Category Archives: Winnebagos

Random Wounds

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Well, I did it again. I unintentionally harmed one of my favorite body parts while I was working to get the front replaced on the old Winnebago. I don’t think this injury is terminal, but it was for sure frightfully painful and an epic sphincter check.

Picture this … I’m standing about half way up an 8 foot step-ladder attempting to push this fiberglass cowl thing into position where it rests on top of the roof and rests just above the windshield. I’m stretching my little arms to position the piece and give one last little push that causes a similar reaction to my left foot which is the only foot on the ladder. My right knee is positioned precariously on the brace at the bottom of the windshield so when I pushed the ladder out I had a total of about 4 milliseconds to determine my fate and the fate of the roof part I had been working on for the past few days. It was either let go of the part, and hope it didn’t break to smithereens when it landed, then grab something sturdy to keep from breaking something in the vicinity of my legs, arms, or chest. Giving this situation careful consideration I determined a compromise was in order.

So, I pushed the roof part up and away from me, toward the roof, which opened up the area directly above the windshield which is imbedded in a sturdy steel frame. As I pushed I simultaneously rid myself of the ladder which left my feet with nothing but air. I intuitively bent my wrists in search of contact with something sturdy and found that bar of sharp steel I mentioned. It caught my left arm about an inch up my arm from my wrist and slowly pealed a few layers of skin into a barrier that stalled my descent enough that I could get my right knee off the windshield and put my foot on the bumper. Once that was accomplished, I released the pressure on my left arm and took a glance at the damage as I stepped to the ground and ran screaming to the house like a little girl about how bad it hurt. What I saw during my brief assessment of the wound was a nasty scrape and that ridge of multiple layers of skin pealed into the barrier I mentioned.

Once in the house, and I didn’t really scream like a little girl … I didn’t even scream at all … but it truly did hurt a great deal as I clasped it to my chest, looking for Diane so I could share, and get some help. Standing over the kitchen sink, in case it was gushing blood, I uncovered my arm and held it over the sink. It didn’t drip a bit and for that I was happy. No stitches would be necessary. It was just a nasty scrape which I could deal with.

Diane got a super sized band-aid, smeared it with antiseptic salve, and applied it over the wound. I can’t wait until tomorrow to see how many colors it will be. Should be festive. Right now it’s just a little swollen and very, very tender. Showering will be a challenge, but it must be done. Diane said I smelled pretty bad. Guess I better check my shorts, just in case.

PT & Winnebago Lights, & Flying Floormats

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Today I took Diane’s little convertible to Les Schwab for some new shoes. The ones it had were mismatched, and of a brand that is no longer manufactured, a bad sign for safety on the highway. So, I bit the bullet, wanting to keep my bride from participating in a thrilling game of bumper cars on Highway 30, and got her the best tires old Les sold. Another reason I felt the need to replace them is because it seems I’m the one who drives it the most. I still have the ’96 Subaru, but it’s going to hit the auction block today so it’s no longer a factor. Also, Diane told me I could fix the old truck. That’s major. I’ve probably shared all that before but this time it’s true.

After getting the tires installed I went about resurrecting the fog lights. The multi-function switch I ordered from eBay showed up yesterday, but I didn’t put it in until today because I had to get a new fuse to replace the one that wasn’t there. I knew the fogs lights worked because I did some fuse swappo-change-o to confirm using the one from the seat heater circuit.

Once the new switch was installed, the fog lights worked just great, after I got the correct size fuse. The first ones I bought were from NAPA and were too big because I simply failed to realize that, since it was a little car, it needed mini-blade fuses. The switch worked just great, but the turn signals didn’t. There was just nothing there. No little clicky sound or blinking lights on the dash-board. Nothing. So, I took the cowling off, which I shouldn’t have installed until I had confirmed that everything worked, and connected the old switch and confirmed that the blinky lights really worked. During this advanced troubleshooting sequence I felt the clicky part working under my hand leading me to the conclusion that the new switch didn’t come with the blinky relay. After a short pause, during which I surmised that this wasn’t unusual, I disconnected the old switch, removed the relay and installed it on the new switch, and connected it and confirmed that it worked just fine. Another successful day of “fixing” something. Then I tightened all the screws I’d removed, and called it good when I couldn’t find anything left over from the dismantling.

At that point I was in a light fixing frame of mind so I fired up the old motor home to see what didn’t work. I was gratified to discover that all the necessary lights work OK but some of the clearance lights don’t. I’m not worried about those, however, so just let them be.

While I was walking around the rig, with the engine running, I gave the old generator another chance to start, but it wouldn’t. It has a fuel problem like in it isn’t getting any. That’s a task for another day. If I need to run it for some reason, I’ll solve it.

A few days ago, after sharing a Subway sandwich at Wal*Mart, Diane and I spent a considerable amount of time trying to decide what kind of rubber, water-proof, floor mats to get for her PT. They have a large selection ranging from about $30 to $10. We settled on the cheap-o version which turned out to be rather prophetic since Diane lost them on the highway somewhere on her way to Bunco. You see, I’d placed them on top of the vehicle whilst emptying all the other stuff we purchased, and she didn’t see them when she jumped in and tore out of the driveway like that guy Mario. We can only surmise that she didn’t hit critical liftoff speed for the floor mats until she made the turn onto Pittsburgh Road. Now they are gone forever. We took solace in knowing we only lost the $10 version and that it could have been worse. She, of course, blames me for leaving them on the car, and I blame her for not seeing them laying there when she got in the car. I blamed her, of course, not taking into account that she’s much shorter in person and probably just couldn’t see them; and it was dark. So, ultimate, like normal, I must assume responsibility.

Now it’s time to go get some lunch somewhere to celebrate because I did all of the above without hurting myself even one time.

Leaky Winnie, Nurse Sarah, & # 700 !

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Today is the day I must fill in the hole to cover the new water supply line that was rammed through the foundation. The ditch in the yard is already filled and the sod was placed willy nilly because it kept falling apart while I was moving it. After pounding it into the soft soil with the nifty dirt tamper thingy it looks pretty good.

A couple of days ago, after two days of sunshine, I smeared a bunch of sealant around on top of the old Winnebago to stop a persistent leak that was giving me fits. When it rained the next time I was gratified to see I hit all the holes so there was no more leak. The next step is to fire it up and get it down to the Fred Meyer gas station so I can cash in on the $.45 a gallon credit we’ve built up buying bagels and whatnot this month. That will bring the price down to around $1.50 a gallon. Should be able to fill both tanks because I think they have a 75 gallon limit. We’ll see. Tomorrow. Maybe.

I discovered that Nurse Sarah was having a good time in Las Vegas recently, all the way from Connecticut, and I’m happy for her and the stranger she’s been hanging out with. One of these days, perhaps, we’ll get to be in the same vicinity so we can provide validation of her choices, and maybe even learn what his name is. I know she’s already got that from the right side of the country but it won’t be official until the left side has their say. Ya know?

Last Sunday we had what I thought would be my last Annual Meeting at our church as the iron fisted ruler. However, the meeting went so well, that I opted for another year. I don’t think anyone will try to unseat me from my throne of authority but if they do they’ll be in for the slap-fight of their life. Well, not really. I’ll happily step down for anyone willing to step up if they can knock me off my mountain. No, actually, I’ll gladly step aside and serve out my remaining time as a loyal minion.

For an added note of interest, this is my 700th post on this senseless blog.

Happy 1515

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Greetings to you all. If you are reading this I can only surmise that you survived whatever New Years celebration party you chose to attend, and that your gift of sight is still functioning. Could be, however, that some of you may have a third party reading this to you. Why anyone would do that is beyond me, but it could happen. I suppose.

It’s readily evident that Diane and I survived the festivities in good shape mainly because we avoided them. We watched the ball drop in New York, stayed up until 0100 New York time, then went to bed. A few revelers in the neighborhood popped off a few illegal fireworks to let everyone know they could read a clock and knew the precise moment when it turned to midnight. That’s OK. Happens every year the very same way, by the very same revelers. It’s expected to the point where the dogs didn’t even bark. They no longer bark on the 4th of July, either. They are self-taught, in this regard, with a lot of encouragement from we who no longer bark at fireworks.

Diane celebrated the 1st day of this new year by continuing the hacking and coughing cold I had over Christmas. I can share an informed guess that what she’s coughing up is a lot like the photo I shared in a previous post but she won’t share so that I can confirm.

As you may have guessed, not a lot transpired at this domain no New Years Day. Just waking up on the green side of the grass was a positive event. Actually, that’s a good one on any day. When it comes to waking up, green is good, you know. It’s also a primary color in the Oregon Ducks uniforms. Normally.

Speaking of the Ducks … their uniforms are quite the topic of conversation over here in the Far West because of the lack of color. My first take on them was, “where’s the yellow ‘O’, or the green one?” For the the inaugural NCAA championship game they are  gray and silver. After my initial disappointment I gave it a little thought and realized that the uniforms look like something a warrior might wear. Quite stunning, and appropriate. It’s going to be a good game and history will be made because, gee, there isn’t an ACC or SEC team involved which goes against everything the BCS computers stood for; those computers that everyone knows were developed and maintained by a Booster Club somewhere in Alabama.

January 2nd I attended the first Veteran’s Breakfast of the year mainly because Diane, between very productive coughs, insisted I go. It was a good visit with some old guys who used to wear uniforms for a living. Doing this meant I had to get up early and be ready to eat at 0800, something a little beyond normal for me. But, I did it. I couldn’t stay for the entire event because I had to be somewhere at 1000. I can’t remember what that was about, but I know I was on time.

On Saturday I left Diane at home, picked up her Mother, Jean, and joined Barb and Ron at the church so we could dismantle the Christmas tree and get it outside before it decided to spontaneously combust and burn the building down. That didn’t happen so it was a successful day. Also, I didn’t fall off the ladder which was a good thing because I’ve learned that as I increase in age my ability to bounce when I fall is drastically diminished. I’m sure that’s true for all of us. We just kind of land and jiggle for a bit. Then, when all motion has ceased, we evaluate our extremities to see what does and does not work. Sometimes a weak “ouch” or two escapes before the jiggling stops, but not always. Sometimes there isn’t enough air available for that until much later. There may have been times where I was unconscious but I don’t remember them.

Sunday found me at church with Diane’s Mom, Jean, to get the New Year off to a good start. I’m sure something else happened Sunday, but I can’t remember what it was. Surely there was a point in time where I made a light lunch for my bride as the next step in her recovery. At that point she didn’t have much of a voice because of the congestion, so I just fixed her something that I thought sounded like what she asked for. I think it might have been fried eggs and toast, one of her favorite comfort food groups.

Later in the evening I got a text from Whitney, the girl next door, asking me to please let her dogs out because she had taken Scott, the boy next door, to the emergency room to address an emergent medical condition. I did that for them. The dog’s names are Taylor and Trigger and they are well-behaved. It was raining but they didn’t mind. I let them run around for a while, fed them, gave them water, had them visit with out dogs for a while, but ushered them back to their cage in the garage. They went in with no problem. Good dogs.

Monday I got up fairly early and let the dogs out again and just left them out to run because they don’t run away even though one of them is still a puppy. By doing this I learned that they are both quite good excavators when they plowed up the flower beds along the basement wall on the south side of the house. It was a really nice job. I later learned that they had also expressed their love of dirt by churning up the raised flower beds out front. They had fun. Lots of it. Then they took their dirty little feet back into their cage with no complaint.

I worried about Scott all day Monday and was happy when he was released back into the wild before the sun set. At that time Cedric showed up so he could make a Power Point presentation for his church youth group. That was good because it meant he’d be there to help his Grandma get off the floor in the event she fell down while I was gone to our Lions Club meeting. We had a program presenter from Harlyn Medical which is an innovative company conveniently located in St. Helens. Our presenter was the company’s Chief Marketing Officer who, also conveniently, is the son of one of our club members. This young man and the rest of the executive team for the company is bringing cutting edge technology with a global impact home to St. Helens. Pretty cool.

Now it’s Tuesday, garbage day. Thankfully I remembered to put the cans out yesterday allowing me to avoid another early morning reason to get out of my pajamas. No, not that, but a reason to go outside before noon.

Did I mention that we sold the old 1973 Winnebago? Probably not because that happened Sunday, also. I just remembered. We sold it just two days after advertising it on Columbia County Buy Sell Trade internet site. It worked so well that I will be taking pictures of lots of things to post for sale, but next will be our 1996 Subaru. If  all goes well, in a couple of weeks we should be able to clean out at least one layer of “things” that are littering the basement floor, and lots of other stuff throughout the house that I don’t recognize. Then, in a couple of years we’ll remember we had something that was really useful at one time and know it’s in the basement somewhere but we can’t find it. Then we’ll buy another one, not remembering that we sold one just like it, a couple of years ago, for about half what we paid for the new one that could very well be the old one since it was purchased at a thrift store. I guess that’s kind of the circle of life for most “stuff”.

Now I must rest because I took Mom Jean shopping this afternoon. Diane sent me with a list and I got everything she wanted. That makes today a success.

Now … who figured out the 1515 reference in the title?

Random News From St. Helens

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Sometime during the night, a couple of weeks ago, someone invaded our street and filled a number of large pot holes near the N. Vernonia Road intersection with fresh asphalt. No one at our end of the street knows who did it and some residents are fearful this intruder may work his, or her, way up the street removing indents that have become a customary part of our drive home. Removing the need to dodge holes will take away the highlite of their day.

Weather in the Northwest part of St. Helens has turned soggy. The first few days it was a welcome relief from the incessant sunshine. The downside of this sudden shift from hot to chilly and wet resulted in the dreaded humidity similar to that found in Virginia this time of year. It’s brutal and soaks ones clothes with prodigious amounts of bodily fluids making them extremely difficult to remove in a hurry. This is a problem for older humans and generally ends in frustration and warm wet pants.

The rock wall, constructed by this abodes previous owner, that separates our property from the neighbors, is in a pile this morning. That’s because I knocked it down yesterday, deeming it a hazard to the your people now living next door. Now it must be replaced with something a little sturdier as the neighbors also have a new puppy named Trigger that is destined to grow into a very large dog. At this time, however, he cowers from 6 lb Ozzie who herded Trigger into a small basket full of sidewalk chalk on our back porch. No doubt he’ll remember this insult and seek resolution in the future.

Yesterday afternoon the new neighbor, Whitney, came to the house with her laptop seeking assistance to transfer her sacred files from the laptop to an external drive. The transfer was made and training was imparted to allow the owner the option of performing this feat in the comfort of her own home. During the process she was introduced to Diane’s favorite wine, muscato, which tastes a lot like really good cool aid.

JUST IN — from one of our nearby relatives, Jennifer, who reported that St. Helens High School is being evacuated and all the students are being sent to the school stadium where they were instructed to sit in alphabetical order with their first period class. Though nerve-wracking, it appears to us that a drill is being conducted in the same way we used to do it on ships at sea when one person is pulled aside, and sequestered, while teachers and administration staff attempt to determine who it is. Generally this drill is conducted at sea when someone falls over board and it is important to know who it is. Hopefully no one at the school has been injured. We just learned that the students are being bussed to a nearby village and whatever the threat is, it is apparently a real issue. Still sounds like authorities are looking for someone.

UPDATE – according to KOIN Channel 6 news, authorities suspect there are explosives in the school. Not good.

For Sale …

On the lighter side, I am in custody of some raffle tickets being sold by American Legion Post 42. The winner get an AR-15 sports rifle. Second and Third place winners will receive a monetary prize. The drawing will be on November 11th at 11:11 a.m. at the Veteran’s Memorial in McCormick Park, St. Helens. Tickets cost $10 each with a maximum of 500 being sold. if you want one, let me know.

I also have a 1968 Chevrolet C-20, fleetside, long bed, 2-wheel drive pickup for sale. It is powered by a 1973 Corvette 454 BBC bored over to 462 that has an RV cam installed and is capable of towing a fairly large house. Asking $2500 OBO. If you’re interested, let me know.

There is also a Class A 1979 Winnebago Brave for sale at this location. It’s road ready and needs only a bit of attention to replace a cabinet above the cab area up front. It’s a steal at $1500 OBO. If you’re interested, let me know.

Now I must quit and ponder what’s going on at the school with our grandchildren …

Today’s Lesson & My Finger

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At church this morning our First Reading, which was listed as the Second Reading, was from Romans 12:9-21. Nancy was the reader which was awesome because I’m supposed to be in charge of getting readers, but I never do it. There’s always someone stepping up to get it done, mainly Nancy and Diane. They save my bacon a lot.

Pastor commented that this reading could also serve as another list of commandments because they share a lot in common. It’s true, they do. I just have one comment, then I will move along.

The lesson starts out just fine with “Let love be genuine; …” then fades right in to an area that I’ve been taught my entire life to avoid when it continues, “hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; …”.

On the surface, the last part kind of evens out, but I’ve been taught to not “hate” anything. So, that’s a really harsh word for me to comprehend during church service. I can live with “don’t like,” and similar words of discontent, as can Diane. She just hates it when I say I hate something so I tend to not use it, when I remember.

The rest of the lesson is filled with flowery words that repeatedly state that we should just like each other, you know? It’s pretty simple stuff when you whittle it all down to the basics.

Yesterday it rained for the first time in the last year and a half. It was really refreshing. Cleared the air and settled the dust next to the garage where I’ve been moving rocks and dirt around for the last few weeks. It caused our new neighbors, Scott & Whitney, a little distress because they’re trying to paint their house. It was grey and they’re painting it a really nice green. Diane and I are really happy that I took down the trees between the houses because it’s easier to keep track of how they’re doing. Before it was all blocked by that huge overgrown hedge. What’s more significant about the rain was that none of it seeped into the old motor homes because I spent some time on the roof spreading around various kinds of sealant to ovoid that nasty mess.

In the process, because I chose to ignore the gloves laying next to my right knee, my right pointing finger suffered a life-threatening injury as I slowly smoothed out the sealant over an area of exposed aluminum roofing that did not want me to do it. It hurt a lot, but I had to do it because I felt the timing was just right for me to alter my finger print a little. Also, I couldn’t quit because I knew the rain was coming … the weather woman told me. Then, after filling all potential access points to the interior, I removed myself from the roof, picked up my tools, and put them all away. Then I went to work on my finger.

As you can see, it wound up a mess because I had to pick up some of the tools from the yard where I tossed them …

IMG_0090You can see the blood seeping through the grass stuck to my finger, but I ended that by scrubbing all the contaminated areas with turpentine. Although it hurt a great deal more than obtaining the cut, it served well to seal the leak in my body. After the first 15 minutes, or so, I was used to the pain of scrubbing the sealant that was clinging desperately to my hand. In all, it took about 30 minutes to make it all go away. In hindsight, I wonder if gasoline would have worked better.

Once I got the turpentine smell removed with soap and water, I was allowed to enter the house and relax a bit. I have no coherent memory of leaving the house again, so I guess I stayed inside and watched football the rest of the day. Being Saturday, I’m sure that’s what I did.

Today my finger is still sore, and it hurts to type but I was compelled to complete this missive so none of you would worry about me continue to leak, in case you heard about my mishap from someone with less knowledge about the incident.

Oh Ya … it really hasn’t been a year and a half since the last rain. It’s more like a couple of weeks. But, considering this is “rainy Oregon”, we’ve received surprisingly little rain. I believe Phoenix, AZ recently got more rain in a couple of hours than we’ve had all year. Interesting.

 

Gardening, Mechanic-ing, and Lumberjacking

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Yesterday I was a mechanic and a landscape artist. The landscape part was fairly straight forward and didn’t provide anything new for me in the way of knowledge. It was simply a matter of removing most of the green growing things along the west side of our garage. There were challenges, however, because this form of artistry hasn’t been done in that location, to the degree I attained yesterday, since we took up residency. I took out pretty much everything except the group of flowers, the name of which I can’t remember, the baby’s breath, and the Andromeda bush. I have to admit that I did extract a great deal of Baby’s Breath before determining it wasn’t really a weed. During this process I discovered that Baby’s Breath erupts from the ground from one really long horizontal root. Really interesting. Most of the other stuff was just grass, dandelions, and interesting curly cue corms that produce a lot of roots, nice leaves and pretty flowers. The corms themselves look a little like flying saucers with tentacles. I saved all the ones I pulled up so Diane can plant them wherever she wants. The corms are the consistency of potatoes. Maybe we can eat them. Might have to try that.

Before playing gardener, I played mechanic and I learned two things that will come in handy in my future life, I’m sure. This knowledge was imparted while working on the ’73 Winnebago. The goal for that was to make it run so it could be moved out of the way of today’s lumberjack activities, the details of which will be forthcoming a little later.

The first thing I discovered, after installing batteries into the RV, was that the 12V system powering the domestic lights. There wasn’t, however, power to the 12V system that made the engine run. No ignition, no running lights, no headlights, tail lights, things like that. So, it became a troubleshooting evolution to determine why. After three trips under the rig, in the vicinity of the battery tray,  I emerged each time a little more wise about the way electricity works in a Winnebago, and that the position of the driver’s oversize rearview mirror doesn’t move, even when you bang your head into it. I discovered the mirror thing three times, on the exact same spot on the right side of my forehead. That’s how I discovered it doesn’t move. If it did, it would have hit in different spots each time, but it didn’t. It’s really sore.

On the second trip under the rig I discovered the value of a fusible link. That’s something  like a real fuse that blows up if it’s exposed to too much electricity. According to the wiring schematics, which I can actually read, there are two fusible links connected to the circuit very near the batteries. The one I found was destroyed, like blown to bits, and I immediately remembered a time last fall when I was attempting to connect newly recharged batteries. There was a little spark on connecting the second cable of the battery. It looked like success at the time, but but turns out the corroded cables I connected were both of the positive wires thereby making a direct short across the battery terminals. The fact that the battery didn’t implode was because the connectors were corroded. That was good news. I’m pretty sure this had a profound effect o there fusible link.

Not having a fusible link to replace the one that crumbled in my hands, I took two short 12 gauge wires from some wire I had in the basement. I twisted them together and installed them in place of the blown fusible link. This creative solution is temporary, of course, unless I forget. But, it worked. The old Winnebago cranked right up, smooth as a sewing machine.

After it warmed up, I put it in gear and pulled it out of its old home, and headed for its new spot across the street. It was exciting to learn the brakes worked because the last time I drove it, they didn’t, and I ran into the house. You may remember that from a previous post. Or not.

I got it parked, but not exactly where I wanted it because the old truck was in the way. I couldn’t move it because the battery died a couple of days ago, and when I put a recharged one in the started gear didn’t mesh well with the flywheel, and ground off the tops of a few teeth. This created a situation where I found it necessary to shim up the outer bolt on the starter in order to rotate the gears into closer proximity. Happily that was the solution and the truck started, then died. It was out of gas, this time, so I took care of that, and got it running. The fact that it sounds a bit like an old John Deere tractor isn’t a problem, yet. It runs, and I got it moved.

Then I ended the day doing the gardening mentioned above.

Today I found the electric chain saw, oiled it up, adjusted it, and went to work cutting down all the trees within reach of our green extension cord. That’s not true or I would have taken down the birch tree out front. I think it’s a birch. I just removed the 20 cedar trees between us and our west side neighbors. It looks a bit naked right now, but that will change once the fence goes up.

That’s a project for another day, after the new neighbors take up residency at the end of May.

Now I’m tired and Diane said I have to go to bed.

Winnebagos, Pickups, and DVRs

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OK … so here we are in Oceanside, California. The sun is shining and we’re overpowered by the desire to jump in our pickup, hook up our trailer, and head for the beach. Any beach. The problem is, however, that we do not have a pickup or a trailer. And, we’re already at the beach.

So, we’ve decided to check out the local dealers in the area and see what kind of deals we can make for the truck and trailer we want. They’ve already been picked out, of course. Like weeks ago. At that time we decided we were going to use common sense for those purchases instead of doing the impulse buys we’ve done our whole lives.

Then, we thought, “why change now?” So, we’re just going out there and get a 2014 1/2 Chevy Silverado High Country and a Winnebago One 26RK trailer. Then, when we get home, we’re going to sell the house, give everything away, and take off. To somewhere. Like the Zumwalts did. It’s like a dream come true.

Just as I finished that I saw a commercial for Cox Television advertising their new DVR that can record six … SIX … shows at one time! Totally awesome! Seeing that made me change our minds about the trailer and truck … for now … and go home to campaign Comcast to get one of those for us. If they can, all plans are off for getting the trailer today. Unless they can make it mobile, of course.

Oh yeah, “Happy April Fools Day” !!

Gear Head Stuff & Karma

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Now, I’m not a real Gear Head, Like Don, but I try. Sometime’s I’m even successful which surprises me when it happens. Such was the case today when, left unsupervised, while Diane took her Mom to the doctor to check out her head, I left the house brimming with confidence that I would accomplish my missions.

One of them was the old ’68 truck. As you may remember, I left it in a shambles with no electricity making it to the necessary wires that would ignite the engine. So, this morning, I went to work as if it wasn’t a problem, put it all back together, and it actually started right up. Oh, there’s a few extra wires hanging around, and I didn’t reinstall the radio or the heater controls, but it works. So do the turn signals, and the windshield wipers, the reason for dismantling it in the first place. One of the added benefits of getting the truck going was that I was able to move it so I could find the socket I dropped a couple of weeks ago. Many of you are probably surprised that I remembered to look for it.

I share this news as though everything went just as smooth as glass, but that’s not the case. I discovered what happens when the tiny little tube isn’t reconnected to the oil pressure gauge. Any guesses? Well, lets just say I’m no longer allowed to wear those sneakers in the house, and I’ll probably have to toss the socks I was wearing.

That reminds me … I should probably connect the speedo, too.

But it runs in an excellent manner.

From the truck I went directly to the ’79 Winnebago. It’s a tough bugger to get started but I know the trick. First I removed the engine cover inside the cab. Then I plunked myself into the driver’s seat and removed the air cleaner cover. That’s necessary in order to spray starting fluid into the carburetor, which I did. This is complicated, however, by the tricky ignition I’ve got. Actually, it’s not tricky. I had a button connected to the starter at some point in time, and it fell off one day. Since I’ve not found it necessary to reinstall it, I just turn the key on and hold the wires together, spraying starting fluid in the carburetor, until something ignites. So far, using that method, the only thing that ignites is the fuel in the engine. That’s because I really don’t spray while the engine is turning.

It started pretty quickly, surprising me, so I let it set and run until the exhausts quick smoking. That didn’t take as long as normal, either.

Then, I moved next door to the ’73 Winnebago to see if I could get it started. I know it will run, but it hasn’t been started in a while so I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

First, I needed to install one of the batteries just happen to have in the garage. There are three of them, and they all, happily still had a full charge which was applied before I gave my old battery charger away.

Before I took the battery out, however, I decided to do a little pruning. The border trees I parked next to were in the way so I just whacked a bunch of branches off until I could access the battery tray.

With the battery in place I randomly attached two of the four wires in the vicinity and achieved a satisfying spark indicating ‘something’ was connected. Back in the cabin, no matter how hard I turned the ignition key, I couldn’t get it to do anything. So, I went back out and disconnected the battery cables and contemplated which two to connect next. While pondering, I checked the battery terminals, noticing that they are a bit corroded, and the terminal ends of the cables previously used. Turns out the spark i achieved was thankfully brief because had it actually made adequate contact the battery would have imploded. The two I chose first created a direct short between the terminals.

The second and third time I was more careful. I discovered which two powered the 12V lighting, but using the 2nd positive cable still did not result in ignition. So, I figured Karma was telling me to go do something else. So, I did.

I removed the ’79 rig from the driveway so Diane’s Bunco Babes will be able to park 4 vehicles on the house side of the street. The latecomers will have to park across the street.

Now it’s getting late and I must terminate my activity for the day. Lydia has her first high school softball game today at 1630 and I must be there. I have 1.5 hours to get ready. Sadly, I can only watch 1/2 an hour of it because I have another PT session at 1700. Another reason I must quit is because Diane made it back home and reported that I “stink” of mechanical stuff and must wash.

So, I’ll do that.

2013 – The End

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I’m not going to bore everyone by sharing all the things that transpired over the past 364.75 days for a couple of reasons. 1) You’ve already heard about most of it if the news you watch chose to share it with you, and 2) I can’t possibly remember all of it. One thing I do remember is that everyone in St. Helens, except me, is sick on this last day of the year. It is my understanding that this epidemic is not restricted to my immediate area – folks on the East Coast have reported incidents too. I can understand that because they are ending the year with some pretty exciting weather events. We, here in St. Helens, cannot blame the weather for the ailments folks are experiencing. All we’ve had is cold weather. Not terribly cold, just cold for us. Maybe just chilly according to those who live in areas where the mercury drops well below zero degrees more often than not.

Nossir! I blame this outbreak on Little Kids because they sneeze on their hands, then wipe them, and their noses, on Real People most often while sharing a hug. I believe they are taught this trick in Little Kid School, which they attend when no one is looking, in order to make everyone taller than them ill enough to even the playing field when it comes time for cookies. They know, all of them, that a sick Real Person will give them anything they want if they just leave the RP alone. They will deny this, of course, because that’s what they’re taught to do at LKS.

At this point I must clarify the difference between LKs and RPs. LKs are mostly just potential epidemics on really short legs. RPs, by contrast, have longer legs but no longer have the ability to infect anyone with anything. I suppose that’s not entirely true, but that’s not pertinent. It’s kinda right, and that’s good enough for me.

Don’t get me wrong because I think Little Kids are awesome, even when their little noses are exuding a very salty mixture of puss and mucous all over their lips, which they end up wiping on their sleeves, because their tongues aren’t long enough. I can say this with authority because its one of the more memorable things I recall from my indentured servitude as a Little Kid. When I was a Little Kid, however, things were different. Now it snot.

When I started this, at 1958, it was my intention to terminate it at 2013. Though I could lie, and tell you I did it, I won’t. I don’t lie. I fabricate. It would have been neat, however, to bid you all adieu on 12/31 2013 at 2013. Now I can’t.

As I scribble, Diane is watching all the back episodes of Downton Abbey so she’ll be all up to speed for the premier which is going to happen soon. I kinda like the show, and have watched some of the last episodes with her, but when I start remembering what’s going to happen I need to quit because it’s no longer interesting to me. I will be watching the new season because I have no idea what’s going to happen, and I love the accents. My favorite person is Daisy who works in the kitchen. I think that’s her name. She’s the one who was going to marry William, I think, but he was killed in the war, or somewhere else. Now his father is teaching her to run the farm because he wants her to have it. Something like that.

We planned to visit Keizer, Oregon to bring in the New Year with some old Winnebago friends … no … friends who have old Winnebagos. When Diane came up very congested this morning, however, we nixed that trip, not wanting to contaminate anyone else. So far, I’m doing OK, in case you’re wondering.

Part of my evening was spent in the basement ripping my work bench apart. You may remember that I complained about it in an earlier blog and suggested that I might do this. Since we are sequestered for the night, I thought it might be a good time to continue that effort, so I did. The challenge was working around the electrical connections that were mounted in the front edge of the work surface. I just cut around them, leaving the rewiring effort for another day when I have company available to call 911, should it be necessary.

Here’s what it looks like down there now …

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This half of the workbench is going to be configured so I can sit in a chair and do “stuff”. The other half will be lower to the height of my table saw. I’ll just have to do something with all that wire. During this evolution I found an entire gallon of Liquid Nails so maybe I’ll just glue those 2×4’s against the back wall and call it good.

We hope everyone has a safe transition from 2013 to 2014. I won’t say that “I hope you all had a good year,” because you either did, or you didn’t. Me “hoping” you did won’t change that.

I can, however, “hope you all have a wonderful, safe, productive 2014. May you all win the lottery.”

Now it’s 2113 so I’ll stop.