Departure sequence: Swear. Crank. CLUNK. Swear. Fix. Go.

Remember that day I said it was time for me to start learning how to do more of the “Tim stuff” with the RV? (It’s here, if you want to refresh your memory.)

Well yesterday, since we had to move from Point A to Point B, we chose to make it an Emily’s Learning Day.

We knew it would take a little longer to get through our pack-up-and-go routine, since we’d be doing everything together in sequence, instead of splitting the tasks into our usual concurrent lists of “He Does, She Does”.

Turns out it took a lot longer.

The landing gear motor quit working, which meant I had to learn where the cranking tool thingy is, and then use it to raise the legs manually, which meant that my arms eventually got tired, which meant that Tim took over with his stronger and fresher arms, and then that turned into CLUNK.

And that was followed immediately by, “Shit. That didn’t sound right.”

And then that turned into a delay of more than hour, because Tim had cranked the turny thingy one crank too many, and that broke the one part of the landing gear that was not already broken. So he fixed it.

Wait. You didn’t know about the landing gear issues? Ah. I swore about that first here, and again here. And since we’re picking up the second set of replacement legs this afternoon, I’ll probably be swearing about it a third time later.

Anyway, I ended up learning not only how to hook the RV to the truck all by myself (finally — and in practice, not just in theory), but also what a bottle jack is, and that we in fact have one onboard!

What broke? The fat metal pins that lock the front legs into place (which is up off the road) when we travel. To our great relief and amazement, we had a spare set on hand!
What broke, you ask?
The fat metal pins that lock the front legs into place (which is up off the road, thankyouverymuch) when we travel.
To our great relief and amazement, we had a spare set on hand! That’s one of the new ones on the left behind Tim’s head. The ol’ useless one is on the right.

I’d have more to report, but the legs were the wrong size

Before I start this post for real, allow me to show, for the idly curious among you, how our big blue crap hauler uh, hauls the crap. It gets a ride to the dump station! Three tanks (one black, two gray) means three trips, and we do this only when we stay longer than a week in a location that does not have an on-site sewer hookup.

I know it looks kind of petite for hauling with the BFT. Tim can, and has, pulled it himself, but at this park, the dump station is almost a mile away, and that’s a long way to schlep 42 gallons of anything — times three — by hand. (1 gallon of water = 8.34 pounds, so that tank weighs nearly 350 pounds when full.)

Wagons ho!
Shit wagon ho!

And now the real post:

In yet another case of project creep, replacing the landing gear switch to fix whatever-the-hell-was-wrong with the coach battery (details here) has turned into replacing pretty much everything having to do with the landing gear, and upgrading it to a dual switch operating system instead of single switch.

After multiple discussions with both the original manufacturer, and several local RV repair shops, Tim ended up ordering all the required materials from Texas RV Supply, which definitely received the largest slice of the paycheck pie this month. Whee. But at least we’re not paying for labor: Tim works for the satisfaction of it, and for regularly spaced transfusions of cold root beer or lemonade.

Anyway, he set out to get the job done on Friday morning, only to find that the new legs were the wrong. damn. size.

Not these legs. The metal ones, resting there on top of the stacks of yellow leveling blocks.
Not those legs. Those legs are fine.
It’s the metal ones, resting there on top of the stacks of yellow leveling blocks.

Sigh. Project suspended. New parts are due to arrive Monday afternoon, but on Tuesday, we’re rolling east for the 5-day Houston RV Show, and its seminars, gimme caps, people watching, and a special appearance on Saturday by — wait for it — Yogi Bear.

I know.

The question is, will Yogi’s presence be enough to distract us from what will no doubt manifest as raging cases of RV Envy?  There’ll be “600 sparkling brand new recreational vehicles in the climate controlled comfort of one of the nation’s top entertainment venues” — and I’m guessing not one of them has broken front landing gear.

Maybe we’d better leave the credit cards at home.