Sunday, April 29, 2012

Random Acts of RV'ing V 1.0

A new, irregular feature (you are welcome). There are some RV happenings that are not blog worthy, merely merit a comment. Here are 10 encounters over the past week:

A neighbor alerted us to momma blue bird who confused our hitch with a nest-ominium. In 2 days, she had a full compliment of straw in there. She was told to pay up or face eviction. Bye-bye birdy.

"Honey, I think that level bubble is off a tad".

Our first fatality. Someone didn't read the "125 lb. max weight" tag. Thanks for your collective gasp, the wife did a great job of picking the red rock out of my hair.

 We prefer camping, others like cramping.


My darling calls me Mr. Matchy-Matchy cause of my tendency to sync my cap with my shirt. Let me see---yellow head band, yellow and pink ear buds, yellow and pink top and a pink I-phone. Oh no matchy there, move along people.

You have trailer trash and then you have patriotic trailer trash. It's about the self-esteem.

Our clothing budget for the year is "0". My lovely seamstress is preparing me a pair of Daisy Dukes so I can get my strut on at Venice Beach.

While some of us save pennies in anticipation of sharing a Popsicle from an ice cream truck, there are others who evidently can buy an entire gallon.

True confessions of an RV stalker.

Teri thought this was funny commenting she could see two dumbbells in the photo.

There you go, ten gems of information that had no real value, just had to purge them from the RV brain to make room for some more.

The journey continues, day 23, from Bakersfield, CA.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Train Ride to the Big Hole.....

Roh, roh Scooby--- who forgot the camera?

J*U*S*T  K*I*D*D*I*N*G!

It wouldn't be a train ride through Arizona without a Wild West stage. I do not envy the guy who has to place the "street apples" in the center of the stage. Peeps--get your college degree.

Did someone say "bad economy"?

63 mile one way trip averaging 27 mph runs 364 days per year, ONLY 6 of those days are they powered by steam rather than diesel/veggie oil-- we were a steam day--woot! Steam train started service in 1901 at $3.75 per person, now $75.00-- those evil "Big Steam" companies!

Train entertainment-- an Indian musician outbound, country singer on return trip. And this guy even had a website-- when did the Navajos go all 21st century on us? Guess Amish web developers can't be far behind.

Fans in the desert--lizards and snakes rejoice!

Arrival! This was our very first view. As soon as your brain captures the image, it is permanently scarred into your cranium where it will remain as a free souvenir for the rest of one's life. Let the tour begin!

"Honey, About Your Girlfriend's Voice Mail" overlook.

Yes, I had to behave. Wife being all funny and stuff carrying the life insurance policy in her left hand.

Woops, where did husband go? Ka-ching!

Every once in awhile, Teri's entrepreneurial spirit flickers. She turned to me and said, "What would you think about a Zipline ride?" L-u-v it!

 I am thinking Summer Olympics-- just one year. I would pay to watch the Javelin throw. And then you get bonus points if it impales a hiker 5,000 feet below.

Anything to avoid the $25.00 National Parks admission fee.

Our host mentioned to be careful near the edges (remember, we paid $75 for such quality advice) as the Grand Canyon has had it share of deaths by fall. I won't even bother the whole Google research thing--let me guess, ages 18-30, alcohol, over zealous photographers--or a combination of such.

"Honey, do these shorts make my butt look big?" "Not with the backdrop of the Grand Canyon, babe." My so hawt wife taking in one last view (before she heads to cash in the life insurance policy).

On our return trip, two masked gunmen dismount their horses and run at the train. It seemed so real, well, until the train stopped and welcomed them aboard.

Note our host in the suspenders and how he is intervening to save the lives of his passengers. Also, based upon working in law enforcement of some sorts for 30 years, seem to recall armed robbers aren't fond of their pictures being taken. Could be wrong.

Ah yes, 18,000 gallons of water returned us home safely. Now, if I can just convert my 7.3 Ford diesel to such, we might be able to get 365 days out of this budget!

Til next time, the journey continues, day 21.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Not All Campgrounds Are Created Equal

Disclaimer: I gave this park a very good rating over at, but some things struck me funny. It was probably just me, you can decide. It almost felt like my twin sister called ahead and warned the staff of the arrival of the Texas RV Imbecile. "Yeah, give him a hand, he is known to confuse easily."
When we arrived in front of the office, my first thought--Woah--what is it with the 18" tall numbering at this park? Did the "International RV Assoc. for the Visually Impaired" just conclude their annual meeting? Or are those golf course pin markers? Maybe they are downhill skiing gates? I was tempted to ask Teri, "Honey, have you seen space #19? Humm, I don't see it either. Take a look at that campground map and maybe it will give us a hint." To top it off, a staff member walks over and points out the spot to you. "Thanks mam, couldn't have otherwise found it."

So that blue metal dumpster with the huge hinged lid, boxes peeking out and flies circling around is for trash? Well, yup, must be, says so right on the side of the container. That was a close call, cause I was headed that way with the laundry. Thank you sign.

Yup, do believe in zero-visibility fog I could have spotted the restrooms--from a 100 yards away. And if you read my previous post, you know that is important to me.

Looking at this, I was reminded of my 6 year old niece Brynn who loves to say "that be a good idea" as a means of influencing her request. For example, on a hot Summer day with a pool nearby, she would remark "Uncle D, it's very hot outside, you want to go swimming-- that be a good idea?" So, when I pulled up toward our spot I thought "Humm--let's put sewer ports every 6 feet, that be a good idea?" Personally, I don't find it a struggle to stretch my sewer hose 10 ft vs. 30 ft. As far as I know, every RV'er only has ONE sewer discharge on their rig, so who knows--perhaps for a family with dysentery issues?

Identical doors with one indicating Mens and the other Mens 2? It was like I was expecting Monty Hall to pop out and ask me to pick a door. Is one urinals and the other poopers, hence the 2? I entered both as I am a new generation explorer. The difference--drum roll-- nothing. Same number of urinals, commodes and shower stalls, just divided by a wall.Well, OK then.

"Keep Left"-- yes, it beats the option.

A thermometer--IN THE MENS' RESTROOMS?? Am I suppose to take action of some sort if it falls into the colored zones? Am I about to find bodies with toe tags? Maybe it's a self-service rectal thermometer? Some things are better left unlearned.

I recognize I am a charter member of the RV Club for the Challenged, but this really was laughable. It's like their insurance company said "the bigger and more frequent the signage, the lower your premiums". Or maybe it's a rehab camp for error-proned RVers (where I am soon to be sentenced).

Regardless, we had a good time in Holbrook, AZ.

And for those of you who have visited the OK RV park, this is day--

of this 1 year journey! (I hope the number was big enough).

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Tuesday (Toilet) Tour

We continue our periodic tour of one aspect of our Jayco Eagle Super-lite 5th wheeler.

The evolution of the RV resttoilet room:
Bubba: "Hey Junior, know what we forgot in our design?"
Jr: "Uhhh, what Bubba?"
Bubba: "A turlet".
Jr.: (scratching head) "I have an idea'er--remember your broom closet --think a stool would fit in there?"
Bubba: "Jr., you are a genius, I see why you was the Salutatorian at your 2 man high school."

And if memory serves me correctly, Bubba and Jr.'s mom was the first RV interior designer. I'll check Wikipedia.

So the folks from "everything is bigger in Texas" have moved into "everything is smaller in an RV" for a year. A real concern-- the toilet room. The seat does not measure up to USA posterior sizings. My XXL rear does not fit on the Ladies Junior Size 7 seat. So, I have relegated it as the princess throne opting myself to head off to the campground facilities when the 3 alarm bowel growl sounds.

                                    This is my view when I do the pot squat in our RV.

Oh, and whose idea was it to install the foot flush pedal? Each time I depress it I have this innate urge to straddle the seat and reach for the motorcycle throttle. And does anyone else get the temptation to stare down into the black hole and gawk in amazement at the poop pyramid-- you know you do, release your inner most pent-up recreational vehicle feelings.

Instructions on the toilet lid? Let's see, zero instructions at the trailer's hitch where you attach a 5 ton torpedo to your truck, but clear guidance on how to flush the brown torpedo. Got it.

I am a proponent of logic. What perplexes me is the ceiling high exhaust fan in the toilet room. Is it designed to remove moisture? I have been in the urination business for 53 years and have improved my aim not to be peeing up the walls. Or is there to remove noxious odors? If that is the primary purpose, why is it mounted high? Think about it--does not your buttocks actually seal off most of the smell wanting to escape. It seems most logical to engineer an exhaust pipe from the toilet bowl with a fan that attaches to the exterior wall, which, in every RV, is 6 inches away. For the technocrat in all of us, I would build in a gas sensor for self-activation. Now, I do admit, if you have friends sitting at the picnic table in proximity to the wall-mounted discharge fan, a courtesy notification is in order.

There you have it. Commode closet review complete.

Journey continues, day 12. A dozen trips to the campground latrine. Yes, like my blog posts, regularity.

...and why do I feel that my modest wife won't share this post to her Facebook account?

Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Sites of Albuquerque

The most frustrating part of our week stay--having to type A-L-B-U-Q-U-E-R-Q-U-E so many times performing our usual internet investigations of the area and foreseeable travel. Maybe the programming son can create another widget for me.

Some people want to do museums...parks....monuments....zoos...WE DO LOCAL FOOD! A sopapilla stuffed with marinated pork and cheese smothered with green chile from Mary and Titos in ghetto-town ABQ, where you find the best food and hope to find your vehicle when you return to the parking lot. They were huge, no way we could eat our own (hence the mirror in the background--(wink). I rated it 4 beads of sweat on a scale of 5.

Double Eagle II, Albuquerque's (seriously, where is my widget) GA (non-commercial) airport sat 7 miles due north of our RV park. With a scanner listening to the control tower, relaxing as it gets for me.

Teri clearly picking up my enthusiasm for aviation.

We went up and hiked Boca Negra canyon and visited Petroglyph National Monument, one of three areas with ancient Indian drawings on volcanic rock, many almost a 1,000 years old. There is nothing more fun than trying to look up and climb steep terrain while at the same time looking down for rattlesnakes. Now you see why we like food sight-seeing.


 Someone packed her turista gear.

Spending 22 years in Denver, just seems odd when you look EAST and see the mountain range soaring over Alb (u know the rest).

You can seriously blame the Indians for today's graffiti problems.

The secret to a 25+ yr marriage, reciprocating indulgences---my airports, her freaky food stores. Hey, the Sea Salt/Turbinado Sugar Dark Chocolate covered almonds were worth the shopper congestion on a Saturday!

Oh look, another museum, historic landmark food joint! Route 66 Diner, splendid vanilla milk shakes with real whip cream. Doing their duty to keep cardiologists gainfully employed.

Shocker, we did a real museum! Int'l. Ballon Museum north of town. Hey, it's aviation, what did you expect. 

The city plays host to 800,000 visitors each October, can't even fathom how this city fits them all in.

We bid you farewell tomorrow Albuquerque and your demonic winds. We will point our rig to the west and see what Arizona has to offer. Someone mentioned something about a big hole in the terrain in the northern region of the state, we will let you know if there is any truth to it.

Journey continues, day 10.