Tag Archives: motor home

A place to live if the RV breaks down

Hi readers. I swapped Gale for this trailer, finalized it yesterday.

In addition to giving me the means to get my stuff out of this valley and into storage in Harper, I can live in this thing if the RV breaks down somewhere up the road. It’s light enough so a half-ton junker pickup truck can pull it.

It takes a considerable load off my mind. Both Gale and Raymond, the guy up the hill have pointed out if that RV quits I’ll be dead in the water. I tried not to let it bother me, but couldn’t help it nagging me some.

But with a Coleman stove and oven, my diesel burning heater, a bunk, I can live in this thing. Better than almost all my ancestors almost certainly lived before they left Europe. And certainly better than any Native American ancestors did.

The DuoTherm heater began life in the late 1940s or early ’50s as a kerosene trailer heater. The man up the hill had it, but we couldn’t get the carb to work. Eventually replaced the carb with a needle valve and converted it to diesel fuel, which is cheaper and more easily available.

Besides, if a person doesn’t have much he doesn’t have much to lose.

Old Jules

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The Centralist Texasist RV Magnate

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

Feeling a bit blundery here.  Got involved in a book around 10pm and around 3am discovered it was 3am and I still had 75 pages demanding my immediate attention.  Decided what the hell.  Storm came around 70 pages later so I was up scurrying closing everything open to rain on both vehicles.

The attempts by modern civilization to snag me into negativity and stall the process of my registering the 1978 wossname, Holiday Rambler, failed and I dotted all the necessary eyes, paid out a few hundred bucks, only had to be the tiniest bit of an ooocher of legalities.  That Ford RV is now legally a resident of Texas, standing up on its hind wheels and whinnying.  Next it will be wanting to vote.

This staying up all night reading without intending to is something the law ought to insist younger men do.  Screws up all manner of habitual behaviors for cats and men my vintage.

Anyway, nice little rain last night.

The financial drain of all this has me thinking I’ll be online a lot today chasing through the available gate guard and pipeline guard for oilfield jobs.  I need a spurt of wealth to undo what’s been done to my wallet with all this.

My friend Eddie keeps track of such things as this and tells me the gate guard think is doable, sent me some links, and when I mentioned it in town to a couple of people a couple of them gave me some email links.

A few months of that would provide the friends I owe money to a relief of the burden of me owing them money [Keith and Rich, I love you as brothers and am eternally grateful for being there when I needed you].   And the weight of not being financially solvent robbing my macho, mainly, because neither of them’s hectoring me with anything but positivist enthusiasm.

Jules

Escape Route Version 2.5 Pussyfooting tremors

Ford RV

My old friend Gale’s going into Kerrville today to find out whether he’s reached the point in life to get his hip replaced sometime soon.  While he’s there he’s going to swing by and snap a lot more specific photos of that RV if he can arrange it with the seller.

I want a better view of the engine compartment, closeups of the tires clear enough to read the numbers so I can know how old they really are.  A pic of the other side …. I don’t have a clue where the entry door on the thing is.  Pics taken looking down the sides, front and back so I can discern whether the siding has any ripples indicating the overhead is sagging or it’s been in an accident.

After I’ve studied on those I’ll be better able to know whether it’s worth further examination.  I’ve about decided to pay a used RV repair/sales place in  town to go over it looking for warts if I can’t find good reasons to not buy it my ownself.

Escape Route Version 2.5

Ford RV

1970s Ford

If the guy isn’t disinformationing me about the shape it’s in, this might be the next step in the long road home.  He says it’s got all new tires, spent the last 20 years under a carport, says everything works and is willing to provide the means for me to test everything before we finalize a deal.

Says it’s never had any leaks of any kind, roof, plumbing, and the structure, panelling of the coach is solid.  Says it has 60,000 actual miles on the gasoline engine.

If he hasn’t sold it by the time I can get to see it I’ll have a careful look at it first chance I can manage.

Escape Route [or Rout] Projects and Such

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

I suppose any vehicle as old as this one and built as this one was built would inevitably require some fixup before becoming a cabin on wheels.  I mentioned in an earlier post about the springs sagging, and the springs have arrived, waiting for the new shocks to get here.

But I’m going to remove that AC unit up there to get rid of the weight, replace it with a roof vent, which is in transit.    That’s a lot of weight up there to be carrying around for something I’m unlikely to use much.  And there’s evidence the roof structure doesn’t need the challenge it provides.

I covered that crack in the front window with Gorilla tape for now, but ultimately I’m thinking I’ll cut a flat piece of panel to place behind it and fill in the bubble-void with insulation foam. 

Probably put a compartment in it for a GPS receiver with a better view of the sky than I’d get from the dashboard.

I’ll run Delorme Street Atlas on the laptop when I’m trying to navigate around towns, but I truly love Terrain Navigator where there’s enough variation in the terrain to justify using it.  I’m rigging a stand for the laptop to swivel from one of the passenger-side neck-support posts.

This thing just posted by itself.  I’m just going to finish it, editing in the rest, I reckons.

Anyway, once I get the AC off I’ll do a complete over on the roof with this stuff, and new caulking anywhere my imagination leads me.  The critical path on this part is that I can’t pull off the AC until the 14×14 roof vent arrives to replace it.

I’ve been feeling the walls and ceiling inside and out, drilling through and squirting in a lot of that Great Stuff foam where I find a void, of which there are a sufficient number to allow me a sense of accomplishment.

Then there’s the matter of the cats.  I’m making that overhead into a travel space for the cats to enjoy themselves in while we’re on the road.  A place where they can’t contrive to get underfoot, or jump out at a gas station to find a new life for themselves.

Once we’re parked somewhere it will go back to being a bed, whatever, but on the road it will be a cage.  They won’t like it, but they’ll like it better than all the alternatives they’d find in the alternative Universe they’d be choosing for themselves if they got loose.

And against the advice of people who know a lot more than I do about these matters, I’m going to find, or construct a small trailer to pull behind for large bags of cat food, tools, extra clothing, and probably some prospecting gear.

This thing’s for sale in San Antonio [Converse] on Craigslist for $100.  If I weren’t so far from SA I’d snap it up, gut it and convert it to a light haul trailer with a top to pull behind the Toyota.  Might be a ragged out popup is sitting behind someone’s house within a 40 mile radius they’d part with at a similarly righteous price.

But I’ve messed this post up enough for now.  Maybe I’ll go into this more later on a post I haven’t already posted.

Old Jules

Done Deal Down in the Middle of Nowhere

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Drove that house out here at speeds that our great-great grandaddies would have fainted and revived themselves to know.   By 19th Century standards it was a rush.  By 20th Century standards it slowed down some.  But it came down the 19th Century standards road from the pavement to the cabin as smoothly as a buckboard or stagecoach would have. 

Didn’t require many miles to discover I’m gonna need to install some helpers for the rear leaf springs.  Or replace the old ones.  A cross-wind at 55 adds thrills a person couldn’t find on a drag strip or Daytona speedway.

Now, whenever this is, I’m going to have to see if it will climb back out of here, drive over to the County Seat at TimeWarpVille, Texas.  Maybe turn loose a few criminals if I get selected for jury duty.

Civic duties, civic duties, civic duties!  Just drives me crazy!

Old Jules

Down Here Where It’s Sane

Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

I try not to allow myself to get too involved in the kinds of things real people trouble themselves over, but for the past several months Real Reality’s been poking me and pinching me on the rump.  Real Reality’s an ego-maniac, thinks it’s important and if a person isn’t careful it can convince him it has something to do with anything, make a considerable nuisance of itself.

All these oak trees falling, others threatening to fall on inconvenient and distracting places.  Various new roof leaks.  A number of other nagging items not worth mentioning.  They’ve been taps on the shoulder by Real Reality I’ve suspected might be followed by a round-house to the jaw if I didn’t duck and dodge.

So, a few days ago when I came across a 1983 Toyota RV I can manage to squeeze me and the cats into [out from under trees] I felt more relief than I expected of myself.  I can quit wondering where I’m going to live, at least structurally and what I’m going to drive transportationally.  Opens the doors to more palatable geographic questions.

I’ve a number of issues I’ll need to wrap up here, depending on all manner of non-ponderables, but if things required it I could be out of here in a couple of weeks.  Or, if I’m left to piddle around doing it, a couple of months.  But one-way-or-another the engine’s running and the Coincidence Coordinators are giving their approval for me to get the hell out of Dodge before the snow flies out west.

The road mightn’t be brick, mightn’t be yellow, but there’s an exit ramp coming and if I can get this thing slowed down enough I’m going to cut myself loose from all this pesky Real Reality rushing around making a nuisance of itself. 

Old Jules