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!”