Elepent

That’s not a shadow, it’s the difference between the clean (light) and dirty (dark) sections of the roof..

For owners on reasonably low budgets, DIY is the way to go with any large purchase, be it a house, a car, or whatever. Since the Incorrigible is a combination of all three, and Lex and I are definitely on a low budget compared to the average RV owner, we’re after doing as much work on it ourselves as possible.

This week’s exhibit: the roof. The roof of a motorhome isn’t like the forget-it-for-ten-years roof on a house. They’re generally made of rubber or fiberglass, and neither of these lightweight, waterproof materials is very sunshine-friendly. On top of that, you’ve got air conditioners, sewer vents, skylights and CB antennas poking holes through the panel at various places. In short, an older RV is likely to have a few leaks. This is bad, because leaky roofs allow water to get into the wood of the walls and floor, and all sorts of nasty hilarity (of the “we need a new RV” variety) ensues.

We checked the Incorrigible carefully for leaks, but after a few hard spring rains it began to be distressingly clear that we’d missed at least one. Water spots began to appear on the valances and wallpaper. Not cool. That was Emmy’s cue to go looking for leaks and to get the roof maintenance up to snuff.

The recommendations are pretty simple: wash the roof, check all of the seams for obviously bad caulk; replace said caulk, and wipe on a UV protectant to help reduce oxidization.

Do not be fooled; these simple-sounding tasks will take several hours to complete.

First, there’s the issue of cleaning the roof. The special rubber-roof cleaner goes on like floor cleaner, and it’s best to get a durable scrub brush or mop whose bristles aren’t too stiff, or you risk tearing the rubber. This is not an arduous task in theory. Everyone’s scrubbed floors. Most floors are not 34 feet long by 8 feet wide and in full sun, however. Most are also not covered with a chalky mixture of oxidized rubber and dirt that will immediately coat everything it gets close to. And then there’s the ticklish question of getting the hose up on top of the RV, as well as a water bucket and other tools.

I scrubbed the Incorrigible’s roof nonetheless, and it made a big difference. That’s not a shadow in the photos, it’s the difference between the clean (left) and dirty (right) sections of the roof.

Repairing visible leak points is relatively easy. We used self-leveling caulk designed for RV roofs, but decided that we’d rather go the belt and suspenders route and covered all of the front-seam caulk with Eternabond tape. Designed to replace caulk, Eternabond forms a wide (hopefully) permanent bond over the top of the seam.

That done, we added a UV protectant to the roof (another large mopjob) and are awaiting the next hard rainstorm to see if our efforts have been worthwhile. So far, so good…

RV dealers and service departments seem to be just like their automotive counterparts: many of them are irritating to deal with and haven’t a lick of customer-service sense, and will happily rip you off. The difference is that there are more auto shops. If SpeedyLube pisses you off, you can just drive across the street to Pennzoil. With RV dealers, they’re a bit more spread out, which offers less opportunity for a righteous, “fuck you, I’ll take my business elsewhere” exit, no matter how well-deserved. Pissing off the only licensed motorhome service center within forty miles of home is just not all that bright.

Unfortunately, that also means that we’re taking a lot of shit from folks. General RV Center, the place that sold the Incorrigible to us, promised they’d replace the missing refrigerator shelves. This was when we purchased the rig in April; at the beginning of August, they still hadn’t arrived in spite of Emmy’s constant badgering of the salesperson who promised them to us. A trip to Feister RV Center in Westland, Michigan, was also an exercise in frustration. Emmy asked if their service department could offer some general estimate costs for standard service like oil changes and tire rotations. He was told that the shop guys had gone home for the day. After clarifying that we weren’t asking to have the unit serviced, only that we were shopping to see if we wanted to bring the Incorrigible in for its maintenance, we were told, “Maybe you ought to just take it back where you bought it, and let them deal with it.”

Hello? We’re here offering our business to you, and you don’t want it? Very well; we will not be returning to Feister.

Camping World was a bit better; at least their service counter has basic maintenance prices on a board. It can take upwards of half an hour to actually get served; the combination of not enough employees and talkative RV owners means that things frequently proceed at a glacial pace. When we dropped the Incorrigible off to have the LP gas alarm checked however, our 1pm appointment turned into a 3:30pm “He hasn’t gotten to it yet, can you leave it overnight?” brush-off.

Thankfully, General RV Center’s service department proved to be more effective than their sales department. (For the record, our salesman did eventually get our refrigerator shelves, in the middle of August) Once we got the Incorrigible dropped off with them, Wade came through for us and got everything taken care of quickly and efficiently. When the time comes for brake and tire service though, we’re going to have to choose our mechanics carefully. That, or we’ll bitch long and loud here on the blog. Either way, what bliss!

Obviously, when you’re planning to live in the used vehicle you just bought, shakedown runs are absolutely imperative. Who wants to have to wait for their house to get out of the shop? Once we’d spent some time with the Incorrigible, tooling around home on short trips, we began to notice the flaws; a minor water leak up front during hard rains, a loud hooting sound from the intake, and various inoperative appliances and amenities. When I checked the oil, I found that the engine was down to less than two quarts. One of the rear wheel covers was the wrong size, and blocked the valve stems. And of course, that interior had to go. Lexmachine got right on that, ripping out the wood-block houses that were glued to the cabinet doors and scraping the hideous appliqués off of the shower stall. Cabinet doors were pulled out and repainted; light fixtures and valances were similarly re-thought, and the Incorrigible got a more modern look.

While Lexmachine worked on the inside, I got down to business on the outside. The roof leak was found and repaired with Eternabond tape, and the rubber roof washed and protected (more on that later). We saved about $250 by changing the oil in the coach’s engine and generator at home rather than going to the dealer. Apart from the awkward oil fills for both engines, the task is just as simple as changing your car’s oil. Because we didn’t know how long the Dolphin had been sitting (and it was clear from the engine oil that the previous owners were lax on servicing), we flushed and sterilized the holding tanks and hot water heater, a task which resulted in a wonderful sulfurous smell coming from all the faucets as the rancid water was pushed out of the system. The irritating intake noise is a function of the K&N aftermarket airbox; there isn’t much to be done about that for the moment.

In the months leading up to our trip, we took the Incorrigible for shortish test runs and continued to work it hard, looking for flaws. The RV hauled a trailer into downtown Detroit to rescue a couch we found in an abandoned building, and then spent an afternoon exploring the metro area. It wasn’t the most efficient vehicle for the trip, but the drive (and Detroit’s rough roads) revealed a couple of drawers whose hardware needed replacing and a loose passenger-side sun visor. We tested the Dolphin’s hauling capability with a drive to Chicago to help our friend Mauraway move; dragging a book-filled 12-foot trailer and fighting traffic on Lake Shore Drive was child’s play for the Incorrigible, but the lack of decent stereo speakers, a rear air conditioning unit that began blowing warm air, and a hot water heater whose pilot light went out and wouldn’t fire up again were definite concerns. Good news was the fuel economy–the Incorrigible averaged almost 10mpg on the freeway even traveling at 65mph with the trailer. We’d been told to expect 5-6 mpg, so this was heartening news.

Meanwhile, at the rear of the Incorrigible, the trailer wiring had ceased to work properly, so a quick trip to U-Haul got that properly taken care of. The tattered, mildewed windshield curtain was replaced, and the sad little cassette player in the dash (which ate the first tape that was fed to it) was replaced with an iPod-capable CD player. While we were at the car-audio shop, we replaced all four of the coach speakers as well.

A night in General RV Center’s service bay took care of the bad pilot light, a short in the brake light wiring, and we replaced the rear air conditioning unit with a new Dometic unit as well. The Incorrigible’s thermostat had apparently come from a hardware store and was made for a house, rather than an RV, so we replaced that with a unit designed for motorhomes as well.

Wade, General RV’s firiendly and helpful parts and service manager, told us that most RV appliances will last about fifteen years before wearing out, which suggested that our AC unit had lasted about as long as could be expected. Of course, this also suggested that the other AC unit, refrigerator, furnace and water heater could be on their respective ways out, too. Er, great.