Quartzsite, Arizona - March 17, 2014
When I finished my writing for the evening it was already
past 11, so content that I had kept up the writing for three entire days, I
brushed my teeth and jumped in bed, completely ignoring the fact that I had not
yet fixed the hot water issue.
I went to bed not worrying about heat or cold. The Airstream was nice and cozy at 11 and I
figured how cold can it get Las Cruses, New Mexico? The answer is damn cold. Thirty-five degrees at four in the
morning. That was when I woke up
repeating the performance of the night before, this time struggling to turn on
the heat. Be it never said I don’t make
the same mistake twice. I switched on
the heat and jumped back in bed. I was
kidding myself. All I could think about is that I hadn’t bothered to attack the
hot water problem. It wasn’t going to
fix itself. In spite of the cold – the
heater eventually kicked in – I pulled on my black t-shirt and blue jeans. There would be no sleeping for me tonight.
At 4:15 I pulled out my Kindle and re-read the portion of
Luhr’s book concerning the water heater.
I went to the Airstream owners manual which does more to intimidate than
inform for a luddite like myself.
Crammed with wiring, plumbing and yes, propane line diagrams I lay under
the covers totally baffled.
At about 5 am I remember the walk around I did with the
previous owner, a great guy named Tim who runs a German car repair business in
Fort Worth. (I figured the best guy in
the world to buy an Airstream from was a guy who repaired cars!) He did point inside one of the little
compartments that are located all over the outside of the Airstream. When Tim walked me through everything the day
we closed the sale. His instructions
feel in deaf ears. I’m afraid I was much
more concerned about how I would get the Airstream out of his parking lot
without ripping out his chain link fence.
I absorbed little. Thinking back
to that little compartment he did point out white and red water lines. They had something to do with the hot
water. I paged through the owners manual
until I found a paragraph entitled “Water Heater Bypass.” I stumbled outside in the dark using – you
guessed it – mu I-Phone for light and discovered that I had the hot waterline
turned off. After a two-day hiatus I was
destined to start off the day with a shave and shower. Life is good.
It was Monday, I had showered and shaved, I was even confident that somewhere along the
next 800 hundred miles I was sure to find my propane. I figured I’d put in 600 miles or so and stop
in Joshua Tree National Park with a nod to U2.
“I Still Haven’t Got What I’m Looking For’, seemed like an appropriate
sound track for my journey. I’d have my
propane and finally enjoy my steak. And
it was St. Patrick’s Day. What better
way to celebrate than with on Ireland’s premiere rock band’s home turf? Then on Tuesday have an easy 200 mile day
into LA – if the Los Angeles freeways pulling an Airstream could ever be
considered easy. That was a plan. I turned once again to Apple and downloaded
The Best of U2 1990 – 2000 to get in the spirit and hit the road.
I was cruising down I-10 without a care in the world. I was master of my airstream domain. I had all the systems working, pulled away
from my spot in record time and figured I had it licked. That was when another warning went off. Change oil.
I had a sign on my dashboard telling me that I needed to
change oil, apparently right now. I
had not even left Las Cruces. There can
be little doubt of what I would do. Of
course, Apple to the rescue once again.
I got out my phone typed “oil change in the maps app and up popped Jiffy
Lube, a mere 2.3 miles away.
As I pulled into the Jiffy Lube the guy waved me off. He walked up to my window and said, “You gotta unhitch the trailer. Just back it up over there,” as he pointed to
the back of the parking lot. Back
up? Back up? I had never backed up this thing. “Hey, I’ll guide you.” It wasn’t guidance I needed. It was practice. But how could I tell this guy I had never
backed this thing up.
He started waving his arms like he was with the ground crew
at O’Hare. I looked at him in the rear
view mirror, grabbed the wheel and started backing up. There are no rules for backing up a
trailer. Everyone will tell you there
is, but the physics of backing up a trailer would stymie Einstein. I know, I know. Turn in the opposite direction that you
normally would. Bullshit. There is much more going on here than
that. OK – you turn backwards but you
are looking backwards or in my case looking at the rearview mirror at some guy
waving his arms. The mirror makes him
backwards again which is a double negative so you steer the same direction he
says or the opposite. I think the hitch
ball has a mind of its own. Who in their
right mind buys a trailer then heads out on the Interstate having never backed
one up? The answer is obvious.
Back and forth I struggled.
The trailer kept jacking knifing.
I would go forward to straighten everything out and then try it
again. Each time I did this I got
further away from where the guy wanted me to drop off the trailer and closer to
the front of the Jiffy Lube garage where two other Jiffy Lube guys had formed a
little audience for me, adding to my anxiety.
Finally, I could go no further.
Rather than pay any attention to my Jiffy Lube friend I turned around,
looked over my shoulder and, low and behold backed the damn thing up where we
wanted me. How I accomplished I have no
idea, but I can tell you I was rattled.
I leaped out of the truck, mumbled an explanation to Mr.
Jiffy Lube that I had just bought this thing and started to unhitch the
trailer. So remember the sinister hitch
from yesterday. Rather than take it slow
and easy I was embarrassed and felt like an idiot. The whole damn device is dangerous but there
are these anti-sway bars that are heavy and you have to use a metal pipe to
crank them up and down – at least that is what I had be taught. I grabbed the metal pipe and yanked hard on
the release. There is this thing called
an R clip that keeps it in place so the mechanism doesn’t come loose. The bang when it released was like a gun was
shot at close range. I remembered that I
hadn’t taken out the R clip. When I
yanked on the metal pipe the thing broke and went flying across the parking
lot. If it had hit me in the chest I am
certain it would have killed me. Or at
least put my eye out. I came to the
immediate relaxation that A) I was way over my head. B) I had actually risked my life because I
wanted to impress a Jiffy Lube manager that I knew what I was doing and C) I’d
better drop the ego involvement and take it one step at a time. “Ok, Bruce, get a grip,” I said to
myself. I slowed way down, unhitched the
Airstream and drove my truck into the Jiffy Lube. Forty minutes later I was back on the road,
at little late but a little wiser.
The Interstate is not nearly as interesting as when you get
off the beaten track, but I was rolling in the right direction so I was
pleased. The interesting thing that I
find is that states look like they should.
When you are in Texas, it looks like Texas. When you get to New Mexico, it looks like New
Mexico. Somehow as soon as you get to
New Mexico mountains appear. Maybe New
Mexicans call them hills but in Texas They are mountains. Along the I-10 they loom on the horizon and,
maybe this is my imagination but they look red to me. Sort of what New Mexico should look
like. The sky was wispier clouds than
you see in Texas – Cirrus if I’m not mistaken.
They seem way high in the sky, which is big and looks a long way
away.
 |
| What New Mexico looks like. |
Arizona on the other hand is all about rocks. You get a great intro to Arizona rocks along I-10 about an hour into Arizona - Texas Canyon.
 |
| Arizona is about rocks and Texas Canyon has got some good ones. |
It seemed that way. I was screaming down the highway - had my cruise control at 65, then 70. I had gotten used to the Airstream. Didn't bother me at all. I was proud of my learning curve. I was pretty good at this. I was passing trucks, switching lanes and I wasn't worried at all. I was making great time. Great time - until I noticed another light on my dashboard. This one looked bad. It was a little orange icon I had never seen before. The little icon sort of looked like a piece of machinery, maybe a transmission. Nothing was spelled out like the oil thing. There was no warning beep. But it looked nasty. Driving along in the desert and suddenly an orange icon appears that looks like some device pops up. I couldn't figure out what it represented but I can tell you, it was no smiley face.
 |
| Ok - You can tell its an engine but look at this when it is staring at you from the dashboard and it could be anything! |
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| Resting at the Rest Stop |
OK - what's it gonna be. I figure I am 150 miles from Joshua Tree - 250 miles from Venice Beach. At a desert rest stop. It is 89 degrees by the way though that is the least of my worries. So, here are my choices. Ignore the icon and keep going to Joshua Tree, eat my steak and know that this too will pass. Plunge on to Venice. Not an option. I am suddenly tired of all this road tripping. The third option - count on Steve Jobs. I put rv park into my map app on the phone and up pops Sunsetters RV Park - a mere 26 miles down the highway. I have always been a firm believer that if you rest a broken machine it will heal itself. This doesn't work very often but I continually to believe that this could happen. Its my first thought when something mechanical or electrical breaks, "Let it rest. It might heal itself."
So, off I go down the road - Now at 55 mph in spite of the 75 mph speed limit. The little icon seems to be mumblingly to me "Red Rum, Red Rum" like the little girl in The Shining. Just freakin' me out. I am just waiting for the engine to stop, the steering wheel to freeze up as I go a careening off the road at 65 miles per hour followed by two tons of aluminum trailer with three full propane tanks. That is what would happen in the movies, but I mange slowly, to cover the 26 miles, sweat pouring down my cheeks and pull into Sunsetters RV Park in Quartzsite, Arizona, population 3,500. Quartzsite, in case you don't recognize the name is quite famous. It seems that every January as many as 750,000 to one million people, mostly in RV;s converge on Quartzsite for its annual rock, gem and mineral show - along with numerous flee markets. This annual gathering is now billed as the largest gathering of RVers on the planet. Yes, I am marking my calendar for January 2015.
So, Sunsetters RV Park may look like a dump to you but I was thrilled to be pulling in. And for $23.85 per night, not a bad deal. I pulled into my spot, paid my fee and started to cook my steak dinner. Forget about tomorrow. I'm banking on the old F-159 to cure itself. In the meantime as the sun started to set on sleepy Quartzsite I hooked up the propane tank, got the instructions out for my grill and read carefully. The part that was the most discouraging was, "Hold a lighted match near the fist propane escape hole." Hold a flame? What? I have no freakin' flame! And there is no one around to lend me one. Yet, another night with no steak.
I am treated to my third straight night of frozen dinners. I cross the street to the Roadrunner Market and select Banquet Meat Loaf with corn and mashed potatoes.
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| The Road Runner Market - Quartzsite's finest! |
in my relief I remember that it was St. Patrick's Day. And tomorrow is another day.
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