Elepent

Packing the cabinets is a learning experience, because even the gentlest of turns can result in inertia-based excitement.  Chances are, experienced RVers and boaters are nodding in agreement at this point, as if to say, “Well, duh,” but hey, we’re still living and learning.

What am I talking about, anyway?  Imagine the hilarious sound that was created when nearly all of our drinking glasses and plates exited their cabinet as we made the final turn into the campground, bailing out like paratroopers going out the back of an airplane.

We cleverly chose durable melamine plates for just such an accident, but didn’t account for the heavy ceramic mug that landed square on top of the plates and broke half of them anyway.  The glasses suffered a similar fate, though this was less upsetting as we’d expected to lose glasses regularly.  As we travel, we’ll pick up glasses from thrift stores and garage sales–they’re fifty cents apiece or less, and they’re apt to get broken regularly.  Neither of us likes drinking from plastic cups, so we’re willing to go to the extra expense while we determine a way to keep the glasses from committing suicide.

Unfortunately, the dishes’ airborne brigade imitation left us with just three glasses and one plate.  Re-stocking will be necessary.  We quickly added rubber mats to the cabinets, to reduce the chance that things will slide, and Lexie mocked up a neat cargo-net screen out of an old cloth laundry bag for a second layer of protection.

Exciting episode #2:  we discovered a leak under the sink.  The hose running to the water filtration unit was dribbling merrily when we hooked up to the city water, whose pressure is higher than the onboard water pump’s.  The water quickly soaked the carpet on the shelf and warped the shelf header.  After putting a cup underneath to catch the water and removing the carpet, we replaced the damaged wood and cut some tile to fix.

That was, of course, the easy part.  Stopping the leak was somewhat harder.  RV plumbing fittings are installed for life–that is, there aren’t any easily removable junctions.  To replace a worn component, we’d have to cut the whole business out, a process that promised to lead only to more leaks.  After inspecting the fittings that were seeping, we decided to ask the folks at General RV how we might go about easily replacing them.

Of course, within hours of making that decision (and before we could get to the RV shop), the Incorrigible decided the matter for us, when that leaking hose blew itself out of its mountings, quickly soaking the freshly-dried shelf (and Lexie, who was putting away pots and pans at the time).  A quick circus of shutting off the water and grabbing all the towels we could find ensued, and we inspected the damage.  After considering, we plugged the old water filter (which had been left in the RV when we bought it) into the spot where the hose was.  It clipped in perfectly, and when we turned the water back on the leak was gone.  It was another example of a used-car type problem; no components were broken in the end.  Someone had just stuck the wrong hose in the wrong spot, with unfortunately exciting results.  The good news is that we’ll just have to paint the shelf with mildew-blocking Kilz paint before tiling it, and replace the filter, and all is well under the sink.

The third experience is one we hopefully won’t have to learn from; we’ve taken precautions in case of a fire. RV fires are bad, bad news–the small size of the vehicle (compared to a house) plus the presence of multiple fuel tanks means that in the event of a fire, the only acceptable protocol is to cut and run, as quickly as possible.  The Incorrigible is insured, after all; no sense in dying a horrible death trying to save it if the worst happens.

We’ve got an emergency suitcase that’s packed at all times in case of such an eventuality, containing a few changes of clothes and other essentials.  If there’s a fire or some other disaster that forces us to abandon ship, we can quickly grab the fire safe, emergency suitcase, Mushroom and the laptops and we’ll be temporarily homeless, but not utterly screwed.  Fire drills have us able to scramble out with all necessaries in about forty-five seconds to a minute.  So, we’re about as covered as we’re going to get, there.

Ten Things you’ll want to remember to put on your RV:

1.     A slip-joint wrench, for tightening the city water attachment at the campground.
2.    A long, heavy-duty indoor-outdoor extension cord and a 3-prong adapter in case there’s no 30-amp electrical connection.
3.    At least two towels that can be ruined by dirt or grease.
4.    Sandals or flip-flops.
5.    Bug repellent.
6.    Charcoal and grill utensils.  Yes, we forgot ours and had to make an emergency trip to Kroger so we could eat.
7.    Rubber gloves, for working with the sewage tanks
8.    If you have stabilizing jacks, a piece of plywood or metal (12” x15” is best) for each “foot” will be needed any time you’re not on pavement, or if you’re on asphalt in a hot climate.
9.    Extra trash bags.
10.    Small broom and dustpan.

While power-washing the outside of the Incorrigible prior to removing the much-reviled dolphin decals and applying a fiberglass restorative to restore the rig’s shine, I turned my attention to the retractable stairs.  After fifteen years exposed to the elements, the metal steps were looking somewhat worse for wear, and I figured a coat of paint couldn’t hurt.

As I peeled up the worn-away tread pads, however, a generous amount of paint came with them, revealing some pretty advanced rust underneath.  The top stair was bubbly, cancerous and pinholed, though still structurally sound.  No, a simple paint job wasn’t going to cut it.  The stairs got a thorough wire-brush cleaning (okay, maybe it wasn’t completely thorough, but good enough for government work) and I applied a quick coat of POR-15.  As many mechanically-minded folks may know, this rust protectant looks like paint, but is something else entirely (and those who don’t know will learn this as soon as they get some on their hands or clothes–POR-15 won’t wash off with water, turpentine or any cleaner safe enough to use in your home).  The stuff seals rust in, and forms a hard coating to help strengthen the damaged metal while preventing new rust from forming.  I’ve used it on a number of cars, and it works.  POR-15 can be painted over, but we chose to install some inexpensive Astroturf treads from the dollar store instead.  Yes, it’s low-rent, but the stuff is mucho handy when it comes to reducing the amount of sand, dust and pine needles that get tracked into the Incorrigible. Our carpet looks tired enough as it is.

Speaking of the carpet, Lexie steam-cleaned it, sucking even more of the nasty cigarette-based grime left by the previous owners out.  The water in the steam-cleaner was black by the time she finished,and the floors look somewhat better.  Considering the amount of dust and mud that still gets tracked in, it’s no surprise many RV owners choose to install Pergo or tile floors though.

In the midst of all the maintenance and repairs and general giddiness of severing the anchor chain, I’ve forgotten to get online and make the official announcement that we’re on the road.

Well, sort of.  And it’s sort of not my fault, since we’ve had spotty Internet service.  But more on that in a moment.  First things first; we broke a virtual bottle of champagne and the Incorrigible became our official full-time home as of October first.

We’ve been living in the moho on and off since late August, working out the kinks and figuring out what’ll fit and what won’t.  This proved to be a good way to settle in; we’ve been able to gradually add dishes, appliances and other live-aboard necessaries, so we had a good sense of what we could and couldn’t bring along.  Our various trades have necessary tools, after all–automotive tools, shipping supplies, craft supplies, files and computer equipment, not to mention the mannequin Lexie uses for sewing and displaying vintage clothing finds.  Happily, the Incorrigible’s cavernous under-storage bins swallowed all of these things with room to spare.

We driveway-surfed for a few weeks, parasiting electricity and water from whoever didn’t mind our great beastie taking up space in their drive.  In this process, we’ve learned that the black and grey water tanks need to be emptied about every five or six days, or every three showers, whichever comes first.  We’re learning how to conserve water and LP, and about the necessity of keeping things “shipshape,” because there’s just not enough square footage to be messy!

And we have watched a lot of DVDs.

Our first true camping expedition also saw us hooked up farther from the sticks’n'bricks house in Wayne than we’ve yet been, about an hour away in Hartland, Michigan.  We spent a week at the Waldenwoods campground, with a full-hookup, 30-amp site.  Compared to the driveways we’d gotten used to, it was positive decadence–quiet, scenic, and there was no need to move the Incorrigible when the tanks filled up.

Waldenwoods itself is a handsome sprawl of land.  Founded in the early 1920s by J. Robert Crouse, who had a vision of a Henry Thoreau-style wilderness oasis, Waldenwoods hosted Henry Ford, Thomas Edison and Harvey Firestone in its early days.  The grounds house several luxurious and historic camping lodges, as well as miles of hiking and biking trails, a golf course, a lake with beach and paddleboats and the usual RV park amenities.  Waldenwoods has been an RV park since 1984 and is still owned by the Crouse family.

Lexie and I spent our week there working on new bazaar sales (we’ve got a large stockpile that needs to be posted before we hit the road), exploring the bike trails, walking in the woods and admiring the Halloween decorations of our temporary neighbors.  Waldenwoods has a campsite decoration contest, with up to $300 for the best-decorated site (or at least, it seemed, the one with the greatest volume of Halloween crap).  That said, there were some wonderfully creative displays, including a haunted pirate ship made from a bass boat, and the graveyard next door, complete with enthusiastic kids dressed up as ghouls and mummies and the score from “Halloween” playing in a constant loop.  The autumn leaves are just hitting peak color in this part of Michigan, so the unseasonably warm and sunny days were excellent for outdoor roaming.

We took the time to check out the other RVs, as well, noting two other Dolphins of similar vintage to the Incorrigible (both of them the larger, 36- or 38-foot models) and a Rexhall Aerbus like the one we considered purchasing.  Oddly enough, I also saw the Suburban that I sold in order to purchase the Incorrigible!  There was no mistaking the stickers I put on it, that were still in place.  The gentleman who bought it said he was planning to use it to tow an RV trailer, and apparently it’s working out well for him.

Waldenwoods is a quiet and cozy campground, and I suspect we’ll wind up in places that make us miss it terribly, as we get farther from home.  For the moment, we’re driveway-surfing again.  We’re staying in Michigan until Election Day (absentee ballots are too uncertain, and this election’s too important!) and then heading south.  In the meantime, we’ll explore metro Detroit just like we would any other place, and see what treasure there is to be found.  Just because both of us grew up here doesn’t mean that there aren’t new things to discover, after all.

As for the Internet issue, we decided that pirating wireless wherever we could was not going to provide a sufficiently constant ability to get online (as evidenced by our partial absence from this site since August).  We picked up a Verizon wireless modem instead.  It has thus far been wonderfully reliable and even works on the road.