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Travel Uncategorized

Westward Ho!

You know that it is going to be bad when even the GPS unit warns you there will be High Gusty Winds.

          I knew it was windy!

          I was driving!

          How did my GPS know it was windy?

          Did it sense my erratic driving style?

Could it tell by the many Lane Departure warnings she was giving me?

          At that point, I wondered if she had a DWI Warning built into her too! ( No worries there, I do not really drink except for an occasional Strawberry Wine Cooler maybe once a month.)

          Then I passed a sign that read, “High Wind Area”

          OK, now it made sense. Someone had programmed it in. We were traveling on Interstate Route 10 through southwestern Texas headed for New Mexico and eventually Colorado. This area of Texas is about as broad and expansive as any Texan could brag about. To complicate things, that Weather Anomaly that kept us from departing on schedule reared its ugly head once more, as if bidding us a evil, final, farewell.

           But we had Bluebird Skies and Bright Sunshiny Vistas!

          And Wind.

          Lots and lots of Wind.

          So not only were we in a High Gusty Winds Warning area, but we were still in the clutches of a departing Low Pressure System, which as it leaves, gets filled with an incoming High Pressure System that packs a Pressure Gradient that will knock your socks off! (in our case I guess you could say “tires off”). And unfortunately, it hung around for a while because Hurricane Zulu, Zorba, or Zumba (Can’t remember and don’t care) was still hanging in Louisiana and environs and wouldn’t let “our” system pass through!

          This made the previous drive through the Louisiana Bayou seem like just another Sunday ride on a Bike Path. (except there are no ‘gators in the Texas Desert, just a rattler or two). Remember how that previous drive went on for thousand and thousands of miles? Well, this one went on for millions and millions of miles!

          All day long, constant, no let up, save when we pulled into a rest area for a break.  At that point we could still feel the wind rocking us back and forth like we were on the boat with Jesus and the Apostles when the storm came up.

          Everyone knows the feeling of the Passing Truck on the highway.

          As the truck approaches and  pushes that big wall of air in front of it, you can feel it coming and you need to counteract that push by steering into it. The problem is that you need to stop that countermeasure the precise moment that the Wall passes you because if you do not, you will oversteer and only cause more problems.

          All of those issues are compounded by our size.

          I’m used to that by now.

          I watch my rearview mirror for the overcoming Big Rig and as it comes alongside, I steer into it until I feel the effect lessen and then I pull back to center and then steer the other way because now, as it passes, it wants to suck us in behind it.

          Got it!

          Been there. It is now all part of the Driving Experience.

Except when in the aforementioned High Gusty Winds Warning Area.

          Now it gets dicey.

          All of my carefully calculated, tried and true, driving techniques go out the window (literally and figuratively) when every maneuver that I make gets buffeted back and forth always in the wrong direction.

          I considered taking a Xanax but decided that it would not look good on the Police Report if they did a blood test. Poor Paula was as nervous as I was but made heroic efforts not to show it. You know how it is riding Shotgun, all of the drama and none of the control (slamming your foot to the floor in an effort to grind to a halt using your invisible imaginary brake on your side of the vehicle!)

          Miss GPS and Navigator Paula found an alternative way to go that not only promised to get us off of blustery Interstate 10, but it looked like it was even shorter! Off we go onto Route 285 North towards Pecos. I felt like I was in a Western Movie just hearing the word Pecos!         All was good until another Destruction Zone.

          They were widening the road (good) but in their efforts to do so they forgot to keep even the semblance of a shoulder on the right-hand side (bad). The road is only two lanes, one each way, so there was no riding in the left lane. The big issue with the No Shoulder scenario was that IMMEDIATELY after the white stripe on the right side there was NOTHING! Except a downward slope of freshly graded, sandy-type soil that would have flipped us over if I even thought about wandering over the line. It was so close to the edge I wondered how they even painted it onto the road. We made it into Carlsbad, New Mexico which is in the next time zone so theoretically we bought ourselves an extra hour to do with what we pleased.

          Sleep?

          How about Coma.

          Except we were so used to the constant motion of being shellacked all day long that when we finally stopped for the night and pulled into Walmart of Carlsbad, we felt like we had just gotten off an all-day rollercoaster ride.

          It took a while to fall asleep.

Categories
Travel Uncategorized

Javier

          Javier is an accountant and former pharmacy owner who sells cars in College Station, Texas. He was the person who picked up the phone when I called the Kia dealership and asked for the Sales Department.

          A relationship began.

          It turned into friendship that spanned all of six days.

          And possibly a lifetime.

          Probably not, but maybe. That is the nature of Javier. Sincere, friendly, honest, and just an all-around good guy that I know that I could call anytime in the future and he would remember us.

          All for the need of two new front tires. On a used car.

          This serendipitous acquaintance began because we needed to find a car to tow behind the motorhome. They are called “dinghies” after the small boats that are used by yachts to get back and forth from the anchorage to the dock. Using the motorhome to get from a Campground to the local store to buy vittles is a bit complicated when you must unhook all of your utilities and ready the unit for the road. There are also times when you really do not want to try and drive the beast into one of the already crowded National Parks. Better to stay on the fringe and just drive the car in. Our first choice was to be a Jeep Wrangler (the most popular car for this purpose) but after seeing what they were going for used (which had me wondering what they could possibly sell for new!) we decided to look for the second favorite vehicle to use as a tow-behind and that is a Honda CRV.

          You see, not every vehicle made can be towed “Four Down”, that is, with all four wheels on the road as opposed to using a dolly (two wheels up on a trailer) or a regular trailer that you would drive the whole car up and on to. It seems that not all drivetrains are set up to be towed “four down”, hence the extra needed research and subsequent acquisition.

          We needed to tow an enclosed trailer out West for several reasons. We still had “stuff” that we did not want to part with yet, we had items to deliver to Danny, et al, in Texas, and the same for Lorelyn in Colorado. It was decided that the trailer would live in Colorado mostly for practical reasons, the most important being Relative Humidity.

          Durango’s relative humidity is crazy low, that’s good

          Houston’s relative humidity is crazy high, that’s bad.

          When the majority of the items are disgorged and finally at their final destinations the remainder of the contents will be my Very Large Remainder of My Book/Library Collection and my Almost Complete Back to the Beginning National Geographic Collection.

          Hence the choice of storage location.

          Which means that we cannot hook up a dinghy until we make a return trip to Texas where the Honda awaits.

          Back to Javier the Anomaly.

          “Car Salesman.”  That says it all. We have all had our experiences with these evil persons. I come from a sales background and I NEVER understood why one need to do battle with car dealerships every time you needed to purchase a vehicle. There had to be a better way.

          There is and his name is Javier.

          After I spoke to him, he promised to go out on the lot and verify that they still had it in inventory (there are several connected dealerships), take some pics and text then to me. A half hour later, several photos came my way with the following message:

          “Here you have the pictures Donald, it’s in very good shape and drives perfectly fine. If you have any more questions, please let me know my friend.

Best regards and hope you have a blessed rest of your day.

Javier

Sterling Kia

          “My friend”?

          “Blessed rest of your day”?

 Are these what we usually hear from these salespeople?                               I think not.

          The vehicle was what we were looking for and being the closest one to us at 30 miles away, we decided to give it a go before we made the trip  in the other direction to see the rest of the possibilities. These other prospects were approximately 60 miles away.

          Off we go to College Station, Home of the Aggies and the George H.W. Bush Presidential Library.

          Being wary and initially distrustful, we entered the showroom to find that Javier was out with another customer but had left the keys on his desk and had informed his compatriots that we may be dropping by. The new guy got the car, brought it around and gave us the keys and said, “See ya later.” Off we went. Scarily the car was really nice. It had !00,000 miles on it but showed like it was brandy new (almost).

          We parked halfway through our test drive and discussed it.

          Condition: Good (almost too good)

          Price: Fair

          Year: Perfect, the recommended models for towing were from                           2012 to 2014. This one was a 2012. 

          Hoping against hope we asked ourselves if this could be true. Why would we waste more time and head south when this baby seems to fit the bill?                                                                                                                          So we decided to give it a go.

          Back to the lot where we finally met Javier. He was as genuinely nice as he was on our phone conversation and in texting.

We offered him $1000 less than what they were asking and said that it needed two new front tires. He looked at them and readily agreed.

Then came the song and dance routine that we are all used to. “I’ll bring your offer to my Sales Manager and see what he says and I’m going to take a photo of the tires so that I can show him.”  

          To our surprise the Manager agreed but we needed to go to one of their adjoining dealerships to get the tires. Javier went back and forth between 3 dealerships trying to get the tires for us. It seemed that they did not have that exact size in stock and would need to order them. We finished up the paperwork and were told that the tires should be in on Friday, two days hence , so we would need to come back and get them installed. No problem, Paula had a haircut booked in a few days so we could do it then.

          This is where I started to admire Javier. As most salespeople, he works on some sort of commission basis. As he ran from dealership to dealership trying to procure these two new front tires for us there was no way for him to spend any time with any other customers or be by his phone to talk to prospects.  And it was for a used car. This was not some high-priced new baby that he was selling to us. It only cost a couple of grand, not much room for profit margins, especially after coming down on the already fair price and throwing in two new front tires.                                                                                                                              We finally pulled out of the lot and drove home trying to figure out all the do-dads that were in our new ride. We drove it for the next two days as we waited for the signal that the tires had, indeed, arrived.

On Friday I received the following message:

          Donald my friend! We got your tires, let me know what day will be better for you next week and I’ll take care of everything my friend.

Hope you and Paula have a great weekend!

Best Regards

Javier                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

          After spending an inordinate amount of time on Wednesday with Javier (my new best friend) this message, as nice as it was, came as no surprise. We made arrangements for Monday.

          Paula had an appointment at the hair-doozers at 11 so I dropped her off and went to the dealership. I waited for Javier who was out on a test drive with another customer. When he came back, he immediately took the car and brought it up to the other shop where the tires were. By this time Paula had called me to say that the girl who was supposed to cut her hair was out sick, so they needed to re-schedule. I told her that I would call when the car was done and to just go “walk around”.

          Javier came back and said that it would be “done by 2”.

          That’s a problem

          It’s only 11:30 and Paula is not getting her hair cut.

Javier’s solution:

“Let’s go get Paula and have lunch”

          As we drove to get Paula, I had the opportunity to get to know Javier a little better. Born in Venezuela, he is an Accountant by trade. He and his brother had a small pharmacy in Venezuela, and they did just fine with it. They were good to the community and when they started helping out the local youths, well, let’s just say that it “got in the way” of what the local authorities liked and so they were made to feel so uncomfortable that they just left. He spent a few years in Chile and then arrived in the United States  about 15  months ago, landing in College Station. Javier had been here years ago to visit his uncle who was a professor at Texas A&M. So naturally, this is where he headed this time.  His wife found a job as a teacher and he has two cute little daughters.

          During lunch I brought Paula up to speed about what I had learned about Javier so that she could join in the conversation. Phones came out, pictures of kids, et al, were shown and we had a wonderful time sitting on the patio “catching up” with a friend who we just met.

          Back to the dealership we went and when we arrived the car had been finished and it was time to say good-bye.

          Handshakes and hugs all around finished our session for the day.

          In our conversations I had the chance to talk about sales and the like. It turns out that Javier’s boss thinks he’s “too friendly” and told him that he was going to miss him whenever he left.

          Javier has been employed there for 15 months.

          Javier has been the top selling associate for the last 14.

          Too friendly, I think not. New tires and being dealt with civilly, I think so.                                            

Categories
Travel

Rolling Snowballs Instead of Wheels

You would think that being close to Houston, Texas would somewhat, almost, guarantee some good weather at this time of year. You know, mild temps, highs in the 70’s or 80,s, lows at night maybe in the 50’s. Nope. Just when we get here, the temps shoot up into the 90’s and now that we are ready to embark on our second leg and head for Colorado, guess what happens?

          Winter.

          We heard the forecast and decided that it did not pose any issues because we would just head south and then take Interstate 10 West in an attempt to avoid the slick stuff.

          Nope.

          Who would have guessed that as far south as the Rio Grande River and as far west as El Paso would have winter weather advisories posted?

          Not for long mind you,

          Just for the exact day that we had planned on leaving. There are 364 other days in the year that Mother Nature could have chosen to be finicky. Take those odds to Vegas and you’ll be a gazillionaire.

          Tomorrow will be another day.

Categories
Travel

Goin’ Down the Bayou

          I consider myself a fairly accomplished driver. I’ve been driving since 1972 and when I worked for Ritter Food and Sysco, I would routinely drive 1000 miles a week because of the size of my selling territory. Route 80 in rush hour and the screamingly busy New Jersey Turnpike were just another walk in the park to me. I have even driven a NASCAR race car at Pocono Speedway.

                A few days ago, (our second full day on the road) I experienced what was probably the worst and most stressful 45 minutes of driving in my life.

          Some sicko in the Louisiana DOT designed a highway that runs from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Lafayette, Louisiana. It is Interstate Route 10. Running basically in a straight line following an almost perfect East / West tangent, it is elevated on a windy bridge above a giant swamp just high enough that you know that there would be no survivors if some idiot caused you to careen over the side.

          It ran for THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of miles.

          With itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny  guardrails.

          And alligators underneath.

          I KNOW this is true because I’ve watched Swamp People.

          It’s two lanes wide and I needed to be in the right lane of what felt like it was being on the Jungle Cruise at Disney World except there was no humorous Guide to shoot the ‘gators and hippos as they charged the boat.

          When we finally hit dry land I thought, Phew! That’s over with!

          Nope.

          Another 14-mile Destruction Zone that had me feeling as if I was driving on the streets of Monte Carlo in the Grand Prix.

          Except their course is much wider and has easier turns than the road we were on.

          All of this in a 40’ motorhome dragging a 15’ trailer behind it.

Driving a vehicle this size in windy conditions, is like carrying a piece of plywood out to your car at Home Depot.

          In a hurricane.

          With only you holding on to the plywood.

          The term White Knuckle Driving was invented for situations like this. When it was over, I looked down at my hands and found out that there were, in fact, no knuckles left on my fingers.

           They were permanently imbedded in the steering wheel.

Categories
Intro

The Co-Pilot

          By now you’ve learned that I have this affinity for comparing the driving of the motorhome that of flying an airplane.

          What would flying be if not for the intrepid efforts of the Co-Pilot?

          I write this with all seriousness because the Co-Pilot is that extra set of eyes that quite often keeps things safe. The biggest thing I have needed to get used to was actually having a Co-Pilot.

          That is, as compared to a “Back-Seat Driver”

          When one has a “Back-Seat Driver” your inner voice wants to scream out (and sometimes it actually verbalizes, usually with dire consequences)

          “Hey!”

          “Just sit there please!”   

          “I know what I’m doing!”

           “I’ve been driving for 750 years!”

          A Co-Pilot in reality, assists the Pilot with all things pertaining to the Flight Deck and will occasionally get up and get said Pilot some Refreshments and Snacks.

          Paula was my Back-Seat Driver and is now my Co-Pilot. She takes her job seriously and has more than once saved our sorry asses from disaster. I am not kidding.

          Paula oversees our Pre-Flight Checklist which she laminated and has inserted in our 3-ring Motorhome Binder. After we run around doing all that needs to be accomplished before take-off and are seated, Paula brings the Checklist out and we verify that all has been completed before proceeding.

          Aside from the obvious task of helping me keep eyes on the road, there is the important job of also being the Navigation Officer. Paula can read a map as good as any seasoned road-warrior and has taken to second-guessing our intrepid GPS unit.

          “Why is she taking us this way?

          “This road looks much shorter”!

           Similar observations and comments abound.  One of her favorite things to do is suggest a different route and then watch the ETA on the GPS to see if when it “Re-Routes” the ETA, in fact, decreases.

          Ha! Success!

          There are several other duties, one of which is to pinpoint services along the way. We try to drive for about two hours or so and then find a place to pull over and take bit of a break. Pee-Pee, snack, stretch legs, etc. This all needs to be done in a safe environment and unfortunately, we do not fit everywhere. Paula has become adept at coordinating Google Maps with the Atlas and the GPS and guides us to smooth landing for breaktime. This scenario gets more complicated when we are ready to stop for the night. State “Welcome Centers” have become our areas of choice as they have better everything; parking, vending, lighting, and security are some of their amenities. Calculating where these are in relation to our present position and time of day has become routine for her.

          Another one of her duties is very similar to that of the Co-Pilot on an airliner. When the plane is lined up on the runway and starts to accelerate, the Co-Pilot calls out the groundspeed to the Pilot until it reaches the point where the Pilot can “rotate” , that is, pull back on the control arm and lift the plane off of the ground. This allows the Pilot to concentrate solely on what is in front of them and not worry about the gauges.

          Enter Paula.

          When pulling out onto a freeway, there are lots of things that need to be looked out for, all of them obvious, its just that it’s all compounded by our size, weight, and relative slower speed.

          Watching ahead for slowing traffic  and my two big rearview mirrors for overtaking big rigs, et al, is a fulltime task. Getting us to the point where I can realistically engage the Cruise Control is our goal. I do not like putting it on until we hit 60 MPH.

          Paula watches the GPS unit, which displays our groundspeed with uncanny accuracy……..  She calls out the numbers as we accelerate.

40, 45, 50, 55, ……60!

          At that point I engage the Cruise Control, which for a reason that escapes me, takes over and does a better job of accelerating us up to our desired speed by using the “Accel” button. We are now at our final cruising altitude and anticipating a smooth flight and on-time arrival.

          We will NOT be putting our seats back, watching a movie, or taking a nap!

Categories
Intro

“What You Don’t Know Is..”

                In my opening “State of the Motorhome” address I used the term “Wheels-Up” to signify our final departure on the outbound leg of our trip. I took flying lessons long ago and even though I do not have a license, I do know how to fly. My partner, Steve, is a pilot. He could be, with no exaggeration, one of the most versatile and accomplished pilots on the planet. Every now and then, he asks if I would like to go flying and you know what my answer always is.

          Actually, I harbor this sick, stupid, secret, desire.

          Here’s the scenario.

          I am on an airliner bound for somewhere when the Cabin Steward comes on the microphone and asks in a somewhat frantic voice,

           “Is there a pilot aboard?”

           It seems that the pilot and co-pilot had the same thing to eat before departure and are now down for the count. My arm flies into the air as I jump up from my seat.

          “I’ve got this!” I yell out in a very confident voice (in an attempt to calm the now obviously upset passengers).

          I stride forward and enter the flight deck and take my position in the left seat. One of the other pilots, I assume it is the First Officer because he has three stripes on his uniform, is in better shape than the Captain so he tries his best to give me pointers. He puts me in touch with Air Traffic Control who then gets an experienced pilot on the comm with me.

          ATC – “What is your flying experience sir”?

          Me – “I flew Phantoms in ’68  off of the Saratoga in ‘Nam”.

          ATC – “Impressive”!

          ME – “Only kidding, I was in 8th grade in 1968 but I soloed in a        Cherokee 140 and I’ve flown an Aircoupe, Cessna 206 and 310, Falcon 900, and believe it or not, a 727 with Steve Forbes in the back. Oh, and my kids got me an hour in an AT-6 Warbird. That was a hoot”!

          ATC – “Ok sir, at least you know what the controls do”!

          Me – “I promise that I won’t press random buttons or throw                     unknown switches”!

          ATC – “ Agreed sir, what is your air speed?”

          Me – “450 knots”

          ATC – “Roger, start to throttle back and descend to 25,000”

          Me – “Roger ATC, please let me know the stall speed of this baby, the flap setting for landing and help keep me on the glide path on our final approach. I’d rather not try to do any downwind and crosswind legs please. Let’s try for a straight in final”.

         ATC – “Roger that”!

          45 minutes later the airliner touches down with the usual bump and a bunch more (Hey! I’m not THAT good!). Then we coast to the end of the runway where we are met by someone with a lot more experience than me to safely taxi over to the terminal.

          The End.

          By now you are probably saying to yourself,

          “Why in the name of all that is Holy is he telling us this story”?

          It is because the pre-flight (or drive) checklist and the actual driving of this coach are more like flying than anything else I’ve done.

          Here’s what is the same about driving the motorhome as is driving your car.

          Four wheels and a road.

          That’s it.

          And I have six wheels.

          The concentration and constant monitoring of gauges and position on the road and traffic conditions well ahead is exhausting. At least in any plane of significant size there is an autopilot, which helps a bit.

          I have “Cruise Control”.

          Which, make no mistake, is a godsend because the throttle pedal on one of these diesel pushers is not easy to keep depressed for any length of time.

          Let’s do my pre-flight walk-around.

  • Tire air pressure check (six tires)
  • Oil level
  • Coolant level
  • Cargo hatches secured
  • Electric lines disconnected
  • Water line disconnected
  •  Sewer line disconnected
  • Awnings in
  • Slides in
  • Car towing hitch inspected
  • Car tire pressures checked

Now let’s climb aboard and start the interior pre-flight checklists (2)

  • Start the engine
  • Gauges
    •      Air pressure, both tanks for brakes
    •      Oil pressure
    •      DEF fluid
    •      Fuel
    •      Guidance system (GPS) This is programmed with our height, weight, and length to warn of upcoming low clearances, small bridges, or sharp turns. When was the last time you needed to worry about those in your car?

Now for the second list:

  • Water pump off
  • Appliances secured; refrigerator door latched
  • Drawers and cabinets latched
  • File drawers bungeed
  • Countertops cleared
  • Roof vents closed

When all of these items are verified that they road-worthy it is time to start driving.

          Pulling out is always more challenging than in a car. Even if I am making a right turn out of a driveway, I use multiple lanes with my turn radius. Believe it or not, the acceleration is not too bad considering her bulk. I do not know what the top speed is, and I really don’t want to find out. It is probably in the 90 MPH range. The fastest I have driven is about 73 MPH and I gauge my cruise speed by two criteria, the legal speed limit and what my fellow drivers are doing. Generally, I am most comfortable about 5 MPH below the speed limit and in the center or right lane.

          In the old days, when I was a classic Jersey Driver, I would block like Dale Earnhardt Sr. in the Daytona 500 before I would let you pass me.

Now I don’t care if Granny in her ‘62 Rambler passes me.

          What a difference.

          I am sure that you have seen those yellow “recommended” speed limit signs before entering a curve. When was the last time that you actually did that speed?

          I do it ALL the time, because if I don’t, only a catastrophe awaits me on the other side of the curve.

          Stopping is the bane of my existence.

          Air brakes are good, but remember those lessons in Physics about speed and inertia?

          Do you have any idea how much inertia is behind a 28,000-pound vehicle traveling at 65 MPH?

          I don’t know either but I do know that there are times that (when I let my concentration lapse for maybe a nano-second) that I need to STAND on said brakes and hope that I stop in time and not have a refrigerator come crashing forward and bury me in cold-cuts.

          If that happens, I hope that there is a good liverwurst in there with some classic German mustard.

Categories
Intro

Just the Facts Please

          Someone once said (or wrote) that there is a book inside every one of us just waiting to be written. Books and reading  are passions of mine, hence my well-known Library, which, if you have known me for more than a nanosecond, I’ve probably bored you to tears with photos and descriptions. 

          As for the books…….. I’ve written some fun stuff with my grandkids as the main characters. I think they are fairly good, others that have read them liked them also. The fact that only my relatives and close friends have read them leads me to wonder if they are just being nice to me and do not want to hurt my feelings.

          So on to this BLOG thing. There is SO much already out there. My feelings are somewhat mixed about them, similar to my feelings about Face Book. Is everyone so vain that they think that the world needs (or even wants) to know every little thing that goes on in their (or my) puny little lives?

           Are we THAT important?

           To some of us, (us being the collective for Humanity) depending on how narcissistic one is, the answer would be yes. And those attitudes come shining through as soon as one starts to read them. I hope that I am not included in that group of humans. I don’t do Face Book, I rarely post on Instagram (and that is usually confined to a pretty picture) but I’m fairly sure that narcissistic folks are not aware of their annoying disease, so, who knows, maybe I’m one of THOSE.

          I hope not.

          My thoughts about me writing a BLOG started when Paula and I decided to try out full time RV’ing. I did not know anyone who has done it and the thought of keeping family and friends apprised of our where-abouts and well-being got me thinking about this process.

          So……

          If you are reading this, you need to know that we both have our respective jobs.

          Mine is to write.

          Yours is to read what I write.

          But within your job description, there is a sub-category and that is to slap me around if this becomes anything more that my attempt to do a modern version of a “Letter to Home”.

          So now that we’ve got that straight, let’s get on with what the name of this blog will be known as,

 Drum roll please…….

My Unsure Chapters Having A Description On All Bits Of Uninteresting Tales Not Overly Telling Happy Insights Now Germaine.”

Or for short,

Much Ado About Nothing-dp.com

          Now, to borrow a line from everyone’s favorite movie and which we may have more in common than I would care to think……. Glinda in the “Wizard of Oz” told Dorothy, “It’s best to start at the beginning.” 

So here goes!

          “It was a dark and stormy night, “

Oops! Wrong beginning!

          Actually, I have No idea what the weather was like when we finally decided on this course. Conversations of where we would like to go centered around where our respective families were located. Texas, Southern Colorado, New Jersey, Vermont, Massachusetts, Maine, and the annual migration to Florida were all in the mix.  

          Really wanting to get away from the Northeast Winters, Colorado, Texas, and Florida became the likely landing spots for most parts of the year.   

          Paula fell in love with the West after just one visit to Colorado and the Four Corners Region. Paula can tell you the weather in each one of our respective relatives’ areas at any time. So it was not uncommon to find her staring at Durango’s weather which ALWAYS (always being a relative term) showed the Bright Sun and the Clear Moon icons in her weather app.

          She would then look up from her phone with that longing I-need-to-be-there look on her face.

          But…..

          Texas winters are a lot milder…..

          Hmm….

          Two places?

          Two houses, apartments, condos?

          How about a permanent residence somewhere and a motorhome for the other? That would help with the fact that we do have family in other parts of the nation. Now the wheels (figuratively) started to turn. The real wheels didn’t arrive for some time yet. The debate over Texas vs. Colorado heightened in intensity with no clear-cut winner.

          Colorado, et al, is usually gorgeous. Winters can get cold at times in the high desert of the Four Corners Region, but that usually only lasts for a few days.

          Texas has some gorgeous times also, but you must be able to put up with a fair amount of inclement (?) weather of Biblical Proportions that maybe only Moses with his Ten Plagues could appreciate.

          Colorado is “expensive”.

          Texas is “cheap”.

          Both are “Open Carry” states,  so my old wish to be a cowboy and saunter down dusty Main Street with my spurs a jinglin’, my ten-gallon hat pulled low on my brow, my Colt six-shooter on my hip, and the tumbleweeds blowing past Hoss’s Livery as I walk into Miss Kitty’s Saloon for a chocolate milk could be a reality in either one!

           What a dilemma!

          The more we researched the possible RV/Motorhome scenario, the more we ran across statements from Full-Timers like, “Our only regret is that we didn’t do this sooner” and “We visit everyone we want at any time we want”. These comments were not just from a few folks, they seem to be rather universal with respect to those types that have a desire not to be in just one place. So it was off to Amazon and ordering books like “How to Live In A Motorhome Full-Time”. These tomes of information were filled with all the do’s and (especially) don’ts of being “Full-Timers”.

          The first decision one needs to make (after deciding if you really want to do this or not) is where to be “Virtually Registered”. One needs to have a home state for all of the obvious reasons.

          Vehicle registration and driver’s license

Voting

          Taxes (boo)

          Mail, etc.

          There are three preferred states that always pop up when this subject presents itself and they are Florida (it’s OK), South Dakota (no one wants to be there), and Texas (brakes screeching to a halt).

          TEXAS !!! Hey, we actually know someone (Paula’s son Danny) who lives there so that gives us the best of both worlds! No need for a “virtual address” that some service supplies us with, we have an actual building, real mailbox, and throw that package on the front porch address!

          As this scenario progressed it seemed more and more likely that it presented itself as a viable (and fun) solution.

          Can we do this forever?

          Probably not.

          Can we do this for at least 5 years and possibly more?

          Probably yes.

          The process of learning about motorhomes is a daunting one. There are hundreds to choose from and everyone has an opinion with respect to what they like when it comes to make, model, type, and amenities.

Back to the books!

          Lots of folks do full-timing in all types of RV’s, Class A,B,C, 5th wheels, pull-behinds, etc. are all in the mix. The favorites for full-time are the A’s and C’s. A’s are the ones that look like busses and C’s are the ones that are more traditional looking set-ups. Class A’s are the ones that we settled on so that left the decision with two ways to go. Diesel or Gas.

          Gas has the motor up front and is based, more or less, on a specialized truck chassis.

          Diesels have the motors in the rear and are more like a bus chassis than anything else.

          The more research we did, the more it seemed that the diesel pushers were the most recommended and most frequently used for full-time. They are significantly more heavy duty, with massive chassis and tons of storage underneath, the “Basement” as it were.

          Only one issue….

          Diesels are probably DOUBLE the price of gas units for the respective size and features. But as the old saying goes, “You get what you pay for.” Don’t get me wrong, Gas ones can be awesome units and Diesels can be pieces of junk, but with the right research and weeding out the differences, made the decision a little more clear-cut. This is where I found out an interesting fact about my Co-Captain, Paula. Paula is definitely the “thriftier” of the two of us. She revels in the act of the weekly “Shop Rite Circular Coupon Cutting Ceremony” and proudly shows me the results of her labor when she brings home the receipt from the store showing the “Savings” on the bottom.

          Back to gas vs diesel. There are plenty of choices out there that one can get for $20,000 or so. They are older, some in better condition than others, but perfectly good and safe to drive around. A HOUSE for $20,000!

          That was my starting point.

          After checking out RV Trader.com, it looked like we would realistically need to spend a little more than that, so I kind of doubled the cost of what I was looking at. Originally I was more comfortable with a gas engine, having worked on many over the years. I had zero experience with diesel and was therefore a tad reluctant to venture into that arena. So in the beginning I only looked at the gas ones.

          Enter Paula.

          Now I’m quoting here.

          “I don’t want anything over 10 years old.”

          Ok, so now we’ve definitely narrowed the field. (And definitely upped the cost) We looked a few gas units and Paula was un-impressed with storage and noise level. In the meantime, I did a little more research on the diesel pushers and found out a little more about the benefits of them over the gas units.

          I said to Paula, “I think we’re going to spend a lot more than we thought.” Paula agreed and with us both comparing the pros and cons of the respective choices, we started leaning and then totally going for the diesel pushers. Mind you, there are some nice ones out there for $50,000 to $80,000, but they are “older” ones. We drove one in Vermont, a Tiffen, which is top of the line, like a Mercedes or Lexus. It was the first one we looked at. The owner, Chuck, had kept detailed information on all the services that he had performed on her from the beginning. This definitely gave us a comfortable feeling that she had been maintained and cared for over the years. But it was these “years” (and the fact that Paula was completely un-enamored with her) that were her undoing. I was ready to say “Yes”, it was Paula who put the brakes on.

          Air brakes in this case.

          It seems that the diesels use an “air brake” system similar to the big rig tractor trailers. Believe it or not, you do not need a special license or need training to drive one of these babies. A regular license  is all that you need. A kid of 17 who just got his license or my 87 year old grandmother (God rest her soul) can climb behind the wheel of these behemoths and drive away.

          Crazy isn’t it?

          Dean, my brother, who drives busses part-time, and who has to jump through hoops to get and keep his Commercial Drivers License, was kind of, shall we say, “pissed off” when he found this out.

          Oh well.

          We left Vermont with a really good “first look at buying” experience. Chuck could not have been nicer or more forthcoming if he tried. He told us that we could call him in the future with any questions about motorhomes even if we did not buy his.  Nice guy.

          Now we were into the Procurement Stage hot and heavy. The next weekend we drove to West Virginia to see what was going to become the make and model of what we would eventually end up with, a 2014 Winnebago Forza. This guy, Chris, was as nice as Chuck, had good records and was as forthcoming.

          But he also had 5 kids.

          And it showed.

          In reality, considering the kids fact, the unit was not in bad shape at all, just not in the shape we wanted it to be in.

          Back home to Jersey.

          Press the Repeat Button for the next weekend except we drove further and went to North Carolina. In retrospect, we should have gone from West Virginia to North Carolina that same weekend as we knew that this motorhome  was also on our very heavily, easy to do,  researched Prosect List (thanks to RV Trader.com!)

          When we arrived at our destination, just north of Charlotte, we spied our (but we didn’t know it yet) baby sitting comfortably on the road in front of Doug and Vicky’s house. Doug greeted us as warmly as only a person with a Southern Hospitality type personality (and have a motorhome that one is trying to sell) could. No, really, they were genuinely nice, all salesmanship aside.

          We gave her the “once over” before driving down to a local church parking lot to open everything up and really dive in.

          She only had 15,000 miles on her in 6 years.

          Why so little?

          Was there something “not right” that kept the previous two (including Doug) owners from driving her?

          All these and many more questions were asked and answered to our satisfaction. It seems that the first owner would basically drive to Myrtle Beach for the summer, park her in a campground, and drive back home at the end of the season. Doug and Vicky would pretty much do the same except they did not leave her for the season.

          Hence the milage.

          Doug had records of most of the maintenance that he had done and after listening to how he handled periodic maintenance and the like, it was easy to see that she was properly taken care of for the past 6 years.  And, with only 15,000 miles on the odometer, there was little need for much in that department. Especially since it never left North Carolina, hence never having experienced a real Winter. I crawled underneath to confirm this. Not a speck of rust or sign of anything like you would expect from a Northern coach.

          That’s what the proper name is for these diesel pushers.

          A Coach.

          Sounds kinda nice doesn’t it?

          Not RV.

          Not camper.

          Not motorhome.

          “Coach”.

          It is all of the aforementioned titles also, but only these babies come with the title “Coach”.

          That’s not all they come with.

          They also come with the previously mentioned price tag. We were now at the uppermost limit of our price range but once you ride and drive one of these it’s hard to go backwards.

          But we did.

          Just to be sure.

          In between the West Virginia and North Carolina trips we went to a local dealer that we had gone to before but didn’t have the chance to test drive a Class A gas unit. So we hopped into a brand-spankin’ new Forest River Georgetown. The feel, noise level, (because the engine is up front) and all-important storage space, were not even close to a “Coach.”

          Now we felt confident enough that a pusher was what we felt most comfortable in and comfortable with parting with the additional shekels.

          We left the church parking lot with me at the helm. This was only the second time that I had been behind the wheel of one of these, the first time was two weeks prior in Vermont. Driving a large rig like this has ALWAYS been a wish of mine. Ralph Cramden aside, I have secretly harbored the desire to be a Bus Driver. I think that I drove rather well, Doug thought so also, at least he told me that. Remember, he wanted to sell it to me. But I didn’t detect too much cringing from the Co-Pilots seat when we were out on the test drive.

          Back to the house we go, it is now Negotiation Time and they were asking a bit more than what we wanted to pay. Paula and I stayed outside to discuss the obvious while Doug and Vicky went inside to get “refreshments”. We decided that this was exactly what we were looking for and knowing what was currently on the market and their relative pros and cons, especially with mileage factored in, we knew that this was fairly priced, even at full ticket (and little doggie pin-pricks) The only negative we found was some of the upholstery had worn prematurely. They had one of those little yappy-type dogs with claws instead of paws. We also knew that we had started this process at the beginning of the dreaded “Great American Covid-19 We Can’t Go On The Cruise Vacation So Why Don’t We Buy An RV And Go Wherever We Want Buying Spree.” This anomaly has been documented all year now, so we were fortunate to be in on it in the early stages where the upward pressure on price had not yet been felt.

Back to the house

          It took about six seconds.

          “Would you like a Coke or something?”

          “No Thanks, we’re good”

          “Will you take $XXX,XXX?

          “No, how about $XXX,XXX”

          “Sold”

          Handshake.

          Hand sanitizer.

          We gave him $5000.00 as a good-will deposit, which he did not even ask for. He took it and true to his word, he did not deposit it until the day the sale was complete about 2 weeks later.

          Apparently one of the hard and fast opinions of buying a used motorhome is to walk away from a deal where the present owner does not possess the title. This means that they need to pay it off before they can sell it.

          With your money.

          I wasn’t born yesterday, actually I was born in 1954 which just makes me old, but maybe a little wary also. The idea of me sending Doug the $$$ so that he could pay off the loan and send me the title was just a little scary. Based on his past and soon to be future dealings with us, this scenario would probably have worked.

          But.

          Better safe than out a ton of $$$ and nothing to show for it.

          So I asked for and received the name and contact info for his “gal” at the bank. She and I became best friends. We wired her the money, she applied what was needed to satisfy the loan, gave the rest to Doug and then overnighted us that title, all signed off, properly stamped and sealed  with all of the pomp and circumstance that a Notary in North Carolina could muster.

          She was ours!

          But we didn’t have her. She was still in North Carolina and we         were in New Jersey.

          After many calls back and forth, trying to work out all of our respective schedules, we finally landed (figuratively and literally) on July 4th in Charlotte where Doug picked us up and brought us back to his place.

          This was smack in the middle of Covid Scary Flying.

          Which was actually OK. We purchased our one-way tickets for $39.00 each and went to the absolutely deserted airport (except for the at least 25 extra TSA employees standing around because there was NO ONE to check in.)

          After a quick tutorial on the specific systems of this particular motorhome, we were given the keys and away we went with promises to send Doug and Vicky photos of her on our Journey. Getting out of the Charlotte area was a bit tricky. Watching out for low clearances and the like were just a few of the items to be aware of. We now have a specialized GPS that handles that for us (more on that in an upcoming episode.) We spent the night at a T/A truck stop in northern Virginia. We pulled around back and found a slot with all the big boys. It was a pothole filled parking area that was impossible to “level” in, therefore there would be no “slides out” that night! And it was HOT so to keep the AC on we needed to run the generator all night. It provided a kind of “white noise” to fall asleep to.

          We finished the trip the next day and pulled into our driveway and backed her right up and into her berth next to the garage. First try! Now back to the real world and trying to put all the pieces for the future into place. Work needed to be done around the house to ready it for sale and we wanted to do some re-decorating and the like in the motorhome to make it not just “updated” but “ours” also.

          Both projects proceeded nicely and soon we found ourselves “houseless” but definitely not “homeless” because (and this is still hard to get used to) our “home” is with us 24/7/ and hopefully 365! It is really weird sitting in our motorhome and realizing that we are, in fact, HOME. All of our possessions, except for a few things still in the trailer, are with us. The downsizing process was both traumatic and cathartic at the same time. Having “things” and lots of “stuff” is wonderful if you have a Collector type personality like I do. Paula is just the opposite, but even with that, having lived in her home for 34 years meant that there was still a sizeable amount of possessions that needed to be dealt with when it came to the sorting process. The decision of which one to save, give away, sell, or just throw out is daunting. The task becomes easier when one finds out that NO ONE wants anything and for the most part it’s not worth anything! But it all still needs to be handled, one object at a time.

          This is the sticky part.

           Remember when your Mom ordered you to “Go clean up your room and do under your bed too!” ? You would slowly climb the stairs to your room grumbling all the way and then grudgingly  and reluctantly start the process.

          Until you found a gem!

          “Hey! I remember this (book, photo, paper, stuffed animal, etc.)” and then any progress that you were making came grinding to a halt as you sat and read, looked, and/or played with the offending object until the Commanding Officer yelled upstairs “You don’t have all day! Get a move on!”

          Now think about this task when it involves an entire house. It becomes one of catastrophic proportions. But after exhaustive trips to the dump and the local Hospital Auxiliary Thrift Store, we eventually emptied our lives of all that, in  reality, was not really that important. Obviously, many a lesson was learned here. Maybe a subject for a future post?

          We’ll see.

          In the meantime, we still had a few loose ends to tie up before leaving the Garden State, but we just got rid of our base of operations and needed a place to park Biggie for a spell. John and Dianne in Lafayette offered their second driveway as a temporary home. It was a great spot, and they could not have been more hospitable if they tried.       The fun part was watching the two of them march out into the middle of Route 15 with their arms up stopping traffic in both directions so that I could back across the highway from the firehouse and nestle in our berth. It was a sight. Our other temporary home (because we didn’t want to wear out any welcomes) was in the rear parking lot of Yetter’s Diner. Our usual morning Breakfast Buddies of Tommy, the owner, Sara, our waitress, and Joan, the  other early morning customer were all there to wish us Good Luck as the days wound down to “Wheels -Up” (in aviation parlance).

          Now finally done with all of our last-minute preparations, our vehicles are sold and the “Last Exit in New Jersey” sign is in sight as we head out on the road. Our first stop was Danny, Kaitie, and Madison’s home in Brenham, Texas. We are presently parked on their property and we have started to navigate the local process of becoming “Texan’s” so we can register the vehicles, vote and otherwise still be “official” instead of really being off the grid!

          I will leave it here. The universal opinion on writing a blog is to have several posts ready to insert when it is finally up and going. I am definitely not that internet savvy, so I’ll need to do some homework and lean on someone to get me through it all. Until then I will just keep writing.

          Stay tuned.

Categories
Intro

In the Beginning…..

Good Day to Anyone Who Cares to Read This!
The folks that host this site recommend that I do some sort of introductory message. My goal is not to reach millions of people, but instead to keep friends and family informed of our whereabouts and doings while on the Road. If it turns out that my writing is so awesome and the Lifestyle Editor of the New York Times keeps badgering me to write for them then maybe I will have to update this. Until then all of you are acquainted with me so I will not bore you with information that you already know!
Thanks!
Don