Sagabite

Mr Canada sent in another story about his RV problems before his trip even started:

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The house in Florida was sold, the house in Canada was purchased; all that remained was to drive the RV the 1000+ miles to our new home.  We had spent a week in a local RV park, finalizing paperwork and stocking up for the trip.

Although a mechanic had thoroughly checked out the 1985 Winnebago and pronounced her fit to make the long journey, we were going to stop in there for propane and one final go-over before having a few tires replaced on the other side of town.  The plan was to hit the road about noon, and spend the first night in Georgia, some 6 hours north.

We hit the RV mechanic’s early-they closed at noon- filled up the propane tank, and he gave us the green light to go.  The tire upgrade was going to take an hour or so, so we should be on I-95 by noon,  and stopped for the night before dark.

There was a restaurant within walking distance of where we were having the tires replaced, and we had arranged to meet a friend there for a good-bye breakfast.  I could see the RV through the window, and I noticed that no one had yet moved it into the bay.  I was not too worried; maybe they were just busy.  We finished breakfast and headed back over to find out how long this was going to take.

Come to find out, the battery was dead- it was not holding a charge.  As the battery was new, the conclusion was it must be the alternator.  So, we will need to drive back to the mechanic’s on a borrowed battery and have a new alternator installed.  No problem (actually I was quite happy it happened here rather than on the road), except that by now the repair shop is closed, and won’t open again until Monday.

It took the better part of Monday to get the alternator installed, and it was 5:00 or so by the time we gassed up the RV and pulled onto I-95.  We decided to drive until dark and then sleep and start out fresh the next morning.  Georgia was not going to happen on this first day, but at least we would get started.

We weren’t even to the first exit when something quite disturbing happened.  Anyone who has driven anything larger than a pick-up knows the importance of side mirrors.  At 70 miles per hour, less than 5 miles into the trip, the driver’s side window fell down.  Slowly.  One minute I had a perfect view of the traffic in the left hand lane, the next I was watching helplessly as the view changed from traffic, to pavement, then nothing.

Fatigue, frustration and inexperience had me doubting that I could even pull off this trip at all.  What the hell was I thinking?

Thankfully, having no other choice really, I re-gained my cool long enough to make it to the next exit.  A quick tightening with a hex key, and that mirror never budged for the rest of the trip.  At this point though, I was dreading the working out of an unknown number of kinks that might pop-up along the way.