Over the course of owning this motor home I've had to affect a number of fixes and improvements: the builders, bless their hearts, used screws that were woefully too short when they installed the overhead track for the folding bathroom door; they put no obstructions on the kitchen shelving that might dissuade breakable dishes from cascading onto the floor under turbulent driving conditions; they made it so inconvenient to get items from under the banquet seats that I just had to tear out the single-piece of plywood used as a base under the foam cushions and install a two-piece model that would allow "flip-up," easy access that didn't bang into the window valance; the reading lights over the bed were so inadequate that you had to light a match to see if they were lit. This necessitated installing powerful lights that you could actually read by. The list goes on, of course, but you get the picture. I suspect that even brand new rigs present the same problems.
Today as I was backing the rig onto the elevation blocks, a task I've done dozens of times, I kept hearing a crunching/dragging sound. Knowing full well that there was nothing behind us (we'd just pulled in after all), I went on attending to the task at hand and ignored the intermittent crunching/dragging sound. (advice: never ignore anything) Well, when I finally applied the emergency brake and got out to see how I'd done with the leveling the first thing I encountered was the end of my exhaust pipe laying on the ground, partially pinned by the weight of the rig.
Of course I let slip a barrage of expletives designed to let anyone know who might be listening that I had just screwed up royally. Not sure how an appendage that should have been mounted to the floor of the RV came to be on the ground, I did something I have not had to do thus far on this trip: get out and get under. Once down there on the thankfully dry grass, I immediately saw the problem, even though I didn't understand it. The rubber-mounted steel rod, which was welded to the exhaust pipe and designed to attach itself to a steal bracket on the RV frame, had decided to divorce itself from the mounting. This of course caused the very heavy tail piece of the exhaust pipe to immediately pivot down and land on the ground.
It appears that the stress of the tail piece landing on the ground did not cause undo harm to the rest of the exhaust system, though I won't know that for sure until an expert sees it. The crunching I had heard during my setup procedure was the sound of the rig actually running over -- more than once I fear -- the poor tail piece because now it's decidedly more flat then before.
I tried to move the tail piece away from the rear tire, but to no avail. An exhaust pipe on an RV is at least twice the diameter and gauge of steel as a regular exhaust pipe. This heavy piece of pipe stubbornly refused to budge even a quarter inch which might have allowed me to drive to the nearest town after tying it off the ground in some fashion. But since it wouldn't move at all, I had a big, BIG problem. I checked the tool box for a standard hacksaw, but found nothing but a tiny hacksaw made for cutting small bolts and such.
But then I remembered that as we pulled into the camping area, I had caught sight of a white pickup nestled under a tree off to our right. It had some sort of commercial logo on the door. The driver of that pickup, I decided, constituted my only hope of getting myself out of my predicament, especially since we were basically alone in the municipal park where we've stopped for the night. Seeing no other options, I set off toward the pickup.
The driver glanced in my direction and saw me coming, but went back to watching his computer screen, probably hoping that I would just pass right on by and leave him alone. But once I was standing a few feet from his lowered pickup window and had offered a cheery, "Howdy," he looked up and smiled.
"Howdy," the driver said.
"I don't suppose you have a sturdy hacksaw on you," I said.
"I can do better than that," he said, and he opened the truck door and stepped out.
"Really?" I said.
"Yep," he said, and he reached up and grabbed a tool satchel off the bed, rested it on the fender, and dragged open the zipper.
I watched in rapt attention as he drew out a power hacksaw, sort of a nice small one, and showed it to me. "Think this would do the job?" he asked.
Up to then I had decided that there was probably no way that he'd loan me a tool of any kind, especially if it belonged to his employer. I figured that he would insist on coming over and cutting it himself, or at least come with me to watch over the tool. But no. He inserted a battery in the grip and said, "Here you go."
And so it was that in less time then it has taken me to write about this adventure, I had come back to the rig, scooted underneath, sawed off about two feet of the exhaust pipe, Bungie-corded the remainder from frame to pipe, and was walking back to return the tool."
"Do the job," he asked as I approached his window.
"And how," I said. "Worked like a dream."
After that I offered to buy him dinner, a price that I considered ultra cheap since I was in a pickle that I simply could not have gotten out of in any reasonable fashion.
He shook his head, getting out of the truck once again. "Nope, not necessary," he said.
"Well," I said, "how about if I at least pay for a case of beer or something for your break at work?"
He finished putting the tool back in the satchel and turned to face me. "Nope," he said. "Just not necessary."
After that we introduced ourselves and he told me he lived in Wichita and asked where we were from. I told him and then we talked a few more moments about nothing special. Finally we shook hands and parted company. Both of us, I think, came away from the encounter happier, he for having rescued a fellow human being, and me for having met someone who was just one more super nice guy and fellow traveler on the road of life. And that, dear readers, is what life is really about out here on the Kansas prairie.
Earlier today we spent the entire morning visiting the replica of 1870s and 1880s Dodge City, Kansas, which is located just on the west end of the city. We didn't really have high hopes of it being anything but hokey displays, tired old manikins in western outfits, and rusty, worn-out western scrap metal that they identify as "antiques." But let me just tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, they did have the ubiquitous gift shop full of future garage sale items that we sometimes think we just have to have to commemorate our visit. But the museum proper was simply OUTSTANDING! The mock frontier town, where they often hold re-enactments of frontier gunfights for holiday crowds, sort of serves as the public outer wall for one of the most complete and professionally-done museums we've ever seen.
Many of the shops are actual recreations of frontier shops. But to the north of the frontier shops, and under the same common roof, lies the rest of the museum displays. You'll see everything from dry goods and printing equipment to genuine Native American artifacts and military equipment. These things and dozens of other displays are expertly woven into the overall museum experience. We were just awestruck the whole time and we certainly would recommend this stop to anyone who travels this way.
In the afternoon, after traveling just over an hour northeast from Dodge City, we stopped at historic Fort Larned and managed to use up the rest of our traveling day. When we finally left the Ranger's theater and artifacts display area it was 4:00 o'clock and we had already landed on cocktail hour without any clue as to where we were going to camp for the night. Almost as an afterthought, I dashed back into the museum and asked the ranger if she knew of a something nearby that would accommodate a thirty-one foot RV. Fortunately she said, with the extension of her arm to the northeast, "just drive three miles down the road outside the Fort and you'll run into Pawnee Camp."
And that's how we ended up here for the night. There is one other sign of life just to our south, a travel trailer with a multitude of kid's bikes piled around it. When we drove in we saw no signs of life at the trailer and we figured that no one was home. So far that remains the same, though quite a few other humans have drifted into and out of the camp in the last couple of hours. I think it's basically teenagers looking for a private place to study "nature." But in effect we have the whole park to ourselves for the night. There is no sewer connection here, but we do have water and electricity, which is pretty darn nice.
As you might guess I took a huge number of shots of both frontier Dodge City and Fort Larned and a few of those shots appear here. You probably can guess that if I can hang out in the old west for an entire day it's the next best thing to breathing for me. Thankfully, I married a woman who likes it as much as me.
Concetta is saying I need to clear the table so she can get on with dinner, so until next time we both wish you the very happiest of travels!
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