, we decided to proceed today and stock up for the week and our travel days.

    We were most of the way back to the ranch when we felt that the toad a/c wasn’t cooling and all of a sudden got a spray of coolant across the windshield. Since the temp guage never got entirely into the red we limped slowly back to the CG. Mom pointed out an enormous crack across the plastic top of the radiator. Coach-Net will tow it to town and Bushnell Tire will fix it.

    The concern is that it’ll arrive Thursday, they’re closed on Saturday and Sunday and this Monday holiday weekend. And we’re leaving on Wednesday. I’ll drag the damned thing to Montgomery in pieces if I have to.

    And the fuckup fairy is giggling.

  • Wynnhaven Spring

    We’ve been happily ensconced at Wynnhaven RVP for almost three months following our exploits at Camp Parking Lot.

    Wynnhaven is in part a mobile home park, but it’s slowly being transitioned to an RV park by attrition. Attrition means exactly what you think it does.

    It’s a great place! Except for the road noise. I can’t imagine how many people have to get across CR-48 to somewhere, but they’re gettin’. Interstate 10 is quieter. I-40 is quieter. It’s not trucks; its all tuned rice-burners, coal-haulers and motorsickles. All designed to be loud.

    After a little while it becomes the sound of the surf, as if at the beach. It just all blends into background white noise. But we like heavy locomotives, so what do we know?

    The rains started a few days ago. A tropical whizzer, they said. Fawty Days an Fawty Nights, I said. It’s still raining all over the world and I ain’t even in Georgia.

    We have a brand new tree frog on the closest oak outside the window. He’s very loudly making his presence known. It’s said that the whole point is to get laid and after several days of croaking  “Hey Ladies” he went quiet today.

    I guess he got lucky but I miss him.

  • On to Walt’s and beyond

    Cunnnins Ocala finally turned us loose at noon Thursday, about $1800 lighter, but the generator is purring like a contented fat cat and our fluids, filters and diapers have been changed. The big deal service was around $500 and while that’s high I believe a visit to the mothership every couple of years is good. For example, the tech found a loose clamp that could have led to an off hose and a dusted engine; that’s a $30,000 clamp.

    I talked with some folks in a newish Tiffen who had picked up a rock the in the idler pulley. Not only did it make a racket but it was shredding the belt. The tech succeeded in digging the rock out of the idler. How do get a rock up there?

    So we waddled over to Walt’s Brakes & More in Ocala, the guys I wish we could just carry around with us.

    In about five minutes of troubleshooting the tech said he was satisfied with his diagnosis of the toad-brake failure. When I inquired he said that he had previously (a year ago) apparently used too-small screws and the ground wires had vibrated off the frame, so that was fixed forthwith.

    The toad was what really needed the work. It’s had two replacement starters in two years to try to fix the symptom of click…click…click. It might start right up or it might click for an hour. It took a litte forceful “it ain’t the starter” but I eventually had a mind-meld with the tech who very nicely installed a starter button. Like those 1920s cars had. You turn on the ignition then press the button to start. It’s a really nice button covered with black rubber on the left dash.

    Note that the little bitch cranked right up when we left Cummins and has cranked right up first time every time since then. I think Mom put the fear’o’God into her. Whatever works.

    So after five days in Camp Parking Lot we moseyed (I don’t care if it was I-75, I moseyed) down to our CG on the Withlacoochee River. No one was there to meet us after practically demanding an arrival time but in defense I did assure the new manager that I’d  been there before and was familiar with the park. I’d defy anyone to find their lot without direction otherwise. We wandered around and found our lot, dug up the sewer connection to verify that there actually was a sewer connection, and with the entire park in attendance got into our spot without muss or fuss. The trick is our radios. At Walt’s Mom backed me up to park so close that my rear camera showed the ants running across that brick which pretty much occuped the entire frame. I was freaking out.

    Anyway, we’re at the CG on the Withlacoochee. That’s the Big Withlacoochee, as opposed to the Little Withlacoochee. Which is fairly close to Croom-a-coochee. As my friend said several years ago, “Come on over, we got plenty of coochees!”