Elepent

I’ve been attending the Recreational Vehicle Industry Association’s (RVIA) annual trade show in Louisville, KY, for a few years now, but this is my first time walking through the seemingly endless acres of displays at the Kentucky Expo Center as an owner, not just an enthusiastic journalist.  Suddenly, the rows and rows of supplier booths are relevant!  In the past, I’ve just wandered in and out of the coaches to glean information about the latest and greatest RVs, but now, I’ve got an entirely different frame of reference.

The Incorrigible’s got a lot of stuff in it, after all.  We’ve got a Dometic refrigerator and air conditioner, a Thetford toilet, a Demco tow bar, a Generac generator, and a ShurFlo water pump.  All of these companies were represented at the show, as well as the manufacturers of plenty of the products we’ve used on the moho thus far.  At the very least, the RVIA show presented an opportunity to walk around and tell folks how much we liked their products! Since we’re in a state of constant upgrade, we also did some research into making our home more comfortable.  Home improvement is a viable prospect no matter what size your home is, after all.
In addition, Lexie and I took the time to check out the Incorrigible’s competition, so to speak.  It was refreshing to check out brand-new motorhomes and not find a single one that made us want to immediately trade in the Incorrigible.  Even the 40-foot diesel “pusher” motorcoaches, so named for their rear-mounted engines, based on dedicated chassis similar to charter buses and equipped with all the comforts of home including washer-dryer combos and full-sized refrigerators, weren’t enough to make us ponder moving.  (Well, okay, there was one, but it’s safely out of reach.)  Though our old RV lacks the floor space of the newer models, all of which have slide-out sections of varying sizes and taller roofs, there were only a few details that we found honestly preferable to what we’ve already got.  In fact, we’re not sold on slideouts.  Being an older-car guy, they worry me as something else that’s liable to break as the coach gets older, and I also don’t like the idea of not having as much floor space when we’re rolling.  If it’s not roomy enough for me without popping the slides out, then I might as well get a bigger rig.

That said, it’s a moot point since we didn’t see a single Class A that was available without slides.  We also didn’t see a single unit with an L-shaped couch like ours.  Since the unusual layout is part of what sold me on the Incorrigible, it’ll be kind of hard to sway me to a newer coach that lacks it.  We saw lots of exciting possible upgrades for the Incorrigible, however, from roof vents that can be left open during the rain (with such a small interior space, fresh air is important) to new flooring to replace the scary/dirty carpet.  Since the pipes under our sink are still leaking, we looked into a better water filter and new plumbing down there as well.  And that’s not even mentioning the cool lights and other fixtures that were on display.  If we had a larger coach, we could even spring for a compact washer/dryer unit!  Cool stuff, indeed.

Once the Home Depot-like imaginings were out of the way, Lexie and I checked out the new motorhomes, from big to small.  Our runaway favorite of the show (and the only vehicle that tempted us enough to consider trading in the Incorrigible) was the Silver Crown S-Series. 

This Freightliner-based, 45-foot monster is technically a Class C, but its size and capability put it in the subcategory of “Super-C” motorhomes.  Based on a semi truck chassis, the Silver Crown’s carrying first-class appointments inside including hydronic heating, dual-zone heated marble floors, a washer and dryer, a full-size refrigerator and dishwasher, a 32” television, standard GPS system, enough space to dance in its living room  and of course a cool big-rig cockpit–and it can still tow almost 20,000 pounds on top of that.  It’s true monster-truck bliss.

The Itasca Sunova was worth noting, too.  It’s got a set of French doors separating the driving compartment and living space from the kitchen, and then full doors at the rear to separate the bedroom and bathroom, turning it into a true three-room motorhome!

Lexie and I weren’t seduced solely by the promise of high-dollar appointments, however.  The singularly silvery Airstream trailers are a perennial favorite of mine, and Lexie approves of them as well.  Airstream has always done its own thing, and apart from the Jimmy Buffet-inspired curtains that feature heavily in the corporate decor, we like it.

The retro trend that swept through the auto industry a few years back has also reached the RV industry.  Airstream’s Scout breaks from the brand’s tradition of dome-topped, brushed-aluminum units for a curvy, retro style.

The Coachmen Shasta also takes the retro route, with Fifties-inspired curves and colors wrapped around modern interiors.  All that’s missing are sparkle-patterned Formica counters.  They’re absolutely adorable.

Also maxing out the “adorable” meter are the ultra-light trailers.  Teardrop trailers have always been cool; think of them as tents you don’t have to pitch, or as blanket forts on wheels, and you’ve got the right idea.

The new T@g teardrop trailer by Thor Industries’ T@b ultralight division has everything you need–bug-proof sleeping space for two and a television.  If you want a bit more, the larger T@b and Microlite’s Wazat offer exterior kitchenettes and refrigerators.

All of these trailers are light enough to be towed by most small crossovers and cars.  The T@g’s bed is removable, turning it into a cargo trailer, and lifting the Wazat’s removable “camping pod” turns it into a 5’x8’ tilt-bed trailer.

That was the good.  There was also the bad, and the ugly.   Damon’s new Avanti is a super-efficient diesel-powered Class A based on a new front-engine chassis with a low center of gravity.  It’s got handsome interior appointments, an easy-to-drive narrow footprint and even an over-the-cab sleeper.  It also looks like an Infiniti with a serious glandular condition, and that’s not a compliment.  The Coachmen Mirada and Gulf Stream Montaj are also new compact Class A’s that push the limits of “mighty hideous,” though the interior appointments of both are attractive.

Here’s a general status report on the Incorrigible, thus far.  We’ve been making improvements to the vehicle as we go, repairing and redecorating, and for the most part the work we’ve done has been worthwhile. The roof damage that was repaired has not leaked since, though we have discovered that the side windows need to be resealed, as thirteen years on the road has worn out the waterproof butyl tape that serves as an air and moisture barrier around the frames.

Our front air conditioner has a small leak around the base, as noted before, and as the unit is worn out and inefficient (especially compared to the new Dometic air conditioner we installed at the rear) we’re considering replacing it with a heat-pump unit that can provide both cool and warm air.  Our experiences thus far have suggested that this will enable the Incorrigible to be more efficient, as well as providing additional alternatives for keeping warm on chilly nights.  When the temperatures dip, we’ve got a furnace, electric blanket, oil-filled space heater and sleeping bags on hand, and another line of defense would be a good thing.

The sink repairs have unfortunately not taken; the leaky pipe has resurfaced, albeit with less excitement than the first time.  We replaced the filter, and the new filter leaks.  It isn’t leaking from the filter itself, but from the hose at the bottom, which appears to be cracked.  Attempts to plug the water leak with sealant have thus far failed, and the pie-pan-to-catch-the-drips method is growing old fast.  We’re saving our pennies to possibly replace the entire water-filtration system with one more suited to full-time RV living than the small, summer-use system that’s currently in place.

The Incorrigible’s mechanical bits need attention as well.  I did a partial tune-up, an interesting exercise in changing spark plugs on one’s living room floor, and as soon as the weather warms up a little I’ll change the oil as well.  What the motorhome needs are new tires, however, and that’s another significant expense that needs to be put into the budget.  When we get the tires done, we’ll have the brakes checked out as well.  Unfortunately for the average DIY home mechanic, a Class A RV is basically a medium-duty truck underneath, which means that it’s too big for some operations.  Unless I want to invest in a 50-ton floor jack, I won’t be doing any of my own tire rotations or brake jobs.

Thus far, all of Lexie’s ingenious uses of Velcro in the kitchen and bathroom have been solid and reliable; those baking supplies canisters on the counter haven’t moved, and the breadbox stays in place nicely as well.  It’s hard to describe the violence with which the RV can move up and down or laterally, if the road is uneven or when we’re pulling in and out of a parking lot.  Even going slowly isn’t sufficient precaution to prevent cabinets from flying open and our stuff from tumbling about.

When I changed the windshield wipers, I discovered that the pin holding the driver’s side blade in place was completely missing, and that it was only a matter of time before the blade fell off!  Typical used-car crap, that is.  It’s the sort of thing that a used car dealer wouldn’t notice, and I’m sure that’s what’s happened here as well.  Unfortunately, the oversized blades mean that it’s not exactly easy to find a replacement pin at AutoZone.  I slid a threepenny nail into the place to keep the blade from falling off, and thus far it’s done the trick.

Another thing that will need to be addressed is the cheap sewer hose.  The twist-on bayonet fitting is sloppily cast, and will slip loose when the hose is under pressure.  In fact, it’s done this twice three times,  resulting in a hilarious wastewater dousing each time.  Thankfully, it was only water from the “gray” tank, which contains dirty dishwater and shower runoff–unpleasant, but not as horrible as it would be to get an unexpected shower from the “black” water tank, which is what the toilet flushes into.  Anyway, I’m taking these incidents as warnings that a new sewer hose with a higher-quality fitting needs to be on the agenda as well.  Soon.

We didn’t expect to have to deal with a hard freeze, but unseasonably chilly temperatures in Nashville meant that we had to do exactly that.  Wrapping the outside hose in foam seemed to do the trick for the typical mid-South night, where temperatures will dip to the low thirties but bounce back above freezing in the morning.  When the forecast called for a hard freeze of nineteen degrees, I disconnected the water hose and sewer hose, to prevent ice dams from forming inside them.  Wrapping the pipes in a cocoon of heat tape, insulation and duct tape will keep the water flowing, but as we don’t plan to spend much time in subzero temperatures I preferred not to go to that expense.  Filling the onboard fresh water tank (which is inside the coach, under the bed) and cocooning for a few days is a less complicated prospect.  We did that for a night, and there were no problems.

What I didn’t count on was another, unexpected drop in temperature. The temperatures went back into the fifties over Thanksgiving, and I reconnected the water and wastewater hoses.  A couple of nights later, the temperatures plummeted into the twenties again, and stayed that way for several days.  The freshwater hose froze solid, and large dams of ice formed in the sewer hose as well.  When it came time to disconnect and move farther south, the frozen-solid pipes were a bit of an obstacle.  As it was still thirty degrees outside, I decided to take a warm shower, then drain the tanks, letting the fresh water melt the ice in the sewer hose so we could empty it.

This strategy neglected to take into account the fact that it had gotten cold enough for the water pipes under the RV to freeze as well!  When I attempted to open the drain valve, it was also frozen shut, blocked by a chunk of ice on the inside.  What to do now?

The internet has a great many suggestions on avoiding frozen pipes, but not so many regarding how to thaw them once frozen.  I knew that banging on them was out, unless I wanted to crack the brittle plastic.  Likewise, it was sufficiently cold outside that pouring boiling water over the pipe was only going to result in more ice, this time on the bottom of the water compartment.  The “proper” solution is to raise the ambient temperature.  A portable heater is one way to go, or even a hair dryer.  In our case, we were fortunate enough to have parked with our doors facing the sun; I opened the water compartment and waited a couple of hours for the day’s heat to do its work. Eventually, the ice dam thawed enough to let a trickle of water through; the room-temperature water in the tank did the rest once the valve was open.  There are better ways to spend a morning, however; we’re headed farther south!