Day 21 -- All day in Kalkaska, Michigan -- No miles

Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans. We HAD planned on heading south toward the southwest corner of Michigan this morning. However, while I was packing up and getting ready to leave, my next door neighbor and I got to chatting and he mentioned that he was out checking his running lights before he took off. Now that sounded like a great idea. I checked ours when we left, but had hardly glanced at them since. We always insist on being in camp no later than late afternoon, so running lights were not on the watch list.

So, with a song in my heart, since I knew my running lights would be shining bright as usual, I got the keys to the rig, inserted the key in the ignition, and turned on the lights. And then I did a doubletake and checked to see if I'd actually turned on the lights, since I didn't see any running lights shining brightly. I walked around to check the headlights and they were on as expected. But when I walked to the back of the rig and checked the taillights, they were decidedly not on. Okay, I told myself, this is not good. It made me wonder how long our taillights hadn't been working.

As you might guess, this bit of news sent me and my suddenly interested neighbor into a flurry of activity as we tried to determine what was wrong. I popped the hood, then flipped up the fuse box lid, and peered inside. Nothing looked burned or oddly melted or damaged in any way. Still, neighbor Tom and I peered at each fuse with a flashlight and we soon found one of the larger ones which had been burnt through.

Concetta went right to the GPS and learned that there was a Ford Dealer just five minutes away. All we had to do was visit the Ford folks in Kalkaska and buy the proper fuse and then the problem would be solved. We bid our friendly and helpful neighbors goodbye as they prepared to head for their home in Kentucky, and we started the engine and moved out.

Moments later we were rolling into the dealer's parking lot and I quickly appeared at the Parts Department window. When the young lady behind the counter looked up and smiled, I said, "I just need a 50 amp fuse for a Ford E-450."

The girl at the counter grimaced, evidently trying to remember what an E-450 was, and just where the fuses for same might be located. "I'm not sure we have those," she said, but then turned and approached the shelving units. Quickly she seemed to find the proper box and began to rummage through it. After a few moments she came back to the counter and showed me what she had found. Fortunately she had found the right size. Unfortunately she had only 40 amp fuses in her outstretched hand. "This is all I have," she said.

"Okay," I said. "That's not going to do it."

"You should be able to find these in any auto supply store," she said. "There's one right across the street."

I had seen the store when we pulled in, so I thanked the girl and headed back to the rig. I had really wanted to remain at the Ford Dealership just in case there were further problems that a replacement fuse wouldn't fix. I knew if I couldn't get the lights to come back on after the fuse fix, only the Dealership mechanics were going to be able to find out what was wrong. Unfortunately, I had no choice and we were soon pulling up at the edge of the parking lot at the "Auto Value" store. At this point I truly had no idea that our worst nightmares were about to come true.

Naturally, the parts store was filled with racks and racks of fuses, fuse pullers, and related paraphernalia. One sales person volunteered to look up our rig on his computer to see if any information existed about unlit running lights. Although he was unsuccessful, I still had high hopes that a simple fuse replacement was all that was required and we'd soon be on our way. So, with the same song in my heart that I had enjoyed earlier that morning, I skipped out to the rig with my fuse, opened the hood, popped the lid on the fuse box and set about removing the old damaged fuse. Seconds later I had the fuse extricated and the new fuse sitting in its place. With a smile on my face I stepped to the cab, threw open the door, and flicked on the lights.

That's the point when the foreboding music began in my head. Stunned, I stared up at the unlit running lights and realized that a brick had just fallen from a third-story window, and like the constantly unlucky Oliver Hardy, the hurtling missile hit me squarely on the head and knocked me flat. I knew it just as surely as Oliver Hardy felt that brick, we were totally screwed.

It was at this point that I decided to make our situation worse, evidently, because rather than call a professional to find the problem I decided do a check myself on all the fuses whose continuity I could not see from above. The fuse I had replaced was clear on the top and you could see instantly if it was bad. But a number of the saddle fuses could only be seen when extracted from their position and examined. So, that's what I did. One by one I removed perhaps a six or eight fuses and found them perfectly fine. I had only one choice now, I had to go back to the dealer and ask them to find the trouble with my running lights and taillights.

No problem, right? Wrong! When I got in the truck I immediately discovered that the engine would turn over but it would not run. In addition, the whole panoply of lights was blazing on the dash, which led me to believe that something was dreadfully wrong indeed. Obviously I had touched something that was absolutely forbidden to touch. Now most of us have changed fuses in our lives and these Ford fuses were just like all other fuses, so why the big problem?

I went back into the Auto Value store to see if they knew of any mechanics who made house calls. I had already learned from a service rep at the Dealership that they did not. Thankfully, the Auto Value folks knew of a perfect company to recommend to me and they even went as far as calling them and then putting me on the phone. I talked to the owner, Doug, and he said he'd be happy to come take a look and bring his computer analyzing device.

That sounded perfect to me. It was only about noon so we had time to figure out the problem, fix it, and still get somewhere down the road today. That's what I thought, at least.

Soon Doug rolled up and was hard at work on the problem. Here was guy just a half-decade younger than me who had been a mechanic since the age of fourteen, just like my Dad. Nothing could of sounded more sweet. Working together Doug and I proceeded to go over every entry in the rig's handbook, and all the fuses not only looked fine but tested fine when he applied his continuity tester.

It was somewhere around this point that I noticed that one of the lights on the dashboard was indicating that the built-in anti-theft device had been activated, at least that was what Doug told me the lights meant. Doug said that the anti-theft device disables the ignition, the fuel pump, and probably other things to keep thieves from making off with the RV.

"I better go get our newer analyzer," he said, and he jumped in his truck and disappeared. A bit shell-shocked, I simply didn't know what I was going to do next. But soon Doug was back with his son, Lee, and together they tackled the problem. Lee quickly found the problem with the running lights when he discovered a burned fuse under the dash. I didn't even know about the under-dash fuses as I thought only the non-RV vans had those.

So, the running lights were fixed which I could have done with a fuse costing under two dollars, but try as they might, Doug and Lee could not make the truck run. "Guess I'll have to go back and beg the Ford guys to come over," I said to Doug.

"Looks that way," Doug said. "Here, jump in the truck and I'll drive you over."

Moments later I was standing, hat in hand, in front of the service manager who had been less than responsive on my last visit. However, this time I was able to charm him, or perhaps just wear him down, but in the end he agreed to grab his most experienced technician and come visit us at the Auto Value.

It was with a very heavy heart that I reappeared at the rig and told Concetta that I could not predict how this disaster was going to turn out. Of course I had high hopes that the Service Manager's technician would bring a more modern computer that could solve our problem, and we'd be on our way.

Though I really had no appetite, Concetta and I sat down to lunch and had nearly finished when the Service Manager, Joshua, and his tech, R.J., appeared at our door and we were in business again -- I hoped.

But after a fruitless thirty minutes of concerted effort on the part of R.J., and a great deal of tolerance on the part of Joshua, the Ford guys were not able to put us back on the road. We thanked them profusely and they both headed back to their jobs.

At this point we had only ONE choice: we called our Allstate Roadside Assistance number and asked for someone with a very large tow truck to come get us out of the Auto Value parking lot, and tow us right across the street to the Ford Dealership's parking lot where we would then be in a position of patiently waiting while the Ford guys tried to shoehorn us in between a couple of their regular customers.

About an hour later, Walt from AuSable Towing showed up, hooked onto our rear hitch, and dragged us backwards twenty feet to get the rig clear of a nearby fence. Then he grabbed the front-end torsion bar assembly with his hooks, and drove away with me sitting uselessly behind the wheel.

So here we are, in said parking lot, listening to the generator run so we can charge all the batteries and try and live life in solitary confinement for an unspecified space of time. Joshua, the Service Manager, told me that it was virtually impossible for his mechanic to get to us tomorrow as they were just booked solid. I asked him if he had rental cars and he told me that normally he did, but they were all out. That meant we really couldn't go rent a motel room, or even do shopping. We'd just have to live in the RV for however long it took.

My immediate problem was the gray water tank. I had forgotten to drain it before we left camp, probably because my attention was on the darn running lights. I had drained the black tank, which is wonderful, but with a full gray tank I'd be stuck unable to do everything from washing dishes to brushing teeth. I definitely needed a plan.

And then I had an idea. The tow truck driver had positioned the rig in such a fashion in the parking lot that should any cameras exist on the building they would not be able to see the left rear corner of the RV. I could see that perhaps forty feet away was a swale at the bottom of the paved area that ended in a mass of weeds. If I could stretch my sewer hose I could drain the gray tank in the weeds and no one would be the wiser. After all, the gray tank was largely only soap and water.

Fortunately, after 40,000 miles on the road, I've learned a lot about what to take along in the cargo lockers. But still I was surprised when I found three extra lengths of expandable pipe and I was able to drain the gray tank easy as pie.

Once we were parked, and before Service Manager Joshua went home for the evening, he said we were perfectly welcome to live in the parking lot for as long as it took to fix our truck -- assuming it's fixable by mere humans and doesn't require magic or sorcery. I guess it's better than living at the Walmart like in the book, "Where the Heart is." But living in a parking lot, miles from restaurants or grocery stores, is going to be absolute torture I'm sure. I know we have lots of books, and we can run the generator, presumably without bugging the fixit guys in the shop, to surf the web and type the blog. But Jeeze Louise, we need to be moving.

So that's it for now. You'll have to stay tuned to see how this turns out. Cross your fingers.