Now that we fast forwarded lets rewind. Kinda reminds me of the scene scene in the movie Willy Wonka, when Mr. Wonka gets confused. Somehow, on that level, I feel a kinship. I won't blame you for your befuddlement. But it won't help me with my story, so read on.
This year, unlike last year, I did not have the camping season planned out in March. I just wasn't motivated to. Maybe my sub-conscience knew what the future held. If it did, why the hay didn't it tell me?! Could have saved me countless nights waking in abject terror begging for my mommy. Continuing...
The season started out the week before Memorial Day with me calling campground after campground trying to find an available site. I finally called the Twin Mountain, NH KOA. Fortunately, they knew I had procrastinated and had saved me a site. Are you kidding me? I'm dreaming here. But how cool would that be?
Anyway, that Friday we loaded the venerable Astro Van with all our supplies, thrown in at the last minute, along with firewood and 2 dogs and a kid or two to make the trip more enjoyable.
Oh yeah, a bit of background, so rewind again. I promise you won't lose your place. I had at least had the presence of mind to make sure the van was serviced, spending enough money to fund a small nation for weeks on end. Stuff like the A/C pump, rods of some sort or another that they "said" would keep the wheels attached steering wheel (yeah, like I'm going to believe that! I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday. It was the day before!) And then there were other things like 2 new tires, an oil change. Man, we were stylin'! I did not, however take the same attitude toward the Casita. Just drained the pink stuff, hooked up to the van and called it good.
Then it struck me like a feather dropping on my head-I blew out the heating element. I didn't make sure to fill the 6 gallon holding take before I turned the power switch on. Lovely! Like I'm going to be able to explain that at the next monthly meeting of Manly Men Who Know What They Are Doing. I'll be the joker who has to wear the T-shirt reserved for the least deserving Man sporting "But I can iron a shirt really well!"
The next day was glorious, so we went for a hike to the top of a lovely little hill. Little is a term which is interchangeable with "For the love of pete! If I have to take one more step, I'm going to hurl myself down this mountain and be a snack for the bears!"
Now I was scared, but not wanting to have to wear the T-shirt at the next meeting, I pulled over and popped open the hood and started muttering. Unbeknownst to my family, I was saying "if I had a pair of socks, my feet would be more comfortable". But to them I'm sure it sounded like "nope, the battery wire is tight, and I can see no melted parts or arching sparks". Since I truly am clueless, I got back in, started it back up, noticed the needle was still low, but drove on.
Another brief diversion to paint you a picture. Imagine some of the prettiest scenery around, big tall mountains dropping sharply to a valley, where the road meanders along beside a stream. And it is so pretty because a lot of it is untouched by civilization, for a good 26 miles...yeah, you know where this is going.
We made another 5 miles before the van completely died. As what little luck we had, would have it, it died in a small engine repair shop driveway. The last repair shop for 26 miles. Of course, that's where the luck stopped as it was Sunday about 6PM. It was closed and would be until Tuesday.
My daughter and I walked a half a mile to a local restaurant, and asked for a phonebook and a phone since my cell phone had died (and you thought you were never going to hear of our pain and anguish. Aren't you glad you stuck with it?!). I made a call to AAA who said they could tow the van to a garage, and someone could look at it...Tuesday. I see a reoccurring theme here! I ask you, what good is that, when we are 26 miles from our Casita, and there are no motels with vacancies for miles?
Not knowing exactly what to do, we walked back to the van. As we approached I saw a relatively old man bent over the hood of the van and the beaming face of my wife. She said that he was the owner of the shop, who lived nearby who saw we were having trouble. He had a battery/alternator tester machine, a within an hour announce that our alternator was toast. I asked if his shop could fix it, he assured me they could...Tuesday. Gall dern it!
Upon hearing that we had separation anxiety from our Casita, he said "I have new Interstate battery in the shop that I can put in your van that should get you up to your campground. The battery in the van is not the proper size anyway. And I'll loan you the charger to recharge it back up to get back here...Tuesday"
We were overjoyed and filled with gratitude. Our luck was re-ermerging once again, and the birds were chirping a bit more melodically. We drove the 26 miles without using fans, the radio or anything which would draw the precious life out of the new battery.
When we got back to the campground, we noticed dark storm clouds approaching. Since we had a freak windstorm rip off our awning the 2nd year we owned our Casita, dark storm clouds always leave me standing in a puddle. I strapped the awning and posts down tight and moved our kids tent under the awning. About 9:30PM, the wind really picked up and I could hear the vinyl part of the awning flapping wildly about. I went out, and tried to wind the awning back in, but the inner spindle just merrily turned, without pulling the awning in. I was devastated. How were we to drive the 152 miles home...Tuesday...with the awning out?
Again it brings to mind the scene from the movie RV. In it, they are in such a hurry to leave a campground and some overly friendly neighbors, they forget to reel the awning in and drive off with everything dangling. Hilarious for them. Us? Not so much.
When I awoke the next morning, I rushed out, fully expecting to see the awning in tatters, and the poles bent into some fantastic modern art piece. I was shocked. Everything was fine. I then got the awning winder thingy out, again fully expecting to repeat the same nauseating results of the night before. Once again, I was shocked. It rolled right in, as it normally would.
Tuesday. Has that day been mentioned before? I drove the van back to the shop, making a point to be there at 9AM, when the guy said it would open. I figured that with a crew of mechanics, the alternator should be swapped out and we'd be on the road home in no time. Instead, I was greeted by the older gentleman who said he was going to do the job. Old and frail and a chain smoker with a knee that was to be replaced in a few weeks. I will spare you the miute-by-minute agony, and will just say that by 2PM, the alternator was still on, the poor guy was literally spent, and said he had to take a break to rest. All the while, I had been his assistant. Now that is terrifying!
and she called him to help bail the guy out. He arrived shortly with his jack-of-all-trades buddy and by 3:30PM had the new alternator back on. The battery light was off and everything was good, except for the price. $870 for the new battery, the alternator and the labor.
But I can still hear you saying "well, I'm glad everything worked out, and you finally had your happy ending" Are you kidding me? The bad day isn't over!! On the way back up to the campground, guess what? The battery light came on. By this time I had become an ASE certified mechanic, and it was easy for me to diagnose what the problem was-the battery was low, due to the drive down to the shop, and would take a little while to recharge. I got back to the campground, hooked up the Casita, and off we drove, back down the same road I knew by heart now. When we got a mile or two past his shop, the gauges went dead. My wife said "turn around and take it back to that guy!" Somehow the joy we felt for him on Sunday evaporated like dew on a hot day. I refused on 2 grounds. One, he had closed his shop and said he was going to take some major pain meds, and I didn't think he could work on it. Two, it obviously was not the alternator like he said it was, so why would he now know what was wrong?
Our van died the second time at 4:50PM, in a Penske truck rental shop. I went in and asked the lady in the office if there was a shop nearby that was still open, and if the mechanic could tow the van there. Two customers overheard me "oh, our mechanic is right around the corner, about a quarter of a mile. You want a ride there?" Like I'd refuse that!
The mechanic said he'd look at the van, and put an auxiliary battery on the car to get it to his garage. 2 hours later, he had it figured out. It was not the alternator to begin with. A wire that runs to the alternator has to travel by the exhaust manifold, it got hot, melted, and shorted out. However, he did take the time to show me that the starter, which I guess is made from some ceramic-type substance was literally on it's very last leg, and that I should not turn the motor off until I got home. He charged $152.
Thats all, right? Nope! We got it home, and the next day went out to start it and...and...dead. We called a tow truck, who towed it to the Chevy dealer who put a new starter on and found $5000.00 more in work that needed to be done. We agonized for days and days about whether we should get the things fixed or not, but came to the conclusion that it would not be worth it, as it had 110,000 miles, and was our tow vehicle. After that bad day in May, no thanks. So we ended the day on a bright, cheery note:
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