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-Gramps-

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Blog Entries posted by -Gramps-

  1. -Gramps-
    I have been suffering from a bad case of the blahs, so I have not made a blog entry for some time. You could call it a case of the blags. Today, however, I seem to have a sudden burst of energy. I am looking out my office window at my snow-covered coach and at the 10-inch-thick white blanket that is covering my front yard as well as the rest of the neighborhood and I feel inspired to write something.
    What, I don't know. I have not done any RVing lately. Nothing except trying to keep my coach warm, so that the batteries and the tanks and the water heater won't freeze. I have been successful so far, although I think I may have a damaged ice maker solenoid. I forgot to disconnect the water supply line and let everything drain. It's not a big deal; we don't use the ice anyway.
    I suppose I could write another chapter about my past Christmases. Seeing all this snow makes me think of that time of the year, even though it's the last day of January. Why not go ahead and tell you about one of them? It might do us both some good. It's a Christmas that I love to remember, the events leading up to it ... well, not so much.
    Christmas 1968 was the end of a very rough time for my family. That rough time started some 18 months earlier.
    In February 1967 my father, George Clayton Parker, at the rank of AMHI (for you non-military folks, that translates to Aviation Metal Smith first class), retired from the Navy. He had a distinguished career that spanned twenty one and a half years starting in July 1946. A few days after his 18th birthday, he enlisted.
    Just months after the official end of World War II, my father, then a member of the Military Police, soon found himself in the Philippines as part of a combined service task force whose assignment was finding and apprehending Japanese soldiers hiding in the mountains around Manila. He also had to do the same in Guam. These desperate men had either refused, or in many cases didn't know how, to surrender. This was a dirty and potentially a very dangerous job with no glory attached to it at all. Like many vets of the War, he has never talked at any great length about that time.
    My dad's last position in the Navy was as a career counselor, and his job, ironically enough, was to try to keep people in the Navy. The Navy couldn't keep him. Our family was growing faster than his military paycheck could keep up with, and Dad came to the painful conclusion that he could support his family only if he became a civilian.
    That wasn't all of it, though. My mom wanted to move back to Denton, North Carolina, to be closer to her father. To that end, Mom and Dad purchased four acres of land from my grandfather for a very low price. The plan was to move in with Papa, and live there while Dad and my Uncle Hubert, who was in the home construction business, built our family dream home.
    It was not a bad plan, I suppose. Dad could find a job in the area. There were many booming textile factories in Salisbury and other towns around Denton. All of us would pitch in to clear our new property and start building. At the same time, my mom would be near her dad and the rest of her clan. My brother and I would attend school in Denton. My sisters, too young to attend school, would have all kinds of female cousins and aunts to fawn over them. When summer came my brother and I would be living on a farm with mountains and lakes and cousins close by. It would be one big vacation! Or so we thought.
    I remember the day my dad retired. The ceremony started at 7 a.m. and took place inside the enlisted men's gym. I sat nervously on a hard chair, with my hands under my backside because they were shaking so hard. I watched my dad, wearing his starched Dixie cup hat and in his crisp Navy Blue dress uniform, with lots of gold hash marks on the sleeves, walk between the ranks of Navy Men also in their dress blues. He was making a final inspection, a privilege usually granted to retiring officers. My dad, however, had an exceptional career and was given a retirement ceremony that recognized his service. Before the inspection a Navy band played the National Anthem and the Navy Hymn. The Commanding Officer of the Norfolk Naval Air Station made some complimentary remarks; my dad, at times choking back tears, said some farewell words.
    He finished his inspection, was piped out of the building and his days as a sailor were over.
    I was no longer a Navy brat with trips to the base theater, the bowling alley, the exchange and all the other perks that I took for granted. It was now time to go to our no-longer home, pack up our lives into various-size boxes, rent the house to strangers, then say a lot of goodbyes, and head to a small town where everybody knows everybody else.
    My grandfather's house was a two-bedroom place with a large glassed-in front porch, a dining room, formal living room, den and an enclosed back porch. It was built long before indoor plumbing was in style and so the bathroom was an ad-on that you got to by way of the back porch. The house was heated by an oil circulator in the den and there was also a potbellied wood stove sitting on a stone slab on the front porch. I would get to know that stove very well.
    We moved in during a bitter cold spell sometime around Valentine's Day 1967. My sisters shared a bedroom with my parents. Rod, my younger brother, and I, we moved into the enclosed front porch.
    The porch was divided by a curtain to give Rod and me some privacy. We had a couple of twin beds with electric blankets, a desk, and some shelves. Underneath the shelves we fastened some iron pipes to hang our clothes. We also had a chest of drawers and on top of that our own television set. It was black and white, of course. The antenna was attached to a 10-foot pole just outside one of the porch windows. One of us would go out there and stand on an overturned wash tub so we could see the television. Then we would turn the pole until we got a picture that was viewable. We did this every time we changed the channel. It's a good thing that there was only two or three of them.
    I remember twisting that pole on Friday nights, so that Emma Peele of the Avengers could be viewed without being in a blizzard of electronic snow. We twisted it on Saturday mornings in order to watch the Three Stooges. There were times when my fingers froze to that pole. There would be other times when it was too hot to touch.
    It was quite an adjustment to learn how to live in the dead of winter in a porch room heated by a wood-burning stove that went out in the middle of the night. Having no heat was not good. Some of our first nights, the temperature dropped down into the low teens.
    I liked to shower before bedtime (my grandfather didn't have a tub) and many a night I would wake up with my hair frozen to my pillow. Rod wrapped himself up in his electric blanket. In the moonlight shining through the windows, it looked like a white body bag in the bed next to mine.
    Not long after we moved in, Mom took us in to town to register us for school. Denton had one elementary school, one junior high, middle school as it is called now, and one high school. So we knew where we would be going, it was the same school my mother attended, her brother and sisters, and most of my cousins. We would be riding on the bus with one of our first cousins and a distant cousin was the driver. The bus picked us up in front of my grandfather's gas station and country store at seven am on the dot. Rod and I were the first ones on the bus and the last ones to get off. It took one hour to get to our destination.
    The day Mom registered us we took the car into town. That took only twenty five minutes. The principal was in charge of all three schools and he had been there forever. My mom told me that Principal Harper (not his real name) was known, without affection, as The Frog.
    Everyone in the school office knew us, and knew we were going to register that morning. I think they knew it before I did. That is just the way it was in that town. As a matter of fact, later that summer my parents planned a trip to Expo 67 in Canada. They wanted to surprise my brother and me, but the surprise was spoiled by the local barber, who told me about the trip while cutting my hair. How he learned about it is still a mystery.
    Let me get back to my story. Mom registered us without a hitch and just before we were to go to our new classes Mr. Harper commented on how we would like our school here more than the big city schools we had moved away from.
    "Why is that?" I asked.
    Mr. Harper's response was totally unexpected.
    "Because young man," he said with a smile, "we have no coloreds here in our school."
    I didn't know what to think about that. I was a Navy brat. My former school was mostly Navy kids, so it was integrated. My family had lived in Navy housing, it was integrated. Our church was integrated. My dad's second floor Navy office was integrated, so was the enlisted men's club that was on the first floor. The Navy exchange and the Marine exchange, the theater, the commissary, all of these were integrated. I knew about people being separated by rank. The house in Norfolk we just left was in a neighborhood of homes owned by mostly Navy officers. I went to school with their kids, but I had never been in the officer's mess or in the officer's club. I was used to that but this statement by the principal didn't seem right to me. Not right at all.
    I looked up at my Mom.
    Something seemed to come over her. She lifted her chin up, stood up straight and looked the principal right in the eye. In her best "you better listen to your Momma" voice, she responded.
    "Mr. Harper, I have no choice, I have to enroll my boys in your school, so I am going to ignore that remark and I will hope that in spite of the fact that there are, as you so proudly put it, no coloreds here, that my boys will still manage to get a decent education."
    She grabbed both our hands and jerked us toward the door.
    "Now would you be so kind as to let me take my boys to class."
    Mr. Harper's mouth flopped open and his eyes bugged out. I knew then why they called him The Frog.
    Once outside Mom started walking so fast toward the Junior High School across the street, that she pulled Rod off his feet. As she was helping him back upright I said to her:
    "Way to go Mom, you sure let The Frog have it!"
    She turned and glared at me. I had seen that look before. That look could kill flies in mid air. "Mr Harper is still your principal and don't you ever forget that, do you hear me?"
    "Yes, maam," I answered meekly. "I hear you."
    "Okay, now let's go to class."
    It seemed like the best thing to do. I had a lot to learn. As it turned out, we all did.
  2. -Gramps-
    The kids have grown up. They are doing other things now...working, raising kids, taking pictures, playing music.....
    http://www.myrandomviews.com/blog/2015/5/9/couch-cushion-fort-musical-interlude
  3. -Gramps-
    It is the 100th anniversary of the RV industry, so it seems appropriate to make a trip to Elkhart. Actually, I had no idea that it was or is the RV Centennial until I walked through the doors of the RV Hall of Fame in Elkhart, but I am getting ahead of myself.
    Diane and I, along with our friends Gary and Janis, have been planning on a trip to Elkhart, Indiana, for some months now. We were hoping to go there this past March 2, but the weather gave us all cold feet. In some places in Ohio there was over 30 inches of snow on the ground and our coach lot at Deer Creek in Galax, which we wanted to visit on the way back, had over 70 inches laying on it. I figured that since a snow plow, not being standard equipment on a motor coach, and would be needed to park on our lot, made a trip postponement necessary. We made plans to leave for Elkhart on April 9.
    Oh, the purpose of our trip was to visit Elkhart Service and Collision. Both our coaches were in need of some major slide out adjustments. Gary's coach had trouble with both the main and one bedroom slide. My coach's main slide out had never functioned correctly. BAL, the RV products division of Norco Industries, the designers of the cable driven Accuslide were planning on sending over a tech or two to work on the slide outs themselves. You can't beat factory direct service. Not to mention it's hard to get. Now this trip had a twofold purpose. In addition to the slide outs being repaired, we both had a long list of things we wanted done. Nothing on our lists was too major, but still necessary.
    The first of April showed all the signs of being a good weather month. We had ninety degree weather a couple of days before we left. Thursday, the day before our planned departure, I was making an emergency computer network install at the Trellis Restaurant in Williamsburg. I left poor Diane at home to pack up the rig by her self. This type of arrangement happens all too often, but that is the nature of running one's own business I guess. I made it home around six o'lock and spent the rest of the night loading up my clothes and the heaviest of the food stuffs into the coach. Our plan was that the only thing we would have to do the next morning was back out of the driveway, pull into the church lot next door, hook up the Saturn and be on the road by nine. We would not have to stop for gas, propane or anything else.
    We had the coach ready to go by 8:55. That is a new record. At 9 on the dot Gary called to see how we were doing. I told him that we were pulling out right then. Diane and I said our normal prayer for a safe trip, and started on our way. We met Gary and Janis, as planned, at the Monitor and Merrimac Bridge Tunnel inspection station. We both turned off our propane tanks and headed through the tunnel. ( It should be named the Monitor and Virginian tunnel, in my opinion, but if it was you couldn't call it the M&M tunnel which has a nice ring to it.) We kept in touch with each other with family radios.
    We traveled down I-64 for some 20 miles or so till we arrived at the first rest stop. There we turned our tanks back on and then continued. We were headed to Beckley, West Virginia. Our journey to our first overnight stop was almost uneventful. Almost.
    The drive west on I-64 was really nice. Spring had sprung. There were red buds in bloom, the trees were turning green, and daffodils by the hundreds were showing off their yellow heads along the road side. Both our coaches made it up Afton Mountain, west of Charlottesville, across the intersection of the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Skyline Drive.
    We turned south down I-81/I-64. It didn't take long to get to I-77/I-64 where we again traveled west, on to Beckley. We planned to stay at a small campground run by the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine. This is a nice tourist spot where you can take a mine car tour of an actual coal seam led by a veteran miner. We would have liked to do just that but we didn't have the time.
    Once we exited I-77 things became a bit dicey. Our gpses? gpss? I am not sure what the plural is, they both went crazy. We had conflicting directions and so we had to choose who was right, Tom or Ms Garmin. We choose Ms Garmin, but it turned out that neither gps was capable of giving good directions.
    We ended up going down a very small street barely large enough for two cars to pass each other. Gary was leading as we came to some kind of police check point. I don't know what they were checking for, but they waved us through. Gary made a right turn down an even smaller street that was also very down hill. Diane told me to ask the policeman for directions. This request came a bit late to help Gary and Janis, but it was still a good thing to do. I opened the window and asked the policeman if the right turn was the way to the Beckley Exhibition Coal mine.
    "You don't want to go that way!" He responded.
    He said this with a lot of emphasis so I immediately began to think that my friends and our coach's twin were headed for trouble.
    The policeman gave us more directions.
    "You need to go straight ahead to the next light, take a right and follow the signs. You can't miss it."
    We continued straight ahead. Diane radioed this info to the other coach. We went to the first light, turned right and found ourselves in downtown Beckley.
    Gary found himself in a tight neighborhood with small streets with telephone and power lines hanging almost lower than the coach's air conditioners. This made maneuvering a bit of a drag.
    There was nothing we could do for them except hope for the best, and find a spot to wait for them to disentangle themselves from a small place.
    We pulled into a food mart parking lot located alongside the narrow street that led to the campground.
    We waited about fifteen minutes, but it seemed like half an hour. As soon as Gary and Janis came into sight we made a very tight left turn. I held my breath as I maneuvered the coach around the grocery store sign.
    One thing was sure: We didn't want to miss this place and drive past it, so my eyes were peeled to the streets on our right. At a curve in the road we came along side a telephone pole that was very close to the right curb. A couple of feet past the pole was one of those small campground signs, the kind with the trailer on it, the word campground and an arrow. This arrow was pointing up a very steep hill. I stopped. There was no way I could make that turn.
    "There is no way we can make that turn," said Diane. "We are supposed to check in at the mine, which has to be up ahead. Let's keep going."
    I agreed to that so I started to pull forward. As I did I heard something funny. It was a scraping noise of some kind.
    "STOP! STOP! You are caught on the pole!"
    This terrible but very necessary instruction from Janis emitted from our radio.
    I quickly stopped, and of course thought to myself:
    "What have I done now?"
    I exited the coach expecting to see the side of it crushed like an empty tissue box. Gary was already outside. I looked up to see the pole nesting itself in the 1-foot-wide space between the patio awing and the bedroom topper awing. Two telephone guy wires were broken and caught up in the awing as well.
    There was no damage to the coach itself. We had 1 inch between the pole and the side of the coach.
    This would take some kind of driving to get off the pole. I had only one idea how to get away from it. Do the opposite of what put the coach there in the first place. I told Gary that I was going to turn my wheels hard to the right and back up, toad and all. Then, if we were lucky, the coach would be clear and I could pull it forward. He agreed that it might work and he would give me instructions on the radio. Diane and Nickolas decided to watch from outside so they exited the coach. Now it was up to Gary, myself and some prayer.
    I got back in and used the UFO 55-degree turning ratio for all it was worth. With Gary giving me precise instructions and to the amazement and amusement of many people living along the street we inched that big monster back and forth until it was clear of the nasty pole. I did have to force one driver to back up quite a ways but he looked like he enjoyed it. I continued the one block up the road to the Exhibition main entrance.
    Diane and Nicolas hitched a ride with Gary and Janis. No, I didn't forget her.
    I parked the coach and made an inspection. It seemed that the pole pushed the bedroom topper out of position. It was now back about two feet and the topper was obviously being pulled in a direction it didn't want to go. It looked fixable and after all we were heading for a repair facility.
    At this point I just wanted to park it, eat some dinner, have a beer (now you know what they are really for) and call it a night.
    We did all the above. First we had the fun drive back down to the offending pole where we made a left turn up the steep hill to the campground. It was small but not a bad place. Gary and I repaired the bedroom topper. It took a while to get it back into position. I discovered that the plastic cover at the top of the left patio awning arm was cracked. I felt very thankful that that was all the damage there was. I figured that ESC could take care of it with no problem. I hoped so anyway.
    For the most part it had been a good first day. It ended with a bang, so to speak, but hey it was an adventure. Tomorrow would be another day. The mountains of West Virginian awaited us, then on to Ohio and Indiana.
    But first......a stop at Tamarack.
  4. -Gramps-
    I am not sure if taking pictures of a Great Horned Owl nesting in a large live oak over our coach made me think of this old FMCA blog entry or not, but if it did then that is okay.
    I wrote it not long after we lost our grandson.  I re-read it myself this morning and I like it so maybe you will too.   Looking Up!
  5. -Gramps-
    On Christmas night, Diane and I met Gary and Janis for dinner and a movie. We got together at the Commodore Theater in Portsmouth for smoked chicken salad and fruit, ice tea and popcorn. We had not seen each other since the rally so we chatted about that before the show started. We all came away from the rally knowing that everyone who attended, including us, had a good time. Many, including Gary, learned to appreciate “It’s a Wonderful Life” more. Gary watched it again when it was aired just last week on NBC.
    We talked for about our hour about our families and how our Christmas day had been.
    Gary and I headed upstairs for some popcorn just as the theater lights were dimming.
    We watched Saving Mr. Banks. I really enjoyed the movie. I think we all did. I like a Disney ending. Isn’t that what we all want in life…a Disney Ending?
    Eight o’clock Saturday morning found me back in the meeting room along with Gary getting things ready for our full breakfast. The first thing I noticed on the way over was that the weather was starting to go south. In other words it was beginning to get cold. I didn't mind. It is Christmas time; it is supposed to be cold.
    Gary started the pots of coffee while I made sure the tables were in order. Janis arrived next and Diane not far behind after taking Teddy Bear for a trot around the campground.
    The caterers arrived at just after eight with lots of aluminum trays of food.
    I was surprised at how much. There were cheesy scrambled eggs, bacon, pork sausage links, turkey sausage patties, really flaky biscuits, and some of the best buttery grits I ever ate. There was plenty of juice and coffee of course.
    By eight thirty the place was full. Everyone seemed very cheerful, and ready to get this part of the festivities going. I heard very positive comments about the previous evening.
    Once again I rang a bell. As soon as I had everyone’s attention I announced that we would be eating, the Marines had arrived and once the Toys for Tots presentation was over our business meeting which included installation of our new offices would commence.
    We held hands, one our men said Grace and then the line formed.
    Breakfast was good. The two Marines, in their dress blues, sat with us at the host table and we chatted for awhile. Then they stood in front of the toy table, which by now was quite crowded with all kinds of toys and told us some history of the charity. They gratefully accepted the toys, packed them up and were on their way.
    We cleared the breakfast item and reset the buffet tables to work as officer tables and then the meeting began.
    Once the meeting was over I took the floor to announce that dinner would still be at six, happy hour at five.
    I also announced that the trivia contest would be a team effort.
    “The contest will be by table so I advise you to not sit by someone stupid!”
    That got a laugh…one of many before this day was over.
    The morning ended and every one headed out, some to go shopping (some for gifts, some for vintage clothing for some reason), some to one of the local bar-b-que spots for lunch, and some just decided to hang around in their coaches.
    The four hosts decided to go vintage clothing looking as well. Diane needed a 1940s hat. I didn’t need anything.
    I had my hat and along with that a brown three button suit, brown button up sweater vest, burgundy cap shoes, white French cuff shirt (with 60 year old cuff links!) and a burgundy striped tie it yourself bow tie. They all looked like they could have come from the movie wardrobe department. I tried the ensemble on a couple days before the rally. Along with the gray Stacey Adams fedora,I added some old wire rim glasses. I walked into the living room where Diane was sitting on the coach. She looked at me with a surprised expression:
    “You look like my Papou.” She said.
    We headed out to a place called the Old Mill shops in Weldon. There was a big flea market/consignment area there and who knows we might get lucky.
    We did get lucky. I found Diane an old 1940s black pillbox hat with a big side bow and gold beads around the crown. It reminded me of the style hat a stewardess would wear on the Pan-Am flying boats of the late 1930s or early 40s. It cost 14 bucks. Best of all it fit.
    “If this makes you happy, I will wear it” she said. It made me happy.
    We bought a couple of other things including a really cute animated snow-man baby (it plays peek-a-boo) which I wanted to buy for Diane to add to her collection, but she said no, “I have too many of them already and we are planning to downsize.” I bought it anyway with the plan to give it away that night.
    We traveled back to our coach where not much happened the rest of the day. Around three we started getting ready for the biggest event of the weekend.
    I let Diane go first and gave her lots of space. She refused to wear a dress or heels because that was too much trouble while hosting this party. I think she had a legitimate point. Earlier, I bought her a forties style black and white dress which I found at Macy’s but she didn't want to keep it both financially and logistically. She is a wise lady.
    Diane took her new hat and combined that with a Fuchsia suit jacket, a wide black belt and old style slacks with black round toed shoes. She finished it off with some antique Christmas marguisite jewelry. The whole effect was pretty darn good.
    I couldn't tie my own tie it yourself bow tie so Diane took care of that for me and she also helped with my cuff links..
    “Well now, George.” She said as she fastened a cuff and helped me with my jacket, “I think you look pretty good.”
    I put on my hat, a gold pocket watch in my left pants pocket, hooked the chain to my belt and looked in the mirror
    I thought she was right again.
    The final touch was a large light brown leather suitcase with straps that could have been a movie prop. It was provided to me by Janis, she brought it to the rally, and it looked like the real deal. I was thrilled with it.
    I looked forward to seeing what the other party goers would look like. I was hoping for some good competition. I didn't know it yet, but I was going to get just that.
    I went to the back to the room first with some items to put in my suitcase which included printouts of the trivia contest, pencils and prizes for all the winners.
    I made sure the room was in order, went back to the coach to help Diane carry our drinks and presents for the party.
    Gary and Janis caught up with us on the way back. Gary had borrowed a black bow tie and suspenders from me. He was dressed like a bartender with a white shirt and black shirt sleeve bands. Very appropriate for Gary to be Mr. Martini for the evening.
    Janis told me I looked like George Bailey. Well, that was the whole idea.
    We went in, and I shed the jacket while I set the banquet table with the leftover goodies from the night before for people to snack on during happy hour.
    About five fifteen our guests arrived including a very convincing Mr. Potter in his wheelchair, George in his football uniform, Carl and Dot came as a Gangster and his girl and others dressed for the forties. The best dressed contest now had a good number of candidates, I was glad to see.
    The caterers brought a ton of food, all of really good. While it was being set out on the table, I pulled out my suitcase and distributed pencils and copies of the Trivia contest, all six pages of it. One went to each table. It looked like a high school final exam. The surprising thing was, everyone dug right into it, even to the point that when dinner was announced no one wanted to get in line. They all kept on working at it.
    Of course everyone did finally help themselves to ham, turkey, stuffing, real mashed potatoes, Mac and cheese, green bean casserole, and peach cobbler.
    During diner the black and white version of the movie played silently on the TV. I informed all that when The End came up on the screen, the contest would be over. The contestants learned that some of the answers to the quiz could be seen, if they watched close enough and could read lips. People were huddled together discussing the questions; a lot of phones were out with Google being accessed. I never said that was not allowed. The very back table was using a couple of books about the movie that were on display on the table with the village. That was cheating, but pretty smart at the same time.
    I sat and chatted with Gary, Diane and Janis as they tried to answer as many of the trivia questions as they could. I was disqualified from playing, as I knew all the answers.
    At times the room was so quiet with just the hum of whispers and big band music playing (not too loudly) in the background.
    There was one interruption required during all this time. I needed votes for the best dressed. Once again I opened George’s suitcase and removed my pre-made ballots.
    I instructed all to vote for the top two people who fit the criteria. It didn’t take long for the votes to be turned in.
    My table did the tallying. Once the votes were counted first and second place were obvious. We had a tie for third. I had not voted yet so it fell to me to break the tie, which I did.
    I stood up to announce that we had our winners and that Mary Bailey would be presenting the prizes.
    Diane (who received a couple of votes) asked for Betty to come forward. Betty, who wheeled Mr. Potter into the room, came up front.
    Diane opened the suitcase and then said to Betty:
    “You have won third place and so I present to you…”
    She handed Betty a sea salt grinder full of sea salt.
    “Salt! So that life may always have flavor.”
    There was applause.
    Diane then turned to me and announced that I had won second place. She removed a long French Baguette from the case as she said.
    “I give you bread that this house may never know hunger!”
    There was laughter and more applause and by this time everyone had to know what the prize for first place would be.
    Diane asked for Frank to roll forward.
    “And to Mr. Potter I present” and then there was a chorus from all in the room as Diane lifted a bottle out of the case.
    “Wine! That joy and prosperity will reign forever!”
    I looked at Frank and said “Merry Christmas Mr. Potter!” in my best George voice.
    There were a lot of cheers as Frank, aka Mr. Potter, rolled back to his table.
    Even a warped, frustrated old man deserves first place sometimes. I didn't mean you Frank.
    A few minutes later as dinner continued and folks went back to the trivia questions they had passed over, THE END appeared up on the big screen.
    I rang my bell to announce the Hardest “It’s a Wonderful Life Trivia Quiz” was now over. It was time to review all the answers and determine our winners.
    I quickly read the questions followed by the answers, all fifty seven of them. There were a few “I knew it, why did we change it?!” responses along with some “We should have had that one.”
    The winning table had correctly answered fifty two. Mr. Potter was sitting at that table. I guess it was just his night.
    I carried my suitcase to the table and before I opened it I told the room I had one more question to ask of the winners.
    “What did George say when he hit the cigar lighter?”
    The table answered as one:
    “Wish I had a million dollars!”
    “Correct! You have won and here are your prizes” and then I opened my case, pulled out an old measuring tape and threw it at Mr. Potter as I said:
    “Except for you, because you don’t measure up!” That got a huge laugh.
    “For the rest of you here you go”
    Then I handed them all, including Mr. Potter, a chocolate bar wrapped in a million dollar bill.
    I also gave one to the oldest person there. We all call her Mom and she just turned ninety.
    “I think that anyone ninety years old who last night watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” for the very first time, unlike me who saw it for the hundred and something time, deserves a million dollars!”
    Everyone agreed with that.
    The rest of the night was a blast. We had our gift exchange and there was some stealing which created a lot of laughter, shouting and applause. Billy, our resident Santa made sure no one got too naughty. I had my gift stolen twice, I stole one from Mr. Potter. Why not? He owned me eight thousand dollars. I ended up with a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Crème and matching glasses. How appropriate is that?
    Diane, Mary, the light of my life, took home a box containing three gorgeous electric candles.
    When the last present was unwrapped, and my peek-a-boo snowman in the plain brown bag, was one of the last, the evening was officially over.
    No one wanted to leave. Everyone milled about or continued to sit even while all the hosts cleaned up and prepped for the next morning’s breakfast.
    I figured that was pretty good evidence that so far the rally had been a success.
    Tomorrow it would be breakfast; goodbyes pack it all up and then home for Christmas.
    The morning found us there early, hustling around making fresh fruit salad, ham biscuits, laying out trays of Danish and heating up leftovers from Saturday’s breakfast. Our efforts presented everyone with a good looking spread.
    A lot of our people leave early on Sunday. They skip breakfast to do so. Not this time. Everyone came. They prayed, they ate, and they talked. We heard so many good comments about how much fun the last two days had been. It really did my heart good.
    No one was in a big rush to see it end.
    When finally Andy closed it, we had lots of people stay and help us clean up. A special thanks to Grover and Margo for helping me box up my village, they saved me a couple of hours at least.
    Diane, Gary, Janis and I were the last ones to pull out of the park. We were all tired but we knew it had been worth all the work. The only thing left to do was to hug goodbye and say
    “Merry Christmas!”
    Now I know that this blog entry has gotten a bit long. I don’t apologize for that. The length is necessary to convey to you what I said at the beginning; I, we, wanted to make it possible for all my friends to really enjoy themselves. Many of our group had gone through some very tough times during the previous year and I believed they needed this weekend to reaffirm their faith in friends and family and something even greater than that.
    We did our best to create a Disney Ending.
    I wanted them to remember it, long after this rally was over.
    Now I am thinking about the next one the four of us will host….
    I already have a name for it.
    How does the “LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES RALLY” sound?
    Gramps
    PS if you want to take the IAWL quiz here it is:
    http://thedeliberateagrarian.blogspot.com/2006/12/most-challenging-its-wonderful-life.html
  6. -Gramps-

    Depreciation

    By -Gramps-,

    Here is something worth posting again from my blog here, now moved to my own blog page

    Depreciation:

    This subject pops up every now and then in the Internet forums, rv.net, IRV2.com, FMCA.com, where I hang about on a regular basis. It may be a post titled "Is your Class A a Money pit?" or "A motor home costs a whole lot more than you think it does!" The people who post these kinds of entries may or may not really have a problem with what a coach or any other large RV may cost. They might just be bored. It's Sunday night and the DW is watching "Real Housewives of xxx", so there is nothing better for them to do than post some sad story about how broke owning a coach is making them.

    The last time I saw one of these threads, I responded to it. I said that owning a motor coach is like having kids. You make a huge financial investment, with no return, but they make lots of good memories, are good for the soul, and will greatly improve one's life if you let them.

    I believe the RV lifestyle is under-appreciated by most people who are not part of it and also by some who are. Becoming a Motor Coacher has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me and my wife. Has owning one depleted my bank account? I suppose it has, but then, maybe not.

    I might have put away the money that I spend each month paying for my coach. I might have put away the money I spend on trips, including gas and food and camping fees, but I doubt it. I would have spent all of my trip and fuel money on airplane tickets, hotel rooms and cruise ships, or something else. The chances are that even if I did save it, a lot of the money could still have disappeared without me spending a dime of it.

    The present economic situation has poked a whole lot of holes in a lot of financial balloons. I just try to take advantage of what our coach can do for us. I may have to spend money on gas, a new water pump to replace a squirting frozen one, new wiper blades to replace frozen ones, a new water filter to replace a cracked and frozen one, but considering what our coach does for us it is worth it.

    I can tell you this that minus the monthly payment, the time I have spent in Florida, which included eight nights at Disney World, didn't cost us much at all. Not when compared to what two weeks would have cost staying in fancy hotels and eating out. I wish I could have stayed there a lot longer. Responsibilities called me home.

    Home is a very subjective word when you own a motor coach. Home is where my coach is. I felt quite at home in Fort Wilderness. As a matter of fact, the guard who checked us in said, "Welcome home, Mr. Parker."

    It was home. A few years ago we spent New Year's Eve in Saint Augustine and the next day climbed a lighthouse. My daughter was there and my son-in-law and my grandson. My wife was there and so was Teddy Bear. I had my favorite DVDs, my favorite beer, my favorite books, some of them anyway, and the things I like to eat the most. I also had great cable TV.

    At night we listened to music coming from the Disney Parks. We also heard the fireworks and, if we walked a little ways from our site, could see them, just over the tops of the trees. If we wanted to ride the monorail, we did. If we wanted to take a boat ride, we did that, too. We went to one park, and saw Cirque Du Soleil, followed by sushi at Wolfgang Pucks. We pin traded, we took Teddy to the Waggin Tails Dog Park. We basked in the 70-degree sunshine. We even had the pleasure of spending time with our friends Gary and Janis. What could be better than that?

    It was wonderful. It was wonderful until we had to say good-bye. We had to say good-bye to the warmth of our surroundings, our friends and our family. We said good-bye and then made our way back north. We came back to the cold, to work and to our son, daughter and grandsons, whom we missed a lot.

    It won't be long before we take our motorhome back out on the road and enjoy another great trip. We will make new friends and see new places.

    So, I don't worry about "depreciation" I try to appreciate the emotional and spiritual return I get from my poor financial investment. I hope that all my fellow Coachers and RVers do the same.

    Derrick
    aka "Gramps" 
    http://www.myrandamviews.com
  7. -Gramps-

    Off to Florida!

    By -Gramps-,

    The Night Before.
    It will be a day later than we planned but we are going to St Augustine for New Year's eve. We will do our best to make up the time that we lost. We lost it due to ten inches of snow or maybe it was twelve? It will be a long day on the road tomorrow. Hopefully we will pull into North Beach Campground late Wednesday instead of early in the day. Jeri, Tom and Dilly will arrive sometime Thursday Morning.
    I think that due to the snow eating the start of our trip, I will add an extra day onto our stay at Fort Wilderness and leave next Saturday Morning instead of Friday. What's another sixty four bucks?
    The snow is quite amazing. It is supposed to be the third biggest amount since records were started back in the 1880s or sometime close to that. We certainly have never had this much snow for Christmas in my lifetime.
    Fortunately I pulled in all the coach slide outs the night before. I didn't like the idea of climbing up on the roof and sweeping snow off. That seemed like a risky thing to do.
    I did my best to keep the coach warm. It was was not that hard to do. What was hard was thawing it out after the 12 volt water bay heater failed. The fan would blow but no heat at all. I had to put a 120 volt ceramic heater in the bay and keep it hot for quite a while. Once the water started flowing again I tuned it down to a balmy 70 degrees.
    So if all goes well, we make it down our icy street to the church parking lot where I hook up the car and then to the main road outside our neighborhood, we should be on our way to just south of Florence, South Carolina and spend our one night on the road.
    Well I need to make this short because I am still packing up the rig.


    Check back later, you never know what you might find here!
  8. -Gramps-
    PatrickH's blog entry From the beginning ... got me thinking.
    When did it start? When did the idea of being part of the motorhoming community first start to grow inside our brains? When did the idea first hit any of us, including Kay Toolson or John Crean, who founded Fleetwood, or Warren Buffet, the owner of Forrest River?
    All of us have our own story about how we ended up owning a motorhome company or, like most of us, just owning a motorhome.
    This is my story.
    Just about eight years ago my wife Diane, slipped on her padded wrist weights and headed out our front door to take her early afternoon walk through our neighborhood. She was not alone. Nickolas, our cocker spaniel, went right along beside her. It was a beautiful sunshiny April fool’s day with a bright blue sky and big fluffy clouds floating overhead.
    Diane took her journey of about two miles, which followed the main drive along the Western Branch of the Elizabeth River, past Tommy Newsom’s house, around the storm water lake and then the final road home, past Green Acres Presbyterian church, the playground and our front door.
    She never made it down the final road home.
    As she was passing a house owned by our neighbors, Radar, their pit bull mix dog, jumped the five foot chain-link fence and then raced to the street and grabbed Nickolas by the neck. Our dog let out a sound that Diane later described as a scream. Diane yelled at Radar with all the authority she could put behind it to let go and go home. The dog turned Nickolas loose and took off down the street.
    Nickolas lay on the ground and started to whine. Diane leaned down next to him to look for wounds. She was sure that there had to be a gash in his neck somewhere. There was not, but while she was looking, Radar, without a sound, hit her from behind. He grabbed her by the ankle, nipping through her Achilles tendon, and tried to drag her down the street. Diane, yelling again, turned and rapped him on the nose. He let go, and then as she was attempting to get to her feet, Radar clamped down hard on her left wrist, sinking his teeth into the exercise weight. Diane hit him again. The dog let go and then clamped down on her bare forearm.
    This time Diane screamed in pain and for help. She realized that this dog intended to kill her.
    A couple of blocks down the road, one of our neighbors heard her. He heard her screams for help over the sound of his lawnmower. He looked down the street, saw the dog and my wife, grabbed a brick out of his flowerbed and took off running. As he got close he yelled at the dog and waved the brick. Once more Radar let go of his intended victim and took off.
    Diane lay on the road with her blood literally flowing down the gutter.
    Across the street two more neighbors heard the noise, saw the dog take off and ran over. One was a nurse and the other was her daughter. The nurse borrowed Diane’s rescuer's shirt and tied it around Diane’s arm to stop the flow of blood while the daughter dialed 911.
    In less than ten minutes the rescue squad was on the scene. The paramedics refused to get out of the vehicle. They would not attend to my wife as long as the dog was on the loose.
    It took a lot of encouragement from our four neighbors, along with two boys who showed up, to convince the paramedics to get out and do what they needed to do. The boys, who happened to be riding by on their bicycles, said that each one would ride down to the end of the street and keep an eye out for the dog.
    Thanks to those brave boys and the actions of our neighbors, the paramedics were able to treat Diane and deliver her to the emergency room of the nearby hospital. The nurse and her daughter, after getting the key from Diane, delivered Nickolas back to our house. The poor dog was a nervous wreck.
    There were a lot of waiting patients at the hospital. Because Diane was mangled but not dying, they stuck her in a wheelchair and said she needed to wait. She rolled over to a free-for-patient’s payphone and called my voice mail/pager number.
    When I heard my beeper, I was standing in a dark phone closet located in a church. I was holding a flash light with my teeth staring at lots of wires on the wall. I reached down and unclipped my pager, read the number. I used my test set to call the paging service and listened to the message.
    I heard this soft, shaky voice.
    “Derrick, I was out walking Nickolas and got attacked by a dog. I am in the emergency room at Maryview. I thought you would want to know. “
    That was it. I had no idea how bad this was or wasn’t, but it did scare me to death. I charged out of the church and ran to my truck and drove a bit like a madman to the hospital, which was about nine miles away.
    When I arrived Diane was back in one of the trauma rooms. She was hooked up to an IV, her pants leg had been cut off at the knee and there were some bloody sneakers and wrist weights lying on a chair.
    We had some paper work to take care of. Pictures were taken and then they stitched her up, pumped her full of antibiotics and painkillers, bandaged her wounds. We filled out more paper work and received a set of crutches, followed by a trip in the wheelchair to my truck and home we went.
    Before I left the hospital the doctor talked with me and said that a main artery in her forearm (I don’t know which one) was missed by the dog by only a couple of millimeters.
    He also told me that the terrycloth-covered foam wrist weight bands she had on had saved her life. If the dog had gnawed her wrist the way he chewed up the band, that would have been it … chances are she would have bled out.
    Diane smiled at me the whole way home. It looked like a drunken smile to me. It did keep me calm and I can tell you I was pretty shook up.
    I thought about how close I had come to losing her. It wasn’t the first time she had been in the hospital for an emergency, but it was definitely the worst time. It made me start to reevaluate my position in life and what I wanted from it. I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted for me and for Diane.
    A few days later, I asked her what she wanted me to do for her.
    “What do you mean?’
    “Well, you were almost killed, don’t shake your head, we both know that could have happened. We have been working hard for a long time, you just got over back problems before this happened, we are not getting any younger and time is running out to try to make our dreams come true. So I think we should pick one and work on it ... so, which one? Trip to Greece? Bigger house? Want do you want?”
    Diane looked at me and said: "I want to look at campers. I want to spend more time camping in the mountains and I don’t want to sleep on the hard ground anymore.”
    I looked at her and said okay.
    I didn’t really mean it, because I didn’t think she meant it, either.
    Boy, was I wrong.
    Gramps
    http://community.fmca.com/blog/62/entry-536-how-did-it-start-part-two/
  9. -Gramps-
    Number 4. (Maybe the Last Rule!)
    Owning a motor coach is a never-ending learning experience.
    And just when you think you know it all, you find out just how stupid you really are.
    I have learned a lot about my coach, more than I ever wanted to know. I have had to study the mechanics of my engine, my slides, and my power seats as well as learn how it is wired for Surround Sound and cable TV. And, how it is plumbed including the ice maker, the fresh-water tank, the whole coach water filter and on and on. I have had to learn how to drive this big thing, including parking, turning, merging and more.
    I have learned that trees and rocks are harder than fiberglass.
    I have also learned, in no particular order, that:
    It is easy to lose arguments with inanimate objects located at various points inside and outside of my coach.
    Coach dealer mechanics are just like me -- they don't know as much as they think they do, which is why I have had to learn more for myself.
    Don't wait to consult the owner's manual. Read it before you start breaking something you are trying to fix. You might find out it is supposed to work that way!
    Two helping hands are better than one, especially when one of the hands is controlled by a brain other than your own.
    Still, the best helping hand is the one at the end of your own arm.
    Most things that break on a motor coach cost $650 to fix. Having owned two coaches I have had to:
    Replace a bent jack- 650 dollars.
    Replace two slideout toppers: dealer cost 650 dollars (I did it myself with some helping hands for a third of the cost).
    Have a non-square slide out modified so it would actually slide all the way in: 650 dollars.
    I have learned that when your rear end gets in a fight with a coach closet mirror, your rear end will win.
    I have learned that when my big motorhome gets in a fight with my little mailbox, the mailbox will win.
    I have learned that screws are better than staples for keeping things in their place (see above).
    Having friends with the same coach really helps trying to figure out if something is really broke or not (like a hard-to-open pantry and entry door).
    Wal-Mart has everything that the smart camper needs, like lots of beer.
    Don't throw any small plastic or metal things rolling around in your coach away until you find out where they go and what they do. Put them in a special drawer so you can find them later.
    I have learned that the tool you need to fix the problem you have is the tool that is still at the store.
    When emptying your tanks, at least two people will walk over to talk to you.
    I have learned that I find my self looking for the locations of the nearest Wal-Mart and Lowes no matter where my RV is parked at the time.
    Own good tools, not cheap ones. Why waste your money or your CCC?
    I have learned that CCC doesn't actually stand for carrying crappy cargo.
    I have learned that I sometimes have way too much crap; I mean cargo, in my coach.
    A 10-cubic-foot RV refrigerator is way too small when I load it.
    A 10-cubic-foot RV refrigerator is huge when my wife arranges its contents.
    I have learned that a cheap sewer hose and hot sand don't mix.
    I have also learned that a brown sprits bath from a sewer hose with hundreds of pin holes in it may be funny to a couple of people but not to me.
    .
    The day after you empty your overflowing special little parts drawer, you will open a cabinet, or crawl under a seat or something and then you will say, "Oh, that's what that strange little screw was for."
    Protect All really does work when used outside of its container.
    Washing and waxing a coach, aside from making it look nice, is great exercise.
    The day after washing and waxing my coach, I can't lift my arms above my head.
    I have learned that when a rear engine right access panel is open while going down the road, it makes your right turn signal and brake lights pretty much useless.
    All the above things are not so funny when you live through them, but then I think that one of my rules is about being patient. That is much easier to do if you have a well developed sense of humor. So if you don't have one of those, I suggest you learn where to get one!
    Try Wal-Mart, they have everything. Oh, Remember rule number 1!
  10. -Gramps-

    Living Small

    By -Gramps-,

    LIVING SMALL
    May 22, 2016 From my Blog:
    My rules for full time living in a small space, that happens to be on wheels. 
          LIVING SMALL-JUST CLICK HERE (but you knew that already!)
     
  12. -Gramps-
    It has certainly been awhile since I posted anything having to do with motor coaching. I guess I could just ignore that fact and just post like I don’t have a care in the world and no time has gone by at all since my last new entry. I won’t do that, however. I will tell you that Diane and I have managed to make it to some chapter campouts where we had some weekend fun with our fellow FMCA and Good Sam members, while still longing for a good long trip on the road.
    Three weeks or so ago we finally got our wish, sort of. We also got the opportunity to practice one of my rules for owning a MotorCoach.
    Rule number 2, to be exact: Keep your temper on a very short leash. Or, when owning a motor coach, patience is not only a virtue but a necessity.
    I had some time between jobs, so Diane and I took advantage of that fact and quickly packed up the coach for a trip to Florida to see our daughter and her family, which includes a brand-new grandson. For nine months we had been hoping and semi planning to take this trip, without knowing exactly what day we could leave, so when a chance came our way to take off, that is what we did.
    We left on April Fool’s Day. If I were a superstitious person, I might have chosen a different day to roll down the road.
    Our first stop was to be Greensboro, North Carolina. We needed to stop at Terry Labonte RV to repair a couple of things that had gone wrong with the coach. Maybe a better way to phrase it would be that we needed to fix things that were going wrong with the coach. We kept having this nerve-wracking alarm go off on a regular basis. It was a combination of an ABS alarm, a hydraulic brake alarm and an auto park failure. Alone, none of these alarms was much fun; together I figured that they were a recipe for big trouble. I was correct about that.
    Usually after this alarm would rear its ugly head -- which manifested itself as a bunch of flashing lights on the instrument console, sometimes accompanied by a very irritating unending beep -- I would pull over at the earliest safe spot and restart the engine. This would clear all the nasty little messages and lights and we would continue on our merry way.
    We were less than a mile from the intersection of U.S. 58 and I-85 South, when the alarm went off with a vengeance. I pulled off the road onto an access road to a closed Wal-Mart parking lot. We found ourselves between a bank and an Arby’s when I stopped, put the rig into "Park," shut off the engine, turned it back on with the hope of having all the noises and flashing lights gone, if not forgotten.
    Hoping does not always work. I restarted the engine, but the alarms were still very much there and the coach would not come out of "Park."
    We were stuck, broken down on the road.
    “Diane, we are not going anywhere today,” I told her.
    She and our dog, Teddy Bear, just looked at me with “What do we do now?” expressions on both their faces.
    I had no real idea what to do. It was Sunday, for Pete’s sake. There would be no one at Workhorse to answer the phone. We currently were not using a road side service, and even if we were, it was still Sunday.
    I called a friend, my daughter Jeri, and my parents. The first call was to Mike Pelchat, former Workhorse Ambassador and a person who knows quite a bit about the UFO chassis. We discussed a few possibilities about what was wrong and what to do about it. We both agreed there was not much we could do today.
    We sat and stared at each other for a while. I did turn on the inverter so we could watch a bit of TV to help pass the time. When dinner time arrived I walked over the Arby’s and purchased a Rueben for myself and a Turkey sandwich for Diane.
    At nine I extended curbside bedroom slideout and we hit the hay. We knew we needed to start making phone calls very early the next morning to tow companies, service centers and manufacturers, but not necessarily in that order.
    At nine thirty there was a knock at the door.
    “Who can that be?” asked Diane.
    I knew who it was. I opened the door to see two policemen standing on Arby’s grass.
    “Are you planning on sleeping here tonight?” one of the officers asked me.
    “Well, yes we are.” I responded. “But not by choice, we are broke down.”
    “Oh, sorry to hear that” said one of the officers. “You are planning to do something about not being here long?”
    I told them that I would be contacting a tow company in the morning and hopefully we would not be there long at all. I also told them it could have been worse….we could have been stuck at the stop light on 58. I hated to think how much fun that would have been, my coach blocking lots of trucks and cars on their way to who knows where.
    The officers told us that they were about to come off shift and would let the next one know our situation and they would keep an eye on us to make sure we were safe. I told them I appreciated that very much.
    I closed the door, locked both locks and went back to bed.
    I actually slept thru the night.
    The next morning we called Terry Labonte RV, and once transferred to RV and truck service, Pal Dojcsak the Service Manger answered the phone. I explained our situation, and Pal said the best tow company to pick up our rig and bring it to Greensboro and their shop would be Ray Harris towing. I called them and agreed to pay for a large bill.
    Now, I know it might have been best to have road side assistance, but that is something I did not have at the time. During a previous road side problem with our first coach, I found the roadside assistance that we had at the time (AAA with RV coverage) to not be much use towing a 36 foot motor home. First the call back took hours and when I finally did get a call; I was informed that there was no one available to tow the rig for days, if at all. Lucky for us we were able to continue on our way without a tow….but that is another story.
    So I never renewed, and did not subscribe to any other service. Plus I had heard of so many horror stories about towing pushers, (especially a UFO) that I figured if anything did happen; I, as the tow-ee would be better off choosing the tow-er myself instead of being locked into some network outfit.
    In theory and in practice I may have been correct.
    Andy, from Ray Harris Towing arrived on site at 10:45 about two and a half hours after I called. Once there he went to work. He attached the truck to the coach; I jacked up the back wheels so he could disconnect the drive shaft.
    Then things got a bit tricky. He asked me to take the coach out of park, and I told him that could not be done. The auto park would have to be manually disconnected and the instructions in the manual were not quite right.
    I made a second call to Mike Pelchat.
    Mike had the proper instructions for disconnecting the auto park on an R-26 coach. He talked to Andy and about thirty minutes later we were following our big silver box down the road.
    We arrived at Terry Labonte RV around one pm when we were hoping to be there early in the morning. Needless to say we lost our appointment time and had to go to the end of the waiting line.
    While we were waiting, Andy had to go pick up another coach. Some tow company had towed it to the wrong site (they took it to Terry Labonte's paint shop, which was some miles away). Andy went after it only to discover that the tow company driver neglected to disconnect the coach drive shaft. Hopefully the owners, who had a busted radiator, would not also have a busted transmission. Andy jumped a curb with the rear end of our coach, which scared me, but no damage was done. Other than that I think he did a great job of getting the big rig where it needed to go.
    We hung around the coach for the rest of the day. We had lunch, Diane read her Kindle and I walked over to the RV sales lot to just visit and try not to think about when we might be back on the road to Florida.
    Around four thirty we packed up the car and headed for the La Quinta just up the street. It was the only pet friendly place around, except for our coach, and we could not spend the night in there because it would be locked up behind a security fence.
    There isn’t much exciting to say about how we spent our time in Greensboro. It took four days to get the coach repaired. Late Tuesday afternoon, Bruce Sweeney and Jim Smoot discovered, with help from Eric McCann (who is also a friend of mine) at Workhorse that the ABS pump was, in layman’s terms blown, and would need to be replaced. That meant waiting for parts which in turn meant Thursday morning before the main repair could be made.
    So now I had the opportunity, once again, to practice my own rule number 2 for owning a Motorcoach. That rule almost needed to be tattooed on the palm of my hand, so I could see it a lot over the next few days.
    We had a not always pleasant night at La Quinta, however having a hot shower felt really good. We had carry out from Chick-Fill-A, which consisted of salad, sandwich and chicken noodle soup.
    We ended the evening with some TV and I spent the rest of night having nightmares about coaches being towed over curbs and rolling into ditches.
    The next morning we had the continental breakfast in shifts. Diane went first. I went next and brought some hard boiled eggs, yogurt, along with a biscuit and some pretty stiff gravy back to our room. .
    After eating we headed back to the service center just to check on the days agenda. There was not much to tell us as the coach had three others in front of it. We would not really know anything until very late in the day.
    We decided to kill some time at Camping World. I wanted Diane to take a look at the Rand McNally RV GPS and who knows; maybe we would find some bargains there as well.
    We went, we looked, and we did not buy the GPS because we had a gift card that we left behind in the coach. We visited the local Farmer's Market but nothing there grabbed our attention for long.
    We jumped back in the car and drove to Lexington, North Carolina where we planned to do two things: one. buy some locally made Conrad and Hinkle Pimento Cheese. It is the best Pimento cheese on the face of the earth. I love the stuff. We also planned on meeting my Mom and Dad for lunch and just spend some time together.
    We did just that. Diane, Teddy and I walked around downtown Lexington for awhile before Mom and Dad arrived. Then we had subs from the local Italian restaurant which we ate outside. I wanted a beer to go with them, but that was not possible because we were in a dry county. Oh well.
    After lunch we bought two quarts of Conrad and Hinkle, some ginger ale, I threw the cheese into a freezer bag along with some ice and we then went shopping. We visited a candy store located in a hundred year old building with creaky wooden floors. The hand made fudge was out of this world and Dad bought some for Diane.
    We said goodbye to Mom and Dad and drove back to Greensboro.
    We came back in the afternoon and our coach, at the last minute before closing, was moved out from the fenced area to a spot with power. We now had our home back to a useable state if not a drivable one. We were rescued from another night in a hotel. For awhile it looked like we were going to have to visit the La Quinta again. The tech was having problems with the auto park and connecting the system to read the codes. Having been told that, it sure was a relief to see the coach move to its parking spot.
    Bruce told us that he had been getting a lot of help from Eric at Workhorse.
    Wednesday the fourth of April was a very hot day. We had the coach all to ourselves that day and going somewhere did not appeal to us. Jeri, our daughter, checked into the hospital very early that morning. We had hoped to be there but obviously we were not. We would have to sit and wait for the arrival of our new grandson from the comfort of our coach while it sat in a parking lot.
    I decided to pass the time by cleaning our Vue. It really needed it. I washed it with Armor All extreme shine detailing stuff, vacuumed the carpets and shampooed them and everything else on the inside. During this time I decided that I needed some shade so I rolled out the electric awning and about half way out it made a loud banging noise and then fell open the rest of the way.
    That did not sound right, so I tried to retract it and it would not move.
    It was pretty obvious that the awning was broken. Oh well. I figured that it was small potatoes compared to a massive brake failure and it picked a good time to fail. We were parked in front of a repair facility, not going down the road. I walked into the office and informed Pal we had another problem. Pal sent Scott Frunzen, the same person who prepped the coach four years earlier, to come over and have a look. Scott discovered that the motor shaft was stripped. Another part would have to be ordered. Do want you have to do, was my response.
    I went back to cleaning my car.
    Around four, Pal stretched a garden hose a very long way over to our coach so that we could fill our fresh water tank. This took some time and while Pal and I were standing outside just shooting the breeze, Diane came out with some really good news.
    Gavin Thomas Wheeler came into the world just after four. Both mother and newborn boy were doing just fine. She then showed me a blurry picture on her not so smart phone.
    Pal, who has a set of very young twins at home, said congratulations.
    Not a bad ending to the day I guess. Before the day ended for the techs Scott had to roll a scaffold over to our coach so that he could roll up our awning and tie it off. A big storm was on its way.
    It rained like crazy that night with lots of thunder and lightning which Teddy hates as much as he does motorcycles.
    The highlight of our next day was a trip to Wal-Mart for some things, food and new cups along with a baby gift for our new grandson, whom we still hoped to see soon, and back to Camping World.
    We took advantage of Good Sam's roadside assistance being offered on sale on site. The staff member who helped us was well very helpful. We also purchased the Rand McNally RV 5510 gps.
    I was not happy with our old Garmin. It got us lost the first trip to Camping World. It kept turning us in circles because it did not recognize most of the streets we were on. I was ready to throw the thing out the sunroof along with my smart phone and Teddy Bear who kept barking at passing motorcycles. Diane was ready to throw me out the roof from fussing about the Garmin and the dog.
    On the way home Diane played with the new GPS (she loves it by the way) and we bought some Dunkin Doughnut blueberry Munchkin holes for the techs. We figured they would be more fun to hand out than cigars.
    Our coach was not in its spot when we arrived. We sat in the car and played with the GPS.
    We had some good news waiting for us, the ABS break pump had been replaced and the awing was now repaired as well. The next step was to bleed the brakes, which was a long, complicated and critical process. Once that was done the coach would be parked again and hopefully, the next morning we could be on our way.
    The brakes were bled successfully, the coach was taken on a test drive by Pal around the lot, and then they told me to take it for a longer one.
    I climbed into the coach. The generator was running so that Bruce’s laptop could stay connected and running which would allow it to capture any errors that the Engine Computer Module was generating.
    I took it for a spin and worked the brakes pretty hard. They felt great, like new.
    Everyone was happy with the result.
    The next day, Friday, the guys checked the coach air conditioning, which was not cooling. They discovered that it was low on coolant but there were no leaks and all was good to go once the system was recharged.
    We saw the coach come out again. We paid the bill, the part for the brakes was covered by Workhorse (thank you Eric!) we gladly paid for all the hard work the guys did, we had lunch and then at noon we hit the road. Almost.
    After eating lunch, I hooked up our tow only to discover that none of the lights would work. It took me awhile to realize that I had put the coach end of the electrical connection in the socket upside down. Stupid of me I know. Once that was fixed we were on our way.
    The guys at Terry Lobonte RV really came through for us... Eric McCann at Workhorse, Mike Pelchat, Andy from Harris Towing, they all played a huge part in getting us back on the road in time to see our new grandson.
    I can’t thank them enough.
    Well, my next post will be about the trip from Greensboro to Florida and back. It will be some fun reading with pictures. Hopefully I can keep the days straight. Stay tuned to this channel.
    Gramps.
  13. -Gramps-

    Here Be Dragons!

    By -Gramps-,

    It is commonly believed that early geographers used this phrase to mark the uncharted areas of their maps. They had not explored these areas and therefore assumed them to be dangerous. The actual wording was Hc Svnt Dracones. The mapmakers would put images of sea monsters on the edges of the map because it was the best way to say there is bad stuff “out there”.
    This past August 2nd I turned sixty years of age. I am now entering into uncharted territory. It is for me anyway. Others have been there before me and can offer me some advice as to what I shall be facing. When I was a newlywed man of nineteen, I was also moving into uncharted territory but I did not foresee trouble or hardship. I saw a bright future, full of promise with the hope of La dolce vita, the sweet life. In many, many ways at times, it has been just that, but there have been dragons to face along the way.
    The majority of us live our lives somewhere in between the sweet life and the habitation of dragons. We come into this world empty headed (and that is a good thing) and as we grow we learn that life has its pleasures and its pains. We get married, have kids, go to work, and have passion for it all, only to discover that we have to struggle at it. We have to slay the dragons of work or lack of it, sickness, losing loved ones, suffering financial setbacks.
    .
    I have said before that owning a motor coach can improve your life if you let it. Sometimes I think we have to spend a part of our life, including our bank balance, to improve our coach. It can become, if we are not careful, a dragon in the driveway.
    In July we headed to our spot in the mountains. We had hoped to leave our house by July 1, but were delayed a couple of days by business problems. Those problems were not easy to overcome but we did and we were happy to finally reach our lot and park.
    It rained almost every day for the next 19 days. In total our coach was soaked by thirty five inches of wet. One morning I discovered mushrooms growing out of the bottom of our main slideout. This caused me a few moments of uncertainty. The repair of the obvious leak didn’t go so well. I learned two things…..capillary action can cause a lot of mischief and use the right kind of screw when repairing a slide out floor or you might not get the slide out to slide in….or out.
    At the same time our Vue sunroof starting leaking. This required a trip to the local Chevy dealer where the problem was resolved for very little cost.
    After two days of repairing broken cables, drying out rotting wood and car carpeting I was thinking I was tired of feeding the dragon. However, the day after we repaired the coach and the car the sun came out.
    Diane, The Bear and I took a long ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway and we soon felt that life was kind of sweet again.
    We brought our coach home in late July. Soon after I learned that my daughter Jeri and her family would be coming up from Florida for my birthday. I was quite surprised and pleased to hear that. My kids threw me a surprise party. My Mom and Dad were there, my brother and his wife, and most unexpected our friends Gary and Janis, who I am always glad to see.
    I will see them tomorrow as a matter of fact.
    The four of us are hosting our FMCA chapter Christmas party/rally in December. The theme of this party is “It’s A Wonderful Life!” We plan to show the movie on Friday night along with food, including lots of popcorn, and beverages. Saturday Morning will be a big breakfast, and dress up Saturday night we will serve traditional Christmas fare. During dinner there will be a “It’s a Wonderful Life” quiz. A bell will ring a question asked and the table with the most correct answers will win the contest. The winner’s prizes will be determined later. Also we plan on having a reward for the best period costume. We want everyone that attends to dress like it is the forties or any other year that the movie takes place in. I think I expressed that the best way.
    This should be fun, if all goes well in the scheduling and preparation. If I have to keep some dragons at bay to do it I will.
    I look forward to all our chapter meetings. The one in December, I have to admit, I am looking forward to more than usual. I need it. I have a couple of dragon bites in my backside and that coming weekend in December will help to reduce the pain.
    It is a lot of work to try to make life (and that includes owning a motor coach) sweeter, all of us know that. It doesn’t get any easier with age now does it?
    Enjoy your life and your coach,
    Derrick.
    Gramps.
    PS Now that I have my fingers back on the keyboard again, I suspect that the gap of time will not be as long until I post again.
  15. -Gramps-
    You know the old saying; it's the Journey not the Destination.
    There is a church two doors down from us. The church allows us to hook up our tow in their parking lot and we leave from there. It is quite convenient. When Diane and I have a trip it starts for us the moment we leave the church parking lot. Actually it starts the moment we start packing up the coach, no, it starts the moment we start thinking about THE TRIP.
    The trip, made up of two important parts, the route, and the destination also know as the goal.
    So this is my lead in to:
    Rule number 3:
    Enjoy the View!
    Where are we going?
    What route do we take to get there?
    What do we need to take with us?
    How much time do we have?
    What will it cost?
    These are the questions I am sure we all ask ourselves. Some of us may worry over the answer to one or more questions more than others. Can we spend the money? Can we spend the time?
    Did you notice I used the word worry? Worrying and rving should be mutually exclusive, but it isn't. We worry over the price of gas, the temp in the fridge, the amount of air in the tires, along with lots of other things, including the time it takes to get where we think we want to be. It can be hard to just sit back and enjoy the view.
    The view. The one outside my great big windshield can be wonderful at times. I remember being on the Blue Ridge Parkway coming around Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina one crisp, cool, fall morning. The sky was a fantastic blue and the colors of the trees sucked the breath right out of me! The only thing I could say was Oh God! I meant it. I knew who painted that picture, the same person who painted the sunset over the Albemarle Sound and the light bouncing off the waves at Hatteras Island, the green rolling pastures of the Shenandoah Valley, and the majesty of the Smoky Mountains while heading down I-40. All of these had two things in common. They were made by God and they made me want to slow down and take a longer look.
    At night in the campground I play back the day's windshield views in my head. My mental slideshow. I look at them later after our trip is over and I am back to my daily routine of answering business calls and driving around fixing problems.
    Where am I going with this?
    Owning a motor home is a metaphor for life itself. We all have a destination, but we also only have one journey to get there. I encourage you to sit back, try to relax, and Enjoy the View!
    Remember rule number 1.









  16. -Gramps-

    A Different Perspective

    By -Gramps-,

    Woof!
    The last two entries of this blog have been kind of serious and sad. Too much for me, to tell you the truth. I think we should go back to having some fun. Gramps' rules for owning a motor coach, especially number four, are just that. So, in order to lighten things back up, I have decided to hijack this blog and post one entry for myself. I don't think Gramps (I know him as Dad, but he really is my person) will mind all that much.
    This entry is about Motor Coaching, but from a different perspective.
    I love traveling in the bus, as Mom (Diane to you) calls it. I love watching my people load the bus up with all kinds of interesting things. I think they carry too many things out there, but it isn't my place to suggest they may be over packing. I love to see what goodies they are bringing, especially the things that go into that big cold black box they call a fridge (it doesn't look like the fridge in the house!).
    Dad is a sucker for a couple of big brown eyes, so I usually end up sharing things like cheese and sardines with him. I love sardines. He split a beer with me once. I didn't like it. It tasted bitter and it made me sneeze. You may have read that on one occasion, he "shared" a lot of Turkey Soup with me. Now, that was a happening feast that a creature like me usually only gets to dream about!
    After awhile it makes me dizzy, all the trips out to the coach, boxes of cans, and crackers and clothes and stuff. I am always told to stay by the front door while they march back and forth to the coach parked in our driveway. After about 10 of these trips I can't stand it anymore, so I make a dash for the coach steps. Mom and Dad usually fuss at me a bit; sometimes they let me into the coach. Usually they send me back to the house. I will admit that I don't like that.
    When they finally get everything loaded, and checked and then double checked and I hear the word that it's time to hit the road, I am more than ready. At my age the steps can be a bit rough on the ol' back legs, but I get excited and take them two at a time. I have one responsibility, so the first thing I do is head to the back of the bus where a big white container with an air-tight lid is stored. That is my supply of chow and it better be there. The trouble is, I have not figured out how to let the folks know if it isn't. Well, so far after five years of checking, I haven't needed to. But you never know, there could be a first time!
    Moving down the road in the coach is great. I sit on Mom's lap and that gives me a terrific view out of our huge windshield. I love the air that blows on me, too. Dad makes it cold somehow. He must be a genius. Mom doesn't always like it as frigid as Dad, but with me on her lap she puts up with it.
    Sometimes I push a button next to Mom's seat just to see what happens. Usually Dad will say something like, "Why is your map light on?" or "Hey, what's going on ... the shades are coming down!" He gets really excited when the step cover starts opening on its own.
    I sometimes get sick in the car. I don't know if that is because it is a small moving space or if it is because sometimes I do not care for where it takes me, like to see Miss Vickie, that woman who hoses me down and then sticks a blow dryer in my face! But, the coach is a very different thing. It is relaxing. I can get down from my perch on Mom's lap; sleep on the couch or on my pillow on the floor or just grab some water if I want it. Try that in a big truck pulling a trailer ...
    Oh, arf ... I have to end this for just a minute. I hear Dad coming down the hall and I do not think he would be pleased to see me messing with his computer. He yells at the cat when she jumps on the keyboard, and yells really loud when he is writing at the time. Oh, in case you were wondering, the cat never travels with us. She hates the coach and would just hack up a big yellow hairball or two and leave them on the dash, right where I like to sit. Got to go ...
    I am back!
    I am not sure what else I can tell you. This is my first dog blog, after all, and writing is not that easy. Let me think of something else, oh ...
    I have enjoyed most all the places we have been. I love visiting rallies with lots of other coaches (hey, I get invited in all the time!) I love meeting other people, both two and four leggers. I love hiking with Mom and Dad on a trail through the mountains. The smells are exciting. I like the ocean, well running on the beach to be precise, the water I don't care for. Now when we travel to the beach, my Mom gets out my (I don't claim it!) tropical shirt and puts it on me. I can stand the shirt, but the hat ... one day when no one is looking I plan to chew that thing into tiny pieces!
    My favorite place to travel to in the motor coach is, for the most part, wherever my people are headed, but there is one stop that is really great: our new home in the mountains. It is the one place where I get to run around without my leash, and the other people there ... well, they are wonderful friends to my people. I have a friend there as well. Her name is Godiva. At mealtimes, everyone shares all kinds of tasty things with us both. I do prefer Dad's cooking. Now I am thinking about that soup again!
    I need to wrap this up, so:
    Here are my rules for owning a motor coach:
    Do not leave home without the dog in the coach.
    Do not leave home without the dog's food in the coach.
    Do not leave home without the dog's food bowl in the coach.
    Do not leave home without the dog's water bowl in the coach.
    Do not leave home without the dog's treats in the coach.
    Do not leave home without the dog's leash. It makes the person I am leading feel safer.
    Do not leave home without the poopy bags. I don't really care, but Mom and Dad don't think I should leave stuff on the trail for some reason.
    Go figure.
    Nickolas

    I hate the hat. But I love Mom!
  18. -Gramps-

    A Premonition?

    By -Gramps-,

    Yesterday morning started out normal, almost. I woke up with the memory of a disturbing dream. I was walking Nickolas, our cocker spaniel, down a long faded green hall. It reminded me of an old high school corridor, or maybe an old office building. It had a polished dirty brown vinyl tile floor. There were exposed fluorescent lights, the long two-lamp kind that flicker and make a lot of ballast noise. At the end of the hall was a metal door with a reinforced glass window in the top half. The bottom of the door had one of those metal kick plates. It seemed to be dented and had black marks on it. The door that opened into the hall was slightly ajar. The hall was long and Nickolas seemed impatient; he kept tugging at his leash. As the door got closer he suddenly jerked the leash out of my hand and went running for the door, with me right behind him, calling to him. Just as I was about to grab his leash he made it through the door, leash and all, and it slammed shut. I tried to open it but it was locked. The window, which had until now been dark, began to glow with a white light. I put my face up to it and could see a huge wall-less white space. There were many, many dogs in there, all kinds, most of them white, running back and forth, jumping around, some chasing each other. I desperately looked for my dog and caught a glimpse of him just as he was headed deeper into this space. I called to him but there was no reaction. I started kicking the bottom of the door and banging on the glass but it didn't do any good. The window went dark and I woke up.
    Diane was standing by the bed with Nickolas' leash in her hand. It was time for him to go to the vet to get his teeth cleaned and while under the anesthesia to also have this large fatty lump removed from his left side. Both these procedures were routine. He had been through it all before some four years earlier. Diane wasn't worried about it; she had been pushing me to get it done. My only objection was the cost, but then I object to the cost of most things in life. As I set there in the bed, the money wasn't what was worrying me.
    I reached over to Nickolas and said a quick prayer.
    "Do you want me to go with you?" I asked.
    "No, we will be fine... won't we, pup?" Diane responded as she snapped on the leash.
    "We are late, better get moving."
    An obviously reluctant Nickolas jumped off the bed. A few seconds later I heard the front door squeak and click shut.
    "I have a bad feeling about this," I told myself. However, it could just be an overactive imagination.
    At about 8:15 a.m., I was sitting where I am now, at my computer when Diane arrived back at the house. She told me that Nick would be at the vets until about 5 p.m. They were not sure when his procedure would start, but it might be early afternoon.
    At around 10 a.m. the phone rang. Diane answered it after seeing Churchland Animal pop up on the caller ID, which displays on our TV. I heard her talking and gathered something was wrong, so I went into the living room and sat down in front of her.
    It seems that they almost lost our dog while on the table. Usually the procedure is to give an injection to make him still and kill any pain, and then they administer a gas once the injection takes effect. They did that this time, but just after the injection his heart rate doubled. It went from 128 beats per minute to over 260 beats per minute. A momentary heart rate spike is not unusual, but this time his heart rate would not come down. After two minutes of this, even after the gas was started, they could not bring it down. They had to bring him out before his heart arrested. The vet, to use his words, was starting to feel a bit panicky himself. Nickolas gave him a scare, but by the time they called us his heart rate has started to come down and they expected it be back to normal shortly. He was alert, but panting a lot, and they wanted to keep him a few more hours to observe him. Diane asked a few questions, but they had no real answers to what happened. They could only surmise that maybe his heart had an electrical malfunction, or he had a reaction to the pain meds, although he had not had one four years earlier. The cause was just not known.
    Diane said thank you, hung up the phone, and broke down in tears.
    I was shocked, but then I realized I must have known something was going to happen.
    As usual, when I don't understand something, I jumped on the Internet and started searching. Could this have been caused by some medication that Nickolas has been taking? Or could he have an enlarged heart, a condition called DCM that cockers can get when they get older? What caused us to almost lose our best little friend?
    I don't know. I suspect it will not be easy to find out. I do know that God answered my prayer: He looked after Nickolas.
    Neither Diane nor I are prepared to live without him.
    The vet called back around 3 p.m., and this time I took the call. Nickolas' heart rate was back to normal, but the doctor said he would still like to observe him for a couple more hours and then we could come for him.
    After and anxious two-hour wait and a short drive to the vet's office, we picked up our pup at five o'clock. We first had a talk with the Doctor, who pretty much reviewed what he had told us on the phone.
    Nickolas came out of the back, very happy to see us, and we were overjoyed to see him.
    He hopped in the car, and we went to a local Red Box to rent a comedy, because we needed a laugh after the day's events. We also picked up a cooked chicken and some side salads at the local Kroger. The smell of the chicken drove Nickolas, who had been on a fast from the night before, crazy. I think that was a good sign.
    As of this morning our dog isn't quite is old self yet. He seems a bit groggy and tired. It's no wonder, after what he has been through. He is probably wondering what he did to deserve a day like yesterday, but like most dogs he will forgive us pretty quickly.
    When we leave on our next RV trip, I am sure he will be where he always is, on his mom's lap, looking out the big window at the passing world.
    Thank God for that.
  19. -Gramps-
    It was an amazingly (is that a word?) fun thing to watch that ball zoom over the fence, but I, we, still have a game to win.

    The Last Inning (The Giants and the Phillies-Part Two)
    Once again, I have to corral all my players back into the dugout. They are still whooping and hollering and Chris is really pleased with himself.
    "Did you see that coach, did you see that? Blam! Right over the fence. Sorry I hit your van, coach."
    I hadn't noticed that the ball bounced off MY car!
    "Hey, that's okay," I said. "I'm just glad that you hit it out of the park, it was great. Now take a seat and let's win this game."
    Chris ducks inside of the dugout, but before he sits down he grabs the wire fence, gives it a good shake like a caged animal and yells at the Giant's pitcher.
    "Hey Pitch! That's what you get for laughing at me!"
    The whole park hears that outburst.
    I can't let that go, so I turn around.
    "That is not necessary, Chris. We don't gloat. It is not good sportsmanship. You will apologize to the pitcher now."
    "Sorry Pitch!" Chris yells again.
    "Coach, you need to get your team under control!"
    "No problem Blue, I am taking care of it."
    I ask myself, "What is the ump's problem? He seems to be a bit slow today."
    "Chris, after the game you make sure you shake the Pitcher's hand. Understand?"
    Chris, looking a bit deflated, sits down.
    The ump walks over and hands something to Chris.
    It is the home run ball.
    "Great hit, kid."
    Chris's face lights up.
    "Thanks, Ump!"
    The ump nods and says "Batter up!"
    I send Jeffery to the plate and tell him to go get a hit.
    Jeffery, grinning, jogs over to the batter's box.
    "Play Ball!" yells the ump as he pulls down his mask.
    Jeffery stands there and takes six pitches, three are strikes, without moving his bat a bit.
    Bottom of the fifth
    Phillies 8, Giants 2
    I do not want to let my team relax too much. This is Little League. Earlier in the season the Cubs scored seven runs on us in the top of the first. We beat them 20 to seven. We could have scored more if the 13-run mercy rule had not stopped us. Things can happen, so I just want to shut the Giants down and end this.
    As Joel heads out to the mound I tell him to keep on pitching the same way he's been doing it. He nods at me.
    The Giants leadoff is a big lefthander. Joel throws the first pitch a bit outside, and the batter fouls it back. Joel throws to the same spot. This time the kid looks at it.
    Ball one.
    Chris, who is now catching for Joel, shifts and gives Joel an inside target. Joel throws; the batter swings and takes it for a base hit over CJ's head to right-center field. Both Jeffery and Ian make a mad dash for the ball.
    I swear, because they argue over who is going to get it. By the time they figure it out, the runner is way past first.
    Ian tosses to CJ, who turns toward third, but there is no play.
    The leadoff is safely on third.
    "Shake it off Joel, no big deal, just get the batter!"
    Giving up a triple does not faze Joel. He throws his next three pitches for strikes. The batter goes down looking at the third one.
    One down and two to go. Play is at first but we have to guard the plate.
    The next batter goes for the first pitch. He hits a high pop over the first base line. Chris is on his feet in a second, follows the ball and catches it in front of the bleachers. He turns and looks at the third base runner.
    Two outs and one to go.
    I don't know how Joel is doing it, but he bears down and throws three hard inside fastballs. He makes the batter look like a deer caught in the headlights. Three pitches, three strikes, backwards K.
    The Inning is over.
    That triple was the best hit the Giants have had all day and Joel made sure it counted for nothing.
    Top of the Sixth
    The Score is still Phillies 8, Giants 2.
    Shawn leads off. He fouls the first pitch (good for him!) and then takes four straight pitches, all balls.
    Jonathan is up next. First pitch is a ball, second pitch outside for ball two. The third pitch hits my batter right in the helmet. It doesn't bug him a bit as he jogs happily to first.
    The pitcher and Zac get into a bit of battle. Zac fouls off the first two. The pitcher throws two for two balls. Zac fouls off another one and the pitcher heaves two more pitching errors. Zac heads to first.
    WC virtually repeats Zac's at bat and earns a walk with no place to put him.
    Shawn comes home.
    Phillies 9, Giants 2
    TJ walks on five pitches, and Jonathan scores run number 10.
    Ian, well Ian just stands there and swings and misses the last pitch he gets, the third one.
    The Giants have one out on us. They are now facing the top of our order with bases loaded. Not good for them. Not good at all.
    The Giants pitcher knows things are not good and that knowledge must make him really nervous. His first pitch hits Matt in the side, and he reaches first as Zac crosses home plate.
    Phillies 11, Giants 2.
    Matt is on first, TJ on second and good ole WC on third. CJ, who is on deck, moves to the plate.
    I am standing behind the backstop just in front of the first base side dugout. I can see WC on third base and I am watching him and my other runners. They are set and ready to run on contact.
    CJ can hit and I know he wants this one bad. He fouls the first pitch. He hits the second one to the outfield past first base but it lands foul.
    Everyone on my side of the field is yelling so loud it hurts my ears.
    The next throw is in the dirt. The catcher scrambles for the ball. The pitcher runs in to cover the plate.
    My third base coach is waving WC home, but he hesitates.
    What is he waiting for? Run!
    WC breaks for home but that seconds hesitation may cost him.
    The catcher throws the ball to the pitcher, who steps in front of the plate just as WC runs into him. They go down together. The pitcher comes up showing the ball.
    "He's out!" Yells blue.
    WC gets up and starts arguing with the ump.
    "He was holding me!"
    I walk over as my third base coach comes running in, grabs the umpire and points back to the Giant on third base.
    "Ump, he grabbed my runner's shirt! WC would have been safe!"
    The Giants coach is now out of his dugout and we have a real "situation" here.
    "Come on, Ump, this is crazy."
    My base coach is not going to take this.
    "Ump, I am telling you. My guy was interfered with."
    The Ump looks at everyone.
    "I didn't see it. The runner's out!"
    WC looks very unhappy. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it toward third base.
    The Ump takes one look at that and tosses him out of the game for unsportsmanlike conduct.
    My base coach just shakes his head. My parents and players are booing the umpire.
    I tell everyone on the bench we still have one out left and the bases are loaded.
    I tell WC that he did great the whole game, but he should not throw his helmet or his bat.
    He tells me he is sorry.
    I was feeling bad about the Giants situation, but after treating WC like that, I have lost my sympathy.
    First base is open, with two outs.
    I grab CJ.
    "Look, it's 1 and 2, with two outs. Get on first anyway you can."
    "You got it, Coach."
    CJ is a team player. I know he wants the big home run, but now he settles down to business.
    The pitcher doesn't. He throws four straight balls. CJ is on first, bases are loaded again.
    "Way to watch em CJ!"
    Joel is up. He wants to round the bases and he will wait for the pitcher to make a mistake again.
    It is a battle, but Joel has the first pitch advantage. It is a ball way outside. The second one Joel fouls off. He fouls off the third. The count is 1 and 2. The fourth pitch comes in, low and inside, ball two.
    Joel steps out of the box. He adjusts his gloves, takes a couple of swings and steps back in. Here comes the pitch, way high for Ball three.
    The Giants coach calls time. His pitcher walks over to the base path. I can't hear what is being said but both the coach and his player look agitated.
    They don't want another walk, they only need one out, so they need to put the ball in play and get the easy out.
    Here we are again, 3 and 2. Pitcher throws and Joel fouls it. Pitcher throws again, same result.
    The tension is thick in the air, spectators on both sides are yelling to their players. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, waiting for the next pitch.
    This game is really fun. My son is up to bat. What could be better than that?
    The next pitch is slow and hangs over the plate. Joel hits it and runs for first. My base runners take off at the same time. It is a long, slow fly into left right field. It lands between the two outfielders; both are running for the ball. By the time they get there Joel is halfway to second base. TJ crosses home plate. The Giants second baseman is frozen on the base path. Joel pushes him out of the way and crosses second. Matt, between second and third, needs to pick it up or Joel is going to run into him and CJ. I see the throw coming in as the second baseman wakes up. He takes a couple of steps into the outfield to catch it. Joel is almost at third. Matt and CJ make it home.
    My players start pouring out of the dugout.
    The Giants bench is yelling to the infield.
    "Throw it home! Throw it home!"
    Joel rounds third. He might not make it! The throw comes in but it is way too high. It sails over the catcher's head.
    The Phillies rush home plate and surround Joel as he crosses it. The folks in the bleachers are jumping up and down. The guys practically carry Joel off the field.
    Phillies 15, Giants 2.
    We have a 13-run lead. Mercy Rule is in effect. The game is over.
    Not quite yet.
    The Giants coach rushes out of the dugout yelling at his catcher, who has retrieved the ball, to tag the plate. He is claiming Joel didn't touch home. Joel says he did. Joel's team was all around him, so I couldn't see the plate at all.
    The Ump just stands there.
    "Blue, I'm telling you he didn't touch the plate." says the Giants coach.
    I am thinking that I would never pull this kind of stunt on his team. There is no way that the ump is going to call out a kid who just scored an inside the park grand slam.
    "Runner's out!" The Ump yells.
    "Come on Ump, he ran all over that plate and everybody knows it!" My third base coach is getting mad.
    The Ump has made his call.
    "Play Ball!"
    Back in the dugout I lean down to Joel.
    "You did step on the plate didn't you?"
    "Yea coach, I did. I know I got a home run ... but its okay, we are having fun, let's just play ball."
    "So what you are saying is; let's give them one more at bat and show em what we are made of?"
    "Yea, coach, we don't let up, Joel will get em!" says Matt.
    I am very proud of my team and we are having fun.
    What could be better than that?
    "Okay. Phillies hit the field!"
    They run out of the dugout with a yell. A couple of parents come over to me, including Diane.
    I walk with them back to the bleachers and shrug my shoulders at the parents.
    "Hey coach, what are going to do about that?" one father asks me.
    "Nothing, the guys want to keep playing."
    They did. With his team yelling the whole time and the Phillies fans adding to the noise, Joel worked three Giants batters, including two from the top of the order, to a 2 and 2 count before he struck them all out. The last two went down without swinging. With the last out the team gives Joel a hugh cheer.
    The game between the Giants and the Philles is now officially over.
    Phillies win 14 to 2.
    The scorekeeper from the Giants walks over to Diane to compare scores.
    Diane looks at him.
    "I don't know how you are scoring it, but my son got a grand slam."
    "Yeah, he did and he also got three up and three down, quite a kid you have there."
    "Thank you" is her smiling response.
    Joel got his grand slam (off the record), and Chris got his big home run. I coached a game that, obviously, I would never forget.
    Years later, a few days after Joel was graduated from William and Mary, Diane, Joel, Nickolas and myself were staying in our motor coach at the Stone Mountain RV Resort outside Atlanta, Georgia. One day, during our stay, at around 5 p.m. Joel and I were sitting just above first base at Turner Stadium (named for my old boss) in Atlanta. We were watching the Braves take on the Florida Marlins. It wasn't a very exciting game but it was a beautiful June night. Like that time from years before, I was at a baseball game with my son. We were having fun.
    What could be better than that?

  20. -Gramps-

    Warming up the coach

    By -Gramps-,

    Well, it is supposed to get down to 18 degrees tonight around here. I have the wet bay heater running. I bypassed the snap fuse and replaced it with a 30-amp auto fuse. There is a 120-volt heater running in the cargo bay next to the hot water heater. I have 4 inches of insulation stuffed in the fridge access, with the ice maker water supply disconnected. I have insulation in the wet bay and more in the fresh water tank compartment. A second ceramic heater is running in the coach with all the cabinets and shower doors open. The furnace is set at 40 degrees. Right now it is 35 outside and the coach is at 69 inside. I think I should be safe. I don't want to loose my water pump and ice maker solenoid again, so I decided to stay ahead of this cold snap.
    Gramps
  21. -Gramps-

    The Rally

    By -Gramps-,

    When I write a blog entry about a current trip in our coach, I tend to just write it in a matter of fact style, like the following:
    Well a lot has happened in the last week. Diane and I hosted an FMCA chapter rally at the Deer Creek RV Resort in Galax, Virginia during the last weekend of July. The campground Is located just across the golf course from our home at the Deer Creek Motorcoach resort. Some people call the golf course Derrick's Nine Holes, because I am the person who plays there the most.
    We had fifteen coaches from the Colonial Virginians show up for the rally.
    The rally went great, for the most part. We arrived on Wednesday evening and our fellow Colonial Virginians started arriving on Thursday afternoon. Thursday morning Diane and I did a lot of shopping at the local Wal-Mart (where else would we go?) for lots of stuff to provide a full meal for everyone on Friday night. We left the store with hamburgers, hot dogs, sausages, potato salad, cole slaw, baked beans, cookies and a lemon cake. Our co-hosts Bob and Stephanie planned breakfast for Saturday and Sunday Mornings. For Saturday morning breakfast, we had French toast sticks, pancakes, sausage, and fruit. Sunday was a continental breakfast with Danish, Bagels and Saturday's breakfast leftovers. Saturday night everyone went to a wine and cheese party at the Deer Creek Motorcoach Resort (Not the one in Florida) clubhouse. That was followed by a pot-luck supper. We had a golf tournament planned for Saturday Morning but due to drizzle and fog we had to cancel. Those who planned on playing didn't mind. We all enjoyed the cool mountain weather, which was a nice change from the terrible heat back home.
    Not much emotion or story in the above. Let me try to add some of that for you.
    I have been working pretty hard lately. No days off for some six weeks and that includes July fourth. Even with all those work days I have still been under quite a bit of stress to get it all my projects done. I know, that seems to be a recurring theme in my blogs: Stress. It seems to be the nature of my business and my nature to let stress sometimes get the best of me. I am working on correcting that. I would like to save the best of myself for my God, my dear wife, my kids, my rving friends as well as other friends and of course, my dog.
    Unfortunately there wasn't much of the best part of me on the day we left for the rally. We pulled out a bit late in the morning, and just as we hit the road I discovered, actually Diane informed me, that she turned off the fridge because it was alarming. There was no propane flowing to it, even though our tank was full. At the same time I discovered that the dash air was not cooling. These two problems started to make me hot. I asked her why she didn't tell me this before we left. She said she didn't want to bother me, I was getting customer calls all morning and she didn't want to add to my problems.
    Add to my problems? No dash air, the propane is not working? How could that add to my problems?
    I knew that the immediate, but temporary solution to this was to turn on the generator. This would allow us to run the fridge and the roof air, but all I could think about is how much is this going to cost me to get these problems fixed? I stared to over think this situation and this fueled my soon to get worse state of mind. After all it was going to be one of the hottest days of the year with no dash ac. I just got back from a long trip to Elkhart to fix the slide and now two more problems. When will it end?
    Maybe my blood sugar was low from skipping breakfast. Maybe I was just worn out from all the work pulling cables through hot fiberglass insulated ceilings for days on end. Maybe it was because this has been a tough year to find work, get it done and then get paid for it. Maybe it was because I was worried about our dog, who was scheduled for surgery the Friday after the rally. Maybe it was all the above.
    I lost it. I ranted about my business, the coach, and only God knows for most of the drive to Galax. Diane, bless her heart, just sat there and hardly said a word. She just let me vent. I don't remember most of what I said. I am sure it wouldn't be worth repeating anyway.
    When we started to climb I-77 just north of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, I finally calmed down. I looked over at Diane and apologized for being such a jerk. She had tears running down her cheeks and she managed to mouth the words, "its okay" to me.
    I didn't say another word until we reached the gate to the Motorcoach Resort. Diane pushed the remote, the gate opened, we drove through and it was like a switch was thrown. I started to feel better. We set up "camp". It was after six thirty by the time we finished. We went to dinner with our neighbors Judy and Gordy. They both noticed that I was looking a bit ragged, and Diane calmly told them I had been working hard lately, to put it mildly.
    For most of the night I lay awake thinking about the day's drive.
    The next morning I was swamped with phone calls from multiple offices belonging to one customer. Diane and I were at the Wal-Mart at the time, I was shopping for golf balls when the first call hit me. The problem was not with my equipment, it was with their internet provider. I told them that, but they wanted me to take care of it because they didn't know how to talk to the great big nasty internet company.
    It took me until eleven pm that night making phone calls, but I did get the ball rolling to solve the problem for them.
    Friday I was determined to give all my attention to the rally. I managed to do that. I helped people check in, set up tables, did a bit of decorating, set up a sun canopy and my grill. I cooked forty some hamburgers while Bob did the dogs.
    We had a great meal for everyone. The food was good and the service was quick. Afterwards we talked about the golf and mini golf match, and reminded everyone where Saturday's meal would be served. I was beat and left for the coach while Diane played tiles.
    Saturday's breakfast was great. Saturday's weather wasn't. It rained all day. Actually I think it rained the next three days off and on. I wanted to have the golf match but what's a little rain when you are in the Blue Ridge Mountains? We all made the best of it. Some people went sightseeing; some just sat around and talked. I sat around and listened to the people chat. I wanted to be reminded that the world isn't just about me. That is one of the ways owning a coach has improved my life, by allowing me to be involved in other lives outside of work. It's like medicine to me. I need to remember that.
    Saturday night we had the wine and cheese party. I answered questions about Galax and the surrounding area. I also answered questions about the resort.
    After dinner I provided some minor entertainment. I told them all about my FMCA blog with its rules for owning a motor coach and then I read rule four to them. I will remind you that rule four is "Owing a motor coach is a never ending learning experience". Rule four also includes a bunch of one liner, truisms, that some people find quite funny. Fortunately all the guests at dinner did the same.
    Sunday morning was foggy but not for long. By noon most everyone had left. Everyone said they had a great time and hoped to return next year.
    Monday, August second, was my fifty seventh birthday. The best thing about it was that I wasn't working. We didn't do much that day but sit around the coach, do a bit of walking, and we went to dinner in town. The food wasn't all that good but the company was great.
    The next day Diane and I drove into Sparta North Carolina and found something that we both liked. A store with Columbia clothes on sale for half price. I bought a bunch of nice things. We came home and ate leftover hamburgers, watched a bit of TV and called it a day.
    Wednesday had a different feel about it. Diane wanted to do laundry and clean up the coach a bit. She planned on leaving the next day for Raleigh, NC to stay with her cousin Elaine. From there she would take Nickolas to the NC State School of Veterinary Medicine. Nickolas was scheduled to have a malignant tumor removed from his side. This could be an extensive operation with loss of some chest wall and some sections of ribs.
    I planned on staying behind to work on the Motorcoach resort's WIFI. That was okay by me considering how much I dislike hospital waiting rooms.
    I had already ordered a new high powered access point that hopefully would broadcast to the fartest end of the resort. Diane left with Nickolas just after lunch, so I found myself all alone.
    I made arrangements to borrow an extension ladder and so just after Diane left I was at the top of it mounting the new transmitter. All was going okay until a big thunderstorm came out of nowhere. Lightening chased me off the ladder. The rain started coming down in buckets and then we lost power.
    I managed to mount the transmitter but without power I was done. My WI-FI install would have to wait.
    Fridays are usually pretty quiet for me. Not many phone calls. The Friday of Nickolas surgery was no exception. This was a good thing. I wasn't in the mood to talk much anyway. I thought our pup was going to be in the OR early, but it didn't happen until six that night. He came out around nine. Diane called me to say that everything went well. The doctors wanted to keep him there until Monday. My time in isolation would be a bit longer than expected.
    I didn't do much the next two days. I finished a book, watched some movies, made some minor repairs to the coach roof and unstopped the propane line. That was about it.
    Diane and Nickolas arrived back here at Deer Creek about two hours ago. The poor pup looks a bit scarred and stapled but he is doing well considering.
    We will be here a few more days. We need to give the dog a bit more time to recuperate before we head back to the heat in Tidewater. Once we get there its back to business, the coach will stay parked for a couple more months. I do need to get some Freon for the dash AC.
    Didn't I mention that? According to our resident RV doctor, there is nothing wrong with the dash AC that a good dose of Freon can't fix. It seems I got upset over almost nothing.
    I am working on that.
  22. -Gramps-
    Rule 4: Owning a motor coach is a never-ending learning experience -- continued.
    Well, I had so much fun coming up with a list of things that I have learned over the five years that my wife and I have been motorhoming, I figured why not write down a few more? So here goes:
    I have learned that men need a precise set of directions when parking the coach.
    And women know just how to give them. For example:
    "I SAID STOP! STOP! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT STOP MEANS?"
    "DON'T BACK UP, YOU WILL HIT IT AGAIN!"
    "NO, NO, YOUR OTHER RIGHT!"
    "JUST LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE DONE NOW!"
    It's always the other person's fault when you miss your exit or hit a tree.
    The people camping next to you will find out first that you forgot to shut your black tank valve.
    My grandkids think the term "stinky slinky" is really funny.
    My wife doesn't like the way our all-in-one washer-dryer ties HER underwear into knots.
    A small speed bump can throw dishes around the coach. A big speed bump throws the dog around the coach.
    Old tube socks make great bottle savers; just make sure they are clean. I'm talking about the socks.
    Don't drive on the zipper, it's scary and you may lose a lug nut cap.
    While going down the road, I don't like hearing, "What the heck was that noise!?". even when I am the one saying it.
    If Wal-Mart doesn't have it, I must not need it.
    It burns me when the RV spots at Cracker Barrel have a car parked in them.
    It burns me even more when the RV spots at Camping World have a car parked in them.
    Sometimes when driving under an overpass, I get the urge to duck!
    My wife will not let me stop at South of the Border and buy anything.
    It's been over a year since we purchased our coach and I am still finding loose screws floating around inside.
    If you don't pack up your patio the night before you leave, it will rain.
    Quick disconnects are great on the water hoses except when you forget to turn off the water before disconnecting.
    I have learned that:
    Before pulling out of a campground, if your generator is off and your roof air is running, you may have forgotten to do something.
    I have a very tough shore power surge protector. How do I know? Because I dragged it down the road once and it still works great!
    I believe that some interiors of motor coaches were designed by people who smoke something more than just tobacco.
    At some point during a long trip I will bang my head on a slideout. It's going to happen, I might as well get used to it.
    The dash AC is always too cold for the pilot and not cold enough for the copilot, or vice versa.
    Most coaches have the dash radio positioned where no one can easily read it or adjust it (without falling out of your seat).
    I would rather be out in my coach than take a cruise or a trip to Europe. That's good, because I own a motorhome and can't afford to take a cruise or a trip to Europe.
    A bad day motorhoming beats a day at home in bed with a kidney stone (I had one of those two weeks ago).
    Fuel is always too expensive no matter what the price per gallon.
    A Ham and cheese sandwich in my motor coach at a rest stop on the way to somewhere tastes better than it does at home.
    I have learned that when I am home (in the stick house) I am always counting the days until I am on the road again with my beautiful wife and the pup.
    Feel free to comment and add to this list of "learned" things.
    Oh, Remember Rule Number 1!
  23. -Gramps-

    Who Is Rescuing Who?

    By -Gramps-,

    Or is it Whom? Never mind.
    I can't remember the exact quote, but at the end of the movie Seabiscuit, there is a line something like this:
    We may have saved a banged up life, but the truth is we found each other and he saved us. The truth is we may have saved each other.
    The words printed above are most likely very misquoted, but still, that line describes what has been going on around my house for the last three weeks. Diane and I took a simple trip in the coach, found a dog who has been moved from place to place, took him in and our lives have gotten better, so much better since. So the question is: who is rescuing who?
    Mr. Beasley formerly named Bailey, now known officially as Theodore Beasley Parker but lovingly called and answers to "Teddy Bear"; is now a wonderful member of our little family.
    Teddy loves the cat, can't wait for Joel to get home each day, loves flushing birds out of the bushes in the back yard, likes to front paw counter surf (we are working on that), can't stand going into his crate, but settles down quickly, loves yogurt (don't tell Diane that I share it with him), loves to go on walks, needs to be groomed, loves Diane's heart shaped home made dog biscuits, and is fascinated by all her Christmas snowmen.
    According to his paper work, he is three years old, almost. He seems more like two. He has high energy, runs around the house, zooms around the yard, watches the Dog Whisperer and when a dog on the TV goes off screen, Teddy runs and looks behind the set trying to see where it went. He makes us laugh. He is medicine for our souls.
    Teddy has separation anxiety. He howls when one of us leaves the house. We are working on that as well. He doesn't like being groomed but Diane, with a handful of liver treats, is successfully helping him overcome his dislike of that activity.
    It is so obvious that the two of them are developing a very close relationship.
    There have been a few rough moments in the last three weeks but nothing all that dramatic. He snapped at the lady vet who was checking him out the day before we decided to adopt him. A trainer at the vet's office thought he might have some aggressive tendencies, but I disagree. I think Teddy is just simply afraid. He was boarded for long periods of time at a vet clinic while his owners traveled for days to football games and such. He has been left for weeks at Doggie Day Care facilities. I think he thought he was about to be left behind..again.
    We have no intentions of ever leaving him with anybody until he knows that we will be coming back to get him.
    The day after Christmas we are heading to St Augustine. The three of us are looking forward to that long coach trip. We will be celebrating the arrival of the New Year while walking the beach. The next day, we are off to Fort Wilderness for five days. Nickolas loved that place.
    I am sure that Teddy will too.
    Teddy had no idea how his life was about to change that Saturday after Thanksgiving when we saw this long legged dog for the first time. We had no idea how our lives would improve when we took him in to live with us.
    So the answer to the question is obvious. We are rescuing each other.


  25. -Gramps-

    Signs

    By -Gramps-,

    If you are a regular reader of my blog you know that I enjoy the idea that motor homing is a metaphor for life.
    It is day four of a new year. How is this year going to be? That is certainly one question I don’t have the answer to. I am sure that many people would like to know what the future holds even if that knowledge is only about the next twelve months.
    When I was a kid I remember that there were a number of celebrity prognosticators that would make all kinds of predictions about the future. They predicted who would win the World Series, or who would win some national election or there would be an earthquake in Los Angeles that wipes out half the city. My dad used to say they would shotgun their so called prophesies. In other words make enough of them and maybe one or two might just happen.
    In my later years I would hear all kinds of people, including preachers and televangelists, predict that the world was about to end and that there would be all kinds of signs including famine, wars and an earthquake that would wipe out half of Los Angeles, foretelling and warning us of that coming event.
    The year 2000 was supposed to cause all kinds of terrible things to happen. Planes were going to fall out of the sky, the stock market would crash. For me the worst event was a lot of voice mail and phone systems crashing because they suffered from the dreaded Y2K bug. The best thing was I made quite a bit of money fixing those systems. I wrote my own program to do just that and made a lot of friends because I repaired the systems instead of replacing them.
    Now it is 2012 and people are once again looking for some kind of sign to tell them about our future or the lack thereof. According to the long gone Mayans the world is supposed to end at the end of this year. Will it be with a bang or a whimper? It seems to me that if the human sacrificing Mayans were so good at seeing into the future they would have done whatever it took to insure their own. They would have seen the signs so to speak. It there were any to see that is.
    I prefer not to worry about the end of the world. I do believe that there are signs of trouble on the horizon that we should pay attention to but I also think each day has enough trouble of its own.
    I believe that there are signs that we should pay attention to that will help us in our day to day lives, on and off the road, from getting into trouble.
    Let me simplify it for you.
    How many signs are there in your coach, signs that warn you of potential trouble if you don’t pay attention? Start looking and you may be surprised at just how many there are.
    Inside over the door of my coach was a sign that said something to the effect “make sure steps are extended before exiting.” I can’t remember the exact words and Diane peeled the sign off the wall. I asked her about that and she said “no one is going to read it when they need to cause it is posted in the wrong spot. Besides if you don’t see the steps after you open the door don’t step out of the coach!”
    That is logical but we know someone, actually it was the person who bought our Bounder, who didn’t notice the steps were not deployed after opening the door. Her two dogs jumped out of the coach before she could get them leashed (she opened the door thinking the screen would stay closed) and she went charging out after them only to fall on her face, bite through her lower lip and knock out two front teeth. Ouch!
    Next to the driver’s seat, posted to the wall above the seat belt anchor, is a little sign that says “Move cab seat forward before activating slide out.”
    Which should be easier to spot? Is it a little white note or a big captain’s chair that is too far back?
    The answer is; sometimes neither. I watched a tall salesman at an RV dealership forget to move the driver’s seat forward after he parked a coach and before he extended the main slide out. The chair was pushed off its pedestal with a loud crunch. I was surprised that the slide out didn’t stop as soon as it hit the chair. But I was also surprised when the main slide out in our coach removed the door to the cabinet housing the washer-dryer.
    Behind the curtains next to the drivers seat is a warning not to apply the parking brake while the vehicle is in motion. It also says something about the result being major damage and death or injury. No big deal.
    The third sign posted in the same spot reminds me not to press the accelerator while starting the engine. The sign says to turn the key only.
    I am not sure about that one. Is it there to help me not flood the engine? Or is it there to prevent me from plowing my coach through my one car garage?
    I suspect the first but the second might happen if I ignore the sign.
    There are more. Under my kitchen sink is a sign with lots of warnings about using propane. What to do if you smell it. There is also a list of things that could happen if you ignore this warning. The list includes explosions, fire, injury and possibly death.
    Two death warnings posted in the same coach!
    Inside the bathroom medicine cabinet door is a note about exceeding the GCWR of the coach and/or its towing capacity. What is the GCWR? It is the Gross Combined Weight rating which is made up of the CCC (carrying crappy cargo) and the weight of water in the tanks, passengers, fuel etc. It doesn’t say what happens if you exceed this GCWR (which you are supposed to consult your owner’s manual to find out how much that is) but if the results were listed I think they would include exploding tires, damage, injury and possible death!
    Makes you want to leave your coach in the driveway and hope the parking brake holds.
    There are many signs posted on the outside of my coach.
    On the fuel intake flap there is a sign that says “Unleaded Gasoline Only”.
    This sign takes on a special significance with my coach. I have a rear gas chassis. The fuel intake door is under the driver’s window….the same place you would find it if the coach were a diesel pusher. On more than one occasion I have been asked if I am using the correct fuel pump. It is one of my favorite questions. I know what kind of fuel goes in my coach but I sure want to avoid someone else making a big mistake. I can’t remember if a diesel fuel pump nozzle will not fit into a gas tank intake or if a gas nozzle will not fit into a diesel tank intake, and I don’t want to find out the hard way.
    On the gas flap is another sign. This one says to extinguish all appliances and igniters in the coach or something to that effect. Along with that is a warning that failure to comply could lead to….you guessed it….grave personal injury and or death!
    Next to the fuel warnings are warnings posted on the door to the compartment holding the propane tank. This sign is rather large and its message is posted in multiple languages. It repeats the same warning as the fuel warning label including the part about injury and death.
    Let us move farther down the coach. Inside of the wet bay we find all kinds of info posted about.
    There is a picture of a sink. Under that there is a neon yellow stick on label that reads “Warning! Clean with Windex only!”
    Thank goodness that failure to comply doesn’t result in serious injury. I hope not anyway.
    Why this warning isn’t posted in the head over the sink is a mystery to me.
    Up in the right hand corner of the bay there is a warning that says “Potable Water Only! Sanitize, flush and drain (consult owner’s manual) before using this tank!” Failure to comply (oh my goodness, not again!) could lead to serious illness or possible death!”
    I think the odds are beginning to favor death here.
    The last warning is posted next to a picture of a toilet. It reads “The sewer value must be open when using this inlet!” Now I know that the inlet posted in this warning isn’t the toilet itself, which is technically an inlet. No, the inlet is the flush valve. The sewer valve should indeed be open when back flushing or something very unpleasant might come out of the toilet.
    If my wife happened to be in the room housing said toilet and it did misfire due to my non compliance to posted warnings, the result for me or to me could be serious injury or possible death.
    I have only forgotten to open the valve once when flushing the tank. I was told of my mistake while washing the roof of the coach. I flew down the ladder in fear of becoming a player in a live scene from the movie RV.
    This brings me to my next to last warning. There is a sign attached to the roof of my coach under the ladder handles that reads, and I paraphrase “Maximum weight capacity 150 lbs when vehicle is moving.”
    Every time I read this sign the thought pops into my head that it must not be safe for me to hang on to this ladder, waving to passing cars, as the coach is flying down the road because I weigh 175 pounds!
    Of course we all know that lots of things are tied to roof ladders. Step ladders, bicycles, kayaks, mother in laws. Don’t exceed the 175 pounds. It isn’t printed on the label but if your kayak and your bicycle and your ladder flew off the back of the coach, I suspect it could lead to…forget it. Not going to say it … I am starting to scare myself.
    The last sign posted on the side of my coach is on the basement door located beneath the furnace. It reads “Caution…Do not allow door to remain open when furnace is running.”
    What does that mean? Don’t allow the door to remain open? I think it should read: “don’t allow the door to remain all the way open.” Locking it half way open is okay. All the way would allow the running furnace to blister the paint right off the door. That is no good. Unfortunately this half open door belongs to the basement compartment that I am in and out of the most, and so it is the door that I bang my head on the most. This is one time where complying with instructions leads to personal injury. I hope that I never hit my head so hard that it leads to possible death.
    We have now learned that signs posted inside and outside of our coach are there to make our Motorhome a safer place. That will be the result as long as we read them, pay attention, and comply with what these warnings tell us.
    I wish I had been able to take the Motorhome approach to raising my kids. I could have posted warnings all around their room.
    “Do your homework! Failure to comply can lead to failure at school which can lead to a lifetime of pain!”
    When my girls became teens and started noticing boys I could have stuck the following up on their wall:
    “Caution! A moment’s physical pleasure can lead to a lifetime of pain!”
    Along with that one how about:
    “Listen to your Mom and Dad so that your days will be good on this earth!
    Failure to comply can lead to a lifetime of pain!”
    And the last sign:
    "Warning! Don't insist on growing up so fast! Enjoy your childhood while you have one!
    Adulthood can lead to personal injury and will lead to eventual death!"
    You see I knew what the future could bring. As my kids grew older I could see the signs of trouble and would have done anything to prevent injury, physically, emotionally or any other kind, if possible.
    I think that the MotorHome approach to life is not a bad idea but only as long as you don't peel those signs off the wall and then charge out the door before the steps are deployed.
    Ouch!
    Derrick
    "Gramps".
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