New Home

It started with the sewer hose.

I fixed that - and was damn proud of myself for doing it.

Then there was the waterfall inside the camper during the first heavy rains in Bentonville. Water streaming through the lights and speakers in the ceiling. That was fun.

I fixed that, too. Turns out the previous owners didn't maintain the seals, which is an annual project for every camper. I found large cracks and gaps in all of the roof seals. That fix was a total pain in the ass - I spent two days scraping off the old, cracked sealant and putting on new sealant - but I did it. It didn't rain again inside the camper, despite several heavy downpours in Arkansas, but ..... I had no idea how much water damage was hiding in the ceiling from past rainstorms.

*Smiling here -- but this was taken in the first hour of the 24+ hour project from hell.*

Did I mention the bent axle? No? Oh yeah, that's right, I was trying to pretend that didn't exist.

My last day in Arkansas, I brought the rig to a trailer hitch place to get my hitch adjusted because, to my inexperienced eye, it looked weird. The trailer hitch guy took a bunch of weights and measurements and added a washer to my hitch. It looked much better, IMO. He also helped me set my brake controller to the right setting. I was all pumped to safely proceed on this epic road trip.

But then he said "so, do you have a plan to replace that axle?"

Excuse me now, what??

He removed the tires and showed me that the something-something-piece-of-something-attached-to-the-tire-holder thingy was wonky. And then he showed me how unevenly my tires were wearing because they didn't have full contact with the road. Fuuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkkkk.

He assured me that the axle probably wouldn't randomly detach itself while I was driving, but that I was at increased risk of a tire blowout because of the uneven wear. Awesome. I'll fix that wonky axle thing when I win the lottery.

Then there was the air conditioner debacle. Driving through Kansas, a fellow driver on I-70 pulled up and started wildly flapping her arms, pointing at my roof. I pulled over and saw that the cover to my AC was only partially attached to my roof, and was flapping as wildly as my fellow driver's arms. I didn't have a ladder that was tall enough to get up on the roof, and I didn't want to employ any crazy climbing moves to get up there while on the shoulder of a very busy Interstate. So I beat it with a broom handle until it snapped back down and got off the Interstate.

That "repair" didn't last either. Less than 5 miles later, a dude in a truck pulled up beside me and had the same wildly flapping arms as the lady on the Interstate. I drove to an auto repair shop and asked if I could borrow a ladder. I was pretty proud of myself as I climbed onto the roof and zip-tied the cover to the AC. Once I got to my campsite in Kansas, I employed some child labor to use her awesome climbing skills to get up onto the roof to check my work.

*Ella, in her best Wonder Woman pose, assuring me I did a great job of zip-tying the AC cover.*

Guess what didn't last? Yep, the zip ties. On the way to my next Kansas campground, an oncoming car was wildly flashing his lights, which I figured was conveying the same important message as the two previous drivers wildly flapping their arms.

Somewhere on a road in Rural Kansas. RIP random air conditioner parts.

Still not in possession of a ladder tall enough to reach the roof, I threw those pieces in the rig and drove on. Until the next driver pulled up next to me and pointed at my roof. Yep, another piece of the AC had flung itself off the side of the road and into a ditch. That piece is still in that ditch somewhere in rural Kansas.

Luckily, I was camped at a Harvest Host vineyard that night. Because I really needed a drink after that drive. And do you know how many more drinks I needed after I put my slide out and watched it drop 3 inches just as it reached its maximum extension? Bottles. Thankfully, the winemaker was more than happy to sell me one.

*Shiloh Vineyards in WaKenney, Kansas. Who knew they made good wine in Kansas?*

While watching the Kansas sunset, and drinking that bottle of wine, I had flashbacks to the time my ex-husband and I had to manually push the slide back in our 5th wheel (which was a MUCH bigger slide) somewhere in rural northern California, because the frame had bent after he overloaded too many motorcycles in it ... which was a few weeks after we had a massive tire blowout in heavy traffic in Albuquerque.

It all started adding up - the bent axle-tire-connector thingy, the drooping slide, the unevenly worn tires. One of the two previous owners had probably overloaded this rig - and all the problems associated with that were just starting to show up now that I owned the damned thing.

*Kansas sunset - the backdrop for some serious contemplation.*

Y'all know I'm not wealthy by any means, and this whole road trip thing is hanging by a very thin financial string. It seemed ridiculous to keep throwing money at this rig. It also seemed ridiculous to buy a new one. I mean, I suppose I could have just dumped the thing in a high-crime area and collected the insurance money, but that just seemed ..... wrong.

The next day, I headed to Denver to visit my cousin. When I got there, I found that my sewer hose - the same one I fixed back in Arizona - had detached and been dragging on the ground, meaning I'd need to repair that AGAIN before my next dump.

The Denver area is saturated with RV dealers and my cousin had high speed internet, so I started researching. As if the Universe was sending me a gift, I found a 2023 rPod at the Camping World in Longmont that was NEW, but last year's model, so it was priced to sell. It was the only small/lightweight RV in all the inventory in Denver that had the solar package and off-road packages that I needed. And they were practically giving it away.

I spent the next morning creating an intricate web of daisy-chained zip ties to hold everything together under the rig. I very carefully put the slide in, and gave it an extra little push from the outside. I re-assembled the AC parts I had left (with zip ties, of course) and threw them in the back of my truck. And then I asked the Universe to safely get me up to Longmont.

Half way to Longmont, a fellow driver pulled up beside me, waving his arms wildly and pointing at my rig. I shit you not.

I pulled off the highway and into a parking lot to find that my grey water tank hose had tried to make an escape from this doomed rig, and had been dragging on the ground, just like the sewer hose. Got it, Universe. I hear you.

The sales team at Camping World must have really wanted to get this 2023 off the lot, because the trade-in valuation guy didn't even look underneath the rig, and was non-plussed with the detached AC parts. I closed the deal FAST - before they could discover my extensive network of zip ties holding it all together.

The new rig is amazing! It's 4-feet longer than the old one, which really wasn't necessary, but it makes it so comfortable for living in. It has more solar panels and more efficient batteries and 30-gal fresh water and grey water tanks. That means I can last a few more days boondocking than before. The main bed is a Murphy Bed that folds up into a couch during the day, which the pups are a big fan of. There are also bunkbeds - which seem ridiculous given that I don't have human guests - but Kiva has made the bottom bunk hers, and the top bunk is great for storage.