Day 10 -- Amarillo, Texas to Sayre, Oklahoma -- 124 Miles

Okay, I'll just come right out and say it. Today was the much dreaded day from HELL for any RVer. It all started when we had finished breakfast, done our housekeeping prior to leaving, and I had inserted the key into the RV's ignition as required, switched it on, and tried to retract one of the slideouts. To my dismay, the slideout refused to move and showed no signs of life whatsoever. Thinking that if I could start the engine perhaps more amps would be available for the sliding sequence. I went back to the cab and twisted the key to "start." Only the faintest muffled "click" resulted. "DAMN!," I said to no one in particular. I knew instantly that I had a very big problem.

I knew that I could probably lasso someone into giving us a jump since we carried my own cables. But once the engine was running, we couldn't just sit there and annoy the other campers with the motor noise while we worked on the rig. We had to be ready to roll, which meant that one way or another, the sliders had to be in, and all the setup gear had to be stowed so we could leave as soon as the engine started.

Fortunately, when we had the slider problem in Michigan in 2019, the technicians at Camping World had jerry-rigged a hot wire from the battery to the slider relay which took the bad fuse out of the equation and allowed the rooms to retract. Since then I had discovered the exact fuse that goes bad for some reason and had learned how to exchange it for a new one.

So, at that point, there was nothing for me to do but clean up all the gear outside, hook up the jerry-rigged wire in case there was a problem with the fuse, and then go find someone to jump the battery.

Once I had done all these things, I set out to find a fellow camper to jump our battery. As fate would have it, the local electric utility company had a truck sitting just two or three doors down, and it was even running. I approached the driver and asked if he had time to jump us, and he readily agreed.

With the jumper cables connected to the utility truck's battery, I was able to start the engine. It protested at first, but then fired up and kept running. Using the jerry-rigged wire, I was able to retract the sliders, and with that accomplished we were on our way. But at that point Fate decided she wasn't done with us for when I asked Concetta to make sure our automatic entry step had retracted, she told me that it was still lowered. That was not the news I wanted to hear. Normally the step automatically retracts whenever the door is closed and the engine is started. Our troubleshooting list suddenly got longer.

I had asked Concetta to navigate us to the nearest Walmart so we could buy a battery, and I would drive gently to make sure the step didn't ground out against a dip in the road or get sideswiped by a passing car. However, before we had a chance to reach Walmart, we saw a Ford Dealer and I decided that since we were driving a Ford we would just stop there and buy a battery.

As it turned out, Ford had just the one we needed, and it was actually a more heavy-duty model than we had been running. That sounded fine to us, and the purchase was made and installed by a super nice chap, Dale. I told Dale that since our old battery was only less than four years old, he might try to keep it and use it for some light-duty application. I don't know if he decided to do that or not, but it would have been a good deal for him.

Since we were sitting in a fairly nice spot at the dealership, I decided to check all the under-dash fuses for a bad one that might be controlling the step, and I would replace the fuse AGAIN for the sliders. I replaced the slider fuse which fixed that problem, but much to my irritation, I found no other bad fuses that might control the step.

After leaving Ford, we set our GPS for Camping World to see if they might help us with the step problem. Once we arrived, thankfully without crashing the extended step against anything, I marched in to humbly request the advice of a technician who might know where the fuse was located that controlled the retraction of the step. But when I presented my problem at the front desk the woman said, "You mean now?"

I said, "ah, yeah. I just need a couple of minutes of someone's time for advice."

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "At this point we're making appointments in mid-December. But you could go talk to one of the service people over there." She indicated a nearby counter where a half dozen people were busy writing or talking on the phone.

Having nothing to lose, I dutifully approached the service desk and talked to the first person to look up. After I had explained to him that I only needed the advice of a technician, and I might be able to make the repair myself. The man sort of paused while he stared off into space, no doubt pondering just what he might do for me.

"Okay," he said finally. "There's only one guy who might be able to help you. I'll go back in the service bay and see if he can break away from what he's doing."

I thanked him profusely and off he went toward the back of the shop. It took him about ten minutes, but eventually he returned and told me that, sadly, his technician was right in the middle of a ticklish operation, and he just couldn't help me at that time.

Feelng none to cheery at that point, I was about to leave when I thought of a question. Since my original guy was on the phone, I asked another guy if they sold the step retraction motor at Camping World. Before the guy could answer, a nearby young woman said that they did, and if I would go out and crawl under the rig and write down whatever information might help her identify the specific motor unit, she would look it up and see if they had one in stock.

Well, I guess it was a tiny ray of hope, but I wasn't too thrilled with crawling under the rig in a hot parking lot with lots of traffic. But with no other alternatives, I left the store and trudged back to the rig. One of the lockers harbors a vinyl-covered exercise mat that I use for just such work under the rig. Before long, I had obtained the information needed by the service clerk, and I returned to her counterspace.

"Okay," she said. "I can get you an electronic module that controls the step operation and I can have it here by tomorrow morning if I order it right now. The cost will be two hundred dollars."

"Well," I said. "Since I don't really know if the module will fix my problem, I guess I don't want to do that."

The clerk said, "Okay, but I'll give you the order information so you could get one someday if you decide you want it. They are not available except through a third-party supplier as the part is obsolete.

So the clerk wrote down the information, and I wearily made my way back to the rig. I realized at that point that I could not drive the rig anywhere with the step in its lowered postion. I would have to find a way to raise it even if it was a semi-permanent correction. So I dragged out the exercise mat again, slid underneath, and disassembled the activation arm from the motor to the steel-step mechanism. This involved merely removing a cotter pin and clevis pin and swinging the activation arm out of the way.

At that point there was still a problem to tackle. How was I going to keep gravity from lowering the step on its own? But then I remembered that I carry a brand new jug of Home Depot bungie cords, and I retrieved one of those and successfully bungied off the step mechanism, hooking it to a stationary part of the frame.

The step problem "solved," at least as far as being able to drive safely, we loaded up and said adios to Amarillo. Since we had burned through a solid three hours in our pursuit of mechanical viability, our travel time had been drasticaly reduced. After taking an additional hour for lunch in a nearby farmer's field, our available running time had shrunk to about two hours. And that's how we ended up in the town of Sayre at the Bobcat Creek RV Camp in Oklahoma.

We didn't get very excited when we first read about the Sayre camp since it only had 15 spaces. But Bobcat Creek turned out to be a nice, quiet camp with level spots and a wonderful view. Plus, our nextdoor neighbor turned out to be a super friendly ex-California native like me who has moved his home to Kentucky and is on his way back to the "Golden State" to retrieve his stuff.

So, all's well that ends well. If we have to put up with the weird step arrangement until we get home, well so be it. Perhaps we'll run across a fellow camper at some point who will clue me in as to how the problem should be fixed. If not, perhaps fate will feel sorry for us, and the mechanism will simply come back to life. Whatever happens, I'm fine with it. I'm on vacation!

Ciao for now and we you wish an exciting, trouble-free vacation of your own! (Yeah, right!)

P.S. The windmill photos along the way are just thrown in for added interest. Texas is vitually carpeted with windmills. However, the elsusive "great windmill shot" for which I've been dilgently looking is still unrealized.