Water Woes Fixed!

In Spring, Texas (Houston)…

This post memorializes the replacement of Phannie’s fresh water pump. The tiny and miserly version installed at the factory was woefully inadequate to supply the multiple outlets in the coach when we are in a travel mode, but we limped along with it until a few days ago, when the puny little stream it produced slowed to a trickle from one faucet and nothing at all in the others. 

Old pump pressure (ugh)

This was a situation “up with which we would not put!” (A tortured phrase attributed to Winston Churchill in his effort to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition.) Sandy's idea of proper RVing is for the coach to be indistinguishable from, well, a hotel suite and, I must say, so do I. And no hotel, even in Death Valley, ever had water pressure this low.  It remains a mystery why Tiffin thought it was a good idea to equip their expensive coaches with an anemic little pulse-style pump retailing for $65.

Completely fed up, I strode into the parts department of nearby DeMontrond RV and told them I wanted the biggest, baddest water pump they had. I told them I wanted one  that would produce a stream of water that would power a jet ski.  They looked through their inventory and came up with this one, made by Remco and ringing up for over 200 bucks:

New pump!

After a quick installation by Johnny Besier of Northwest RV in Tomball, TX (281-370-0060), we fired up the pump and marveled at the water flow that now rivals or beats that of any city water source we’ve used:

Now, that's more like it!

Problem solved!  (Now I’m thinking about renting Phannie out as a fire truck.)

Guys' Turn to Treat the Ladies: First Monday Trade Days in Canton

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

I’m getting close to recovering from the girls’ annual pilgrimage to First Monday Trade Days in Canton, Texas last weekend.  I’m not entirely sure how it was that I got roped into this unnatural (for guys) shopping orgy the first time three years ago, but it wasn’t due to a threat of blackmail. Fortunately, I lead a boringly clean life, so there’s not much out there about which I might be embarrassed through public disclosure (I think).  This, then, leads to the troubling conclusion that I’m just stupid.  But so is Bubba.

Bubba and I bring our rigs each November to Mill Creek Ranch RV Resort in Canton, occupying spaces that must be reserved two years in advance.  (Yes, it’s that popular during trade days.)  This bucolic place has RV sites and cottages for rent, and we usually secure a cottage along with the RV sites.  This ensures room for any females who might stow away in one of the vehicles after learning of the impending shopping trip.  Sandy, LouAnn and Mindy do their best to keep this trip quiet, but the word usually gets out. And it’s really poor form to have to use pepper spray on their own friends to keep them off the bus.

First, let me make clear that it is only the ladies who actually enter into the teeming masses flowing in and out of the countless trading sheds.  Bubba and I claim agoraphobia; I don’t think the girls buy it, but whatever works, right?  (Actually, I’m pretty sure they had just as soon not have us there.)  We do provide support, however--as cooks, chauffeurs and bankers.  Fortunately for my wallet, Sandy and I are well beyond the ‘acquisition’ period of our lives and have been downsizing and discarding stuff for years, so her purchases are usually confined to things for Mason and our other soon-to-arrive grandson. 

Here are some photos of Mill Creek Ranch Resort that attest to the attractiveness of this facility:

The Grand Lodge (Borrowed From Mill Creek Website)

Mill Creek Office

Rental Cottages

Mill Creek Pond

Bubba's Coach Woody (don't ask) and Phannie

“First Monday,” as this madness at Canton is called, occurs on the weekend just prior to the first Monday in every month but, oddly, not on Monday.  Confused?  So am I.  It would be incorrect to call it a flea market; I think it would be more accurate to call it a craft market. But then, I’m not an authority; I think I walked around some of the pavilions about 20 years ago, so I might have to (shudder) go out there again next year to gain a fresh perspective and some representative photos.

Here are some photos from the girls' camera phones during their shopping frenzy:

First Monday Main Gate

Aprons in a Shop (All of the children and grandchildren represented by the shoppers are boys; if there were any girls, I would surely be broke.)

LouAnn looking at--well, who knows what.

As you might imagine, all of this ‘carrying on’ that we guys do is just in fun. It’s always gratifying to see the girls having such a good time during this one weekend trip when it’s all about them.  Tyler took Mason to a weekend outing with his family in Huntsville, so Sandy, LouAnn, Mindy, Brenda, Sarah and various others who rotated through the group had a grand time without having to tend to the kiddos or any household chores.  Now that it’s over, they need to get back to work taking care of us guys, as is the way nature intended, right?  

Lifestyle Label: What is Ours?

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

As we pass the two-month mark after my retirement, we’re still not sure what our RV lifestyle is.  While we have made a couple of short stays at our stick and brick house in Fort Worth, Phannie has largely been our home during that time.  Still giddy at my newly found freedom, we have just sort of decided to go wherever we wish to go and for as long as we wish to stay.  Our lack of a tether has been a godsend to us--and especially to Sandy, who doesn’t like being too great a distance from our daughter Mindy and her growing family in Houston.  It seems that Fort Worth indeed qualifies as too distant, so Phannie has become our Houston base for now.  With a few exceptions for some side trips, this will likely be the case until after our new grandson arrives in January.  

We are mindful that, in some cases, a too-close proximity of parental units can have some unintended and undesirable consequences for young families, so we make every effort to be extra sensitive to their need for independence, offering only as much help and companionship as they desire.  Having our own living quarters seems to be the key to making this work, hopefully without seeming to be underfoot.  Fortunately, Mindy has always been very close to us and seems genuinely glad to have us around.  Her husband, Tyler, has proven to be devoted husband and father, and he has never failed to make us feel welcome.  And then, of course, there is grandson Mason, who is always excited to see us; need I say more? 

Oddly, when we have returned to our house in Fort Worth, it seems a strange and unfamiliar place for a while. If we don’t bring Phannie with us, as was the case during our last visit, the empty RV port seems peculiar.  The house doesn’t seem visually complete with nothing to fill the large vacant space.  Even with the state-of-the-art security system and video surveillance equipment installed, we can’t help being a bit nervous when we are away. However, we can monitor the exterior and interior of the house on our cell phones via cameras linked via a video feed. Full-timers reading this must take some comfort in their freedom from this kind of worry and the expense involved, but we're still not sure if that is enough reason to give up our nice custom-built digs.

There are other issues.  For one thing, the refrigerators at the house are largely empty when we’re out on the road.  Leaving them running for the few items they contain seems pretty wasteful of electricity, but the freezers need to keep operating. The other charges for utilities continue as well, even though we’re not using them, either. 

There is always something that needs to be maintained or fixed.  Even though the house is relatively new and designed for minimal upkeep, something inevitably needs attention on the inside or outside. Full-timers really score an advantage here.

We have to stop and start the mail when we go away.  The post office will hold our mail for 30 days, so we haven’t yet elected to employ a mail forwarding service, as we make it home sometime during the 30-day period.

We will be heading to Canton on Friday for the First Monday Trade Days insanity.  Sister-in-law Brenda and our daughter Mindy and a couple of friends will be joining us, along with Bubba and LouAnn. We always have a good time doing this, but I'm going to have to pull out the couch cushions and look for some "mad money" for the girls' shopping spree.  If only it were that simple!

I don't know, maybe we don't need a lifestyle label.  I regularly read Al Bossence's blog, the Bayfield Bunch, and he doesn't appear to fret about a lifestyle label, even though he and Kelly have a home in Canada and one in Arizona, in addition to an RV.  Whew!

Ah, well, our lifestyle is what it is; there's really no reason to fret about it; we'll just keep movin' on and figuring it out.

Dinner with RV Friends

In Beaumont, Texas...

When we learned that Ed and Marilyn would be stopping in Beaumont on their way to their winter home in the Rio Grande Valley, it was an easy decision to ask them to meet us for dinner.  At our current location near Conroe, it was a drive of less than two hours to Beaumont and the Gulf Shores RV Resort.  We instantly remembered this park when we arrived, as it has the distinction of being the very first overnight stop for us when Sandy and I began RVing back in 2005.  I immediately thought of how little we knew about what we were doing then, but we have had lots of fun over the years learning the ropes.

Ed and Marilyn greeted us warmly with hugs and smiles--even Ed, who was suffering from a cold.  

Marilyn and Sandy, glad to see each other again.  Ed and I were glad to see each other  too, but we guys are a little sensitive about our hugging photos.  Besides, Ed's not that great a hug 'cause he's kinda bony.  

Sandy had spotted their rig right away as we pulled into the park.  It was easily identifiable due to the length of the three-vehicle assemblage.  I thought about making a joke about their obvious need for a caboose, but I figured it would be better to wait a little while before embarrassing Sandy.  That would come soon enough.

Marilyn and Ed and the Rio Grand Valley Limited

We picked Floyd's Cajun Seafood as the restaurant of choice and had way too much of some of their tasty fish, shrimp and crab dishes.  We caught each other up as much as we could while lingering over the meal, enjoying fits of laughter as we talked about our adventures.  Ed even generously bought our dinner (Thanks, Ed; when we get to the Valley, I will reciprocate.  You can even count on upgrading to large fries in your value meal!) 

Ed and Marilyn at Floyd's, listening to one of Sandy's stories.  She has many. Very many.

We made plans for a trip to the Rio Grande Valley in February, so that they can show us around.  I confessed to Ed that, as a native Texan, I was embarrassed by how little exposure I have had to this part of my great state.  We are looking forward to a fun time there this winter.

A favorite photo of a great couple of friends

After dinner, we bade farewell to this fine couple, electing not to tarry and possibly hinder Ed from resting his cold.  Safe travels, y'all!

Fun With Our "Kids"

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

Following our disappointing tour of Thousand Trails at Lake Conroe, we took up residence at Woodland Lakes RV Resort near The Woodlands.  This is a nice park with a couple of small ponds where wild ducks gather to be fed by the owners and tenants and where you can almost always catch a fish if you're so inclined.  I am not much of a fisherman, however.  My idea of a fishing trip is a trek to a restaurant where the seafood that was caught, cleaned and cooked is served fresh and hot.  Such was the case when we celebrated Mindy's birthday at the Monument Inn near LaPorte, Texas.  Overlooking the Houston ship channel, Mason was transfixed by the unending parade of vessels that passed by. The food was excellent, and everyone had a great time.

Tyler, Mindy and Mason, cutting up for the camera at the Monument Inn

Later, I took Mason on a duck feeding patrol at the RV park.  This didn't turn out all that well, as the wild ducks weren't quite tame enough to venture too close.  Mason enjoyed the outing, however, and after several attempts to corral the ducks, he pronounced them "tricky."  I had to agree.  

Poppy and grandson Mason, hunting the ducks.  Now I ask you, is there anything Poppy likes better than this?  Not much.

The next couple of days, I offered to contribute my culinary skills--such as they are--so that  Sandy and Mindy could spend the day goofing off shopping.  I fired up the Traeger smoker and barbecued  a dead chicken which was well received by the weary shoppers and Tyler, who joined in after w*rk.  (I just can't bring myself to type that awful word.) The next day, I used the huge leftover chicken breast to make a killer chicken salad with celery, grapes and walnuts.  We ate it on fresh cranberry bread and boy, was it good!

Since I was on a roll, I picked up a couple of racks of baby back ribs the next day and cooked them on the Traeger. I didn't have all the ingredients for my usual rub, so I made do with a combination of commercial pork rub and Montreal Steak seasoning.  Near the end of cooking, I slathered the ribs with Sweet Baby Ray's barbecue sauce to which I added melted butter and some orange marmalade. (Please don't tell my doctor.)  I sent a rack home with the kids, and Sandy and I confess to eating every bite of the remaining rack.  Yum!

By the way, if you don't have one of the super little Traeger PTG (Portable Traeger Grill) smokers, you should get one.  This is a mini version of my larger Lil' Tex Traeger grill at home, and it is so easy to use this wood pellet smoker on our trips.  Just load the grill, turn it on and forget it until you're ready to eat.

  
Tomorrow, I'll be cooking my relatively famous chicken and dumplings (that means they are famous mainly among relatives), and Sandy will be baking something chocolate (Mason's favorite, but I'm sure that didn't enter into the decision.)  

We are looking forward to meeting fulltime friends Ed and Marilyn in Beaumont on Friday for some cajun seafood. We always have a fun time with these great folks, who are on their way to their winter digs in Mercedes, Texas.

We Check Out Thousand Trails

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

We had been aware of Thousand Trails for some time, reading blogs of some folks who are very happy with their memberships and noting others who were not very complimentary.  Figuring that the Lake Conroe location may fit nicely in its proximity to our kids, we elected to drive out there and take a look.  

This is a large (168 acres) facility with a gated entry and very nice common facilities, shown to us by Randall, a pleasant fellow who, thankfully, was not given to high pressure sales tactics, as we had feared.  We even got a chance to drive around by ourselves to take a closer look.

We thought the location--with good lake access--was ideal, and we were impressed with the sections set aside for long term residents.  These consisted largely of occupant-owned park models in a nice wooded setting.

However, the areas devoted to transient zone members with RVs--oh my!  This was not good. Almost all of these sites, topped either with gravel or deteriorating asphalt, were in a horrible state of disrepair.  The interior roads were crumbling, and many of the sites had deep ruts worn by heavy RVs and never reconditioned.  Very few of the sites were level, and I would have been reluctant even to drive Phannie around in this area, for fear of tossing everything out of the cabinets.  It appeared that about half the sites were occupied and that most of the unoccupied ones did not have  50-amp electrical service.  Some of the campers had gone to extraordinary effort to level their rigs on the grossly uneven sites.  I meant to take some photos of the ingenious leveling structures used, but I was so shocked by what I was seeing that I forgot to do so.

At the end of our tour, we sat down with Randall and told him we thought the program offered was attractive, but we simply couldn't get past the rather glaring disrepair of the RV sites.  He cringed a bit at my remarks; this was obviously not the first time he had heard such comments.  He then began to tell us that Thousand Trails had fallen on difficult financial times and had recently been bought out by Encore Properties, a large corporation that has plans to upgrade the 50 parks in Thousand Trails' system.  Obviously, Encore has not yet gotten around to the Lake Conroe park.

It was easy to see that a good potential exists here that would make the facility much more attractive at what would seem like low costs for the improvements.  I mean, really, how much can a load of gravel cost to fill the ruts and level a site?  This is what didn't add up to us; they have a large and beautiful location that--for the want of some loads of gravel--is way underutilized.  Obvious in their absence were big rigs like Phannie; the current clientele appears to be mostly campers with older towables.  This indicates that a large segment of RV owners are turned off by what they see.

Now lest we are thought of as prima donnas, I should mention that we hardly demand luxury in the places we choose to camp.  We try to look for good value and are quite happy in downscale places, so long as they are reasonably well kept, safe and clean.  This park was certainly safe and clean, but the condition of the sites was a real head-scratcher.  I'm sure there are other TT parks that are in better condition, so I won't make a blanket judgment about all of them merely by this one experience.  We wish the best for Thousand Trails as they complete their upgrades; we will check back sometime in the future. 

Not to be Missed: The Children's Museum of Houston

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

If you have kids or grandkids, you should not miss the Children's Museum of Houston.  It is touted--with good reason--to be the finest in the country.  Sandy and Mindy took Mason, along with his aunt Brenda and cousin Aaron and his clan, and they were utterly enthralled.  Take a look at Mason's face in the photo below:

There is seemingly no limit to the artful combining of education and fun available here.  It is truly an amazing offering and opportunity for children--one that they will be better for having experienced, for sure.  Warning:  This is a vast exposition that will require more than one visit to see it all.

Where else will Mason and his cousin Hunter get to drive an ambulance and learn all about the purpose of it?  What a time they had!

I'm not kidding--you'll be sorry if you miss this.  If you don't have access to kids, rent some and take them.  They will love you for it.

What Reader Do You Use?

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

If you have a habit (or strange compulsion) of reading the recurring postings of favorite bloggers, you will undoubtedly have your subscriptions organized with a blog reader, or newsfeed reader, so that the posts will appear there, in one location, when they are published.  I don't see many posts about this, so I assume most folks who use these are fairly happy with the reader they are using.

For years, I happily used Google Reader until they unceremoniously scrapped it.  I never really understood why they shut it down, for it was wildly popular and caused a lot of gnashing of teeth among those of us who liked it.  

I started hunting around for a replacement and tried several others--Feedly, for example, among them.  I was totally dissatisfied with these, but I struggled along until, by chance, I found one that mimicked Google Reader; the site owners, cleverly, have named it The Old Reader (theoldreader.com), and I am very happy with it.

There is one feature about The Old Reader that Google didn't have: A dead feed indicator that will identify inactive feeds, arranged by the length of time that no post has been made on a site.  When I see a site on this list that hasn't posted in six months, I delete it, assuming the posters have abandoned their effort.

I am certainly not proselytizing for The Old Reader, and I assume that newsfeed readers are sort of a personal thing.  However, if you were a Google Reader user and haven't found a satisfactory replacement, this may be something worth investigating.

In Houston for Girlie Stuff

In Spring, Texas (Houston)...

I knew it was coming.  Excited as I am that Mindy is expecting another grandson for me, it is a rite of passage that she will be having a baby shower, and Tyler and I will get roped into it somehow.  (I have learned this one is called a "sprinkle," as she already had a shower for the first baby.)  Now, with that information, I already know more than I wanted to know.

In preparation for this event, we have moved Phannie to Rayford Crossing RV Resort north of Houston to become a mobile command post for Sandy.  This is a nice park, fairly close to Mindy's and Tyler's home, and Phannie will provide all of the support necessary for Sandy to fuss over the details. I will unquestionably be pressed into service as a chauffeur, fetcher or cook.  (I enjoy cooking, but this sort of hobby can be a bit of a liability in times like this.)

After a multitude of phone conversations with Mindy, Sandy has decreed that I will drive them to Costco this morning.  I thought about reminding them that both of them have valid driver's licenses and a GPS and could likely go there themselves, but years of experience have taught me that such a comment, articulated at this time, would not have had the desired effect of getting me out of this chore.  In fact, it would have been downright counterproductive, as it espoused a plan that did not originate with, nor was it approved by, the command center. Knowing the futility of an appeal--especially when no appeal process exists--I cheerfully acquiesced. Too bad I don't have a chauffeur's cap; I would have worn it.

The trip was uneventful, except for seeing a serious accident that slowed traffic for about 15 minutes. As the last highly essential party item was checked by the cashier, it became clear that I was to have another duty added to that of chauffeuring:  Toting the spoils of the girls' shopping crusade.  It was now ever so much more clear why they insisted on my accompanying them.  They could probably have done better than my weak back and weak mind, but I work cheap, and I show up when told.

I have already been informed that I will be a sous chef tomorrow morning and not to plan anything I might enjoy.  Sir, yes sir!  

Retirement: Reflecting on the First Month

At home in Fort Worth...

Now having one month's retirement under my belt, I thought it might be interesting to share my initial impressions of life as a retiree. You will recall that I just sort of belly-flopped into this new lifestyle after 45 years of constant employment, except for a few weeks when I was between jobs. Frankly, I didn't know what to expect, but I can tell you now that it didn't take long for me to adjust. And I can also tell you that I like it. A lot.

Here are some of my first month's impressions:

1. The wakeup alarm on my clock radio has not sounded even once. I have always hated that darned thing, and I still haven't decided what action to take if it has the audacity to come on again at some point. Who knows, it might even involve gunfire; there is a pistol in my nightstand drawer...

2. I don't have to be in my car, backing out of the garage at exactly 6:50 a.m. every morning in order to make in 40 minutes what would normally be a 20-minute drive to the office. This daily struggle was caused by endless road construction and 100,000 other drivers trying to kill me while talking on their cell phones or putting on makeup at 75 miles per hour. I saw some pretty horrific wrecks over the years, and I thank the Almighty for watching over me.

3. I don't miss working even a little bit. I have older friends, however, who are still there even though no economic need exists to hang around. I'm sorry, but I don't get it; life is too short, and there's so much of God's creation left to see. I don't have many regrets up to now, and I really don't want to start any new ones if I can help it. Regrets torment us because they almost always involve the consequences of something we unwisely did or did not do in the past and which are, of course, irreversible. Frankly, I can't think of anything I would regret more than taking my last sightseeing trip being wheeled out of my office on a gurney. 

4. I find I now have way too many clothes. I will never need to buy  anything else to wear for any purpose as long as I live. I believe I could do quite nicely now with perhaps two dozen articles of clothing. So what do I do with the two hundred others in my closet? I'm sure a heavily-laden trip to a charity collection center will be in the offing.

5. There is little need to go to the dry cleaners much anymore to maintain my executive look, such as it was. When I told the owner of the cleaners I was retiring, he hung black crepe around his door and mumbled something about suicide.

6. It's true what they say about not knowing what day it is!  I really didn't believe that until I retired and stopped wearing my watch, upon which the day of the week appears rather prominently. However, any unsettling feeling I might have about this is mitigated by my realization that I generally have no need to know what day it is!  If I need to do something on a specific day, Sandy will tell me. She always knows what day it is, along with a whole bunch of other stuff whose usefulness is questionable. For example, do I really need to know that you're not supposed to wear white shoes after Labor Day?

7. Perhaps retirement's greatest benefit is freedom. Freedom from deadlines; freedom from limitations on time and travel; freedom to linger at a special vacation spot or over coffee and good conversation; freedom to pursue a hobby or interest that was suppressed during the grind of the workweek; freedom to visit friends and family and rekindle old relationships. And yes, most importantly, freedom from regret.  

As my friend Ed Dray reminds me every day, "Life is good!"

    

Back at Home Base

At home in Fort Worth...

The final leg home down I-20 from Shreveport was uneventful after a quiet night at Tall Pines RV Park. This facility, judging from the telltale A-frame shape of the office, was obviously an ancient KOA campground earlier in its life.  And I do mean ancient, as the site pads were short and narrow, the concrete having been poured way before big rigs and RV slideouts came on the scene. I was able to get all of Phannie's wheels on the pad, but she looked something like a big gray elephant perched on a post card. Mae had to be content with parking on the gravel that led up to the pad. It was a quiet park, but there was no working wi-fi available. Incomprehensible in today's connected world. 

Cruising along on the Interstate, I was able to fiddle at length with my new GPS, a Rand McNally Tripmaker designed especially for RVers. I've been relatively impressed with it so far, but it is not very user-friendly. It has taken a lot of trial and error to figure out how it works. I've even had to resort to looking a the manual a time or two.  (This is anathema to a guy, as it is generally considered a sign of weakness.) The unit seems very accurate and, with the exception of Clarksdale, has been perfect in finding some very tricky destinations. I don't know what happened there; the GPS took us within about a half-mile of the Clarksdale campground but no farther. It was as though it was trying to tell us not to try to go there. As it turned out, the GPS knew best; we should have listened.

Although you can change it, the Tripmaker defaults to displaying the map with north always at the top, unlike other GPS units that show the direction of travel always at the top. In the latter, the map turns while the RV icon always points north. In the Tripmaker, the appearance is that of a stationary map upon which the RV icon moves around. When I was flying airliners, I was accustomed to this kind of display on my navigation instruments, so it seems more natural to me. It also warned me when it had planned a route (I have it set to "fastest") whose weight restrictions did not allow a vehicle of Phannie's 32,000 lb. gross weight. It has also given fairly accurate warnings about road construction in progress. (I can't figure out how it knows that.) It's also supposed to warn me of height obstructions on a planned route that might cause something expensive and embarrassing to happen to Phannie. So far, I haven't observed that warning yet. I also appreciate the big 7" display, needed as my eyes get older.

Arriving home, I left Phannie in her driveway while we unloaded. This allowed the slides to be fully extended so as to have clear access to all the storage spaces. Well, that's not the whole story; it was mainly for Sandy to have access to her clothes in the bedroom closet, all of which had to be transported back into the house (by guess who?) for reassessment, she announced. Bless her heart, although she is much improved in her choice and quantity of clothing for RV trips, she still struggles in dealing with changing seasons. I, on the other hand, left my skimpy supply of clothes largely intact in Phannie except for exchanging a couple of pairs of shorts for long pants, now that autumn has arrived.  And yes, Sandy knows, intellectually that, in consideration of RV clothing, less is more. It's just that little demon whispering in her ear, "What if?" She's a planner and organizer and doesn't like to be caught unprepared by the vagaries of weather, hence her reliance on "what if" outfits. I have learned over time that her deliberations in this area do not need any input from me. 

We also empty the refrigerator and clean it after each trip. We found this eliminates odors and the likelihood that something will be left in there that will scare us when we open it again.  Then I dump the tanks, including the fresh water, which I will refill just before the next trip.

The next trip, by the way, is coming up Friday, to Houston. We'll keep you posted. 

Escape from the Clarksdale Zombies

In Shreveport, Louisiana...

Sandy and I awoke after an uneasy sleep in Clarksdale to find that we had not been attacked by zombies during the night.  This macabre warning was postulated, much to our discomfort, by our dear friend and blog reader, Jim, from back home.  Phannie's new tires were not slashed, and Mae started up without exploding.  Okay, we obviously overreacted to our surroundings to the point of perhaps sounding a bit snobbish, although I prefer to think of it as, um, sheltered.  In my defense, let me just say that our lifestyle and comfort zone are what they are, and we have worked hard to maintain these...without apology.

As we were laughing about the Zombie attack that wasn't, it occurred to us that neither of us has even seen a zombie movie or read a book about zombies.  We think we heard that they are dead people who emerge from the grave and attack live people, but we don't know how they became un-dead or why they attack live people. I suppose we could find out, but we cannot bring ourselves to use even a few irreplaceable minutes of our lives doing something as inane as researching zombies.  We will just have to keep wondering, I guess. 

A beloved uncle of Sandy's passed away yesterday, so we decided to abandon our slow meandering return to home base in favor of a more direct route.  We decided to spend the night in Shreveport tonight, in order to drive quickly home on Friday and regroup for a short time before driving to Belton (Texas) for the funeral on Saturday.  

The first 70 miles of the leg from Clarksdale was via the Great River Road, a scenic (supposedly) byway built in 1938 that follows alongside the Mississippi River from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico.  The map I was using even had the little green dots beside the depicted road indicating it was scenic.  I beg to differ.  I suppose if you find that a thousand or so miles of flat river bottom land is scenic, then you would be captivated by driving this road.  We were impressed for about ten miles, then it became a bit tiresome.  I guess we just don't get it. The highway was great, however--straight, smooth and well maintained with very little traffic. We just don't think we'll need to go this way again.  Ever.

Sandy made good use of her newly-expanded pullout computer desk in front of her copilot's seat.  With her iPad and cell phone there on the desk, she has access to the world.  Keeping up with family and friends and taking care of banking, business matters and a myriad of other interests is a piece of cake.  No wonder the post office is going bust; we really don't need them anymore, I guess.  Here she is, at command central:

I still can't help but marvel at the technology that allows us to have the world at our fingertips while driving down the road in a rolling house in the middle of nowhere.  It was only one generation back--our parents--who, as children, lived in houses with no telephone, no electricity and no indoor plumbing or bathroom.  We have come a long way in a short time.

We made it to the Tall Pines RV Park in Shreveport without a hiccup. Phannie has never run better, and we are really enjoying her new upgrades.

Clarksdale: A Blue Highway Bust

In Clarksdale, Mississippi...

Rant warning:  I really don't consider this a rant but a rather harsh review of a town that has just sort of let itself go; it could do better, in my opinion.

Since I try to maintain a positive outlook on life, it is rare that I encounter a place in our travels in which I can find almost no redeeming qualities.  Such a place is Clarksdale, Mississippi. This woeful hovel of seediness lies about five miles east of the Mississippi River.  It is billed as the home of the blues, and I can understand why!

My penchant for adventure on blue highways (taking roads less traveled) usually results in our discovery of quaint and interesting places that we otherwise may have missed while grinding along the dreaded Interstates. Occasionally, however, among all that quaintness, we run across a town like this--a tasteless amalgam of depression-era buildings with little refurbishment other than sloppy paint jobs. There is obviously no thought of erecting any kind of new structure here for fear the hapless citizens would think an alien spaceship had landed. The streets are rife with asphalt patchwork and seem to meander without a logical pattern except for a theme of planting a stop sign at every corner. Street signs were missing at a number of locations, making our navigation to the RV park unsuccessful on the first try.  There was no signage at all directing travelers to the fairgrounds and the RV park contained therein.  Even the GPS, usually very accurate, was confused.  I finally had to resort to asking directions, something I only do out of desperation, being a guy.

Apparently, tourists like us are few in number but easily recognized as strangers. This was underscored when we finished dinner at Ramon’s, an authentic dive of a restaurant that served remarkably good food. As I was paying the bill, the very elderly woman at the cash register asked, 

“Where you folks from?”
“Fort Worth, Texas,” I said, electing not to mention that she left out a verb and ended her sentence with a preposition. A quizzical frown came over her face.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?”

Surprised at the question, I remained mute, unable to think of a way to explain in less than fifteen minutes where we had been and why we stopped there.  Sandy, on the other hand, had no such limitation, as she is especially gifted in the art of spontaneous verbal communication with strangers. She will gleefully engage in a conversation with anyone, unfettered by any perceived constraint of time or adherence to just one subject. (I think that’s why everyone likes her better.)  Anyway, Sandy launched into the saga of Phannie’s stay in Red Bay while the old lady looked on with the same blank stare she would have had if Sandy were lecturing about astrophysics. At the end of Sandy’s soliloquy, the old woman asked sweetly,

“So you’ve pulled your trailer all this way?”
About this time, an elderly gentleman, having overheard the conversation, strode from the kitchen and clarified,

“It’s the kind of trailer that people drive, Bertie.”  
She smiled, giving no visible hint that she had any idea what we were talking about. I was pretty sure she had never seen a motorhome in her life.

Our overnight parking spot was in the parking lot of the fairgrounds and overgrown with weeds in many places, where the city had installed, apparently with overdone expectations of tourists, perhaps a hundred RV hookups, most of which had electricity and water and some with sewer.  There was no attendant--just a drop box where you were supposed to drop fifteen dollars on the honor system. The few full hookup spots were occupied mostly by a much older and ragged smattering of towable RVs in various states of decline and disrepair. The occupants of these rigs were obviously long-timers for whom the next step downward would be in a tent or under a bridge. There were no motorhomes among them, and the effect of Phannie’s arrival on the scene was probably not much different from what it would be like for Air Force One to land in downtown Pascagoula, judging from the stares we got.  I don't think they had many transients that could find the place. We finally located a 50-amp hookup some distance from the other residents and parked, surprised somewhat that the water and electricity actually worked.  Then we went to dinner, but not without locking all of the baggage doors in addition to Phannie’s cabin door.  Also, my friends, Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson, were close at hand.  Why did we elect to stay there, you may ask?  Well, it was late, and choices were few in Clarksdale.

A word about Ramon’s Restaurant:  I found this little dive on Yelp, and it turned out to be a winner. In a rough neighborhood (indistinguishable in Clarksdale from an upscale neighborhood), this restaurant has been turning out wonderful home-cooked food since 1945--finally, something positive!  We had an old favorite, fried catfish and hush puppies, and we ate every morsel.

Ramon's in Clarksdale - Yum!

I'm sure the people here are very nice folks, as exemplified by those we met at Ramon's, but they really could do a better job of taking pride in their town; I hope they will, at some point.

Are You a No-Reply Blogger?

In Red Bay, Alabama...

(Alert: This post will be meaningful only to folks who use Blogspot for posting their blogs.) 

Here's some information that will enhance your experience with Blogger:

When you get an email telling you have a comment on your Blogger post, have you noticed that you can reply to the authors of some of them and others you can't?  In the former case, the commenter's email address pops up when you hit the reply button on your email program.  In the latter, you get the dreaded "no reply-comment@blogger.com" instead of a valid email address.

While Blogger has some great features, it is frustrating in that it does not include adequate information about setting it up so that  people who comment on your blog can receive replies from you.  The default setting is for this important feature to be disabled and, in my view, that is not adequately explained. 

There is a feature within the comments section at the end of each post for me to reply to a comment, but it is highly unlikely that the commenter will return afterward to see if I replied, so I generally don't bother to reply there. The other, more workable, option is for me to reply to the commenter via the email I received from Blogger announcing the posting of the comment.  Unfortunately, I can't do that if the commenter's Blogger profile is not set so that he/she can receive emails in this way.  Of course, there will always be some folks who are a little reluctant to have their email address visible anywhere, so they will not be interested in changing this setting in their profiles.

So, if you would like to receive replies to your comments--and I hope you do--the procedure for setting up your profile can be found here.  Please consider taking advantage of this and help spread the word.  Tell your readers their comments are important and that you would like to have the privilege of responding to show your appreciation. 

Projects Completed and New Friends

In Red Bay, Alabama...

Yesterday was the final day for work on Phannie on this trip to Red Bay.  Goodness knows, this has been a marathon event but very productive in fixing Phannie's issues and adding some goodies that we wanted.  

Chris Wright

We drove Phannie out to Chris Wright's body shop behind his nice home in Red Bay so he could dress up and paint the exhaust fan housing that Brannon at Custom RV installed last week.  Chris, like all the service providers we've encountered, was very personable and obviously skilled in his craft.  We couldn't be more pleased.

Finished!

Just as Chris finished his paint job, Chris Berry showed up with a modified cockpit tray table and a new shelf for the cabinet under the stovetop.  Chris is a master woodworker with a shop at his rural home where we left the tray table a few days ago to have longer extensions added to the drawer slides.  As originally configured, the table could be pulled out for the copilot to use, but not far enough to access it without bending forward uncomfortably.  We added this to our list of factory design missteps that should have been obvious (remember the wood floor under the wet bay?) in an otherwise fine motor home.  We had to wonder if the designer had even occupied the seat and attempted to use the table before production commenced.   

This was the original table extension:

This is the table with extended slides:

Although I didn't include a photo of it, Chris Berry also installed a middle shelf in the cavernous storage cabinet under the stove top.  Without the shelf, the upper portion of this cabinet was just wasted space.  This was another simple, low-cost addition that, in our opinion, should have been installed during production.

Chris Berry; he installed the shelf in the cabinet with the open doors.

 We had an extra treat in the afternoon when we dropped by Richard and Patsy King's Allegro Bus, parked at the Tiffin campground and waiting for service to some minor issues with their coach.  We are mutual blog readers (find theirs here), and we enjoyed a lively and laughter-filled chat after meeting them. 

Patsy and Richard King

Today will be our last full day in Red Bay. If the rain stays away, we will likely get a wash job for Phannie before the trip home.

More Curiosities

In Red Bay, Alabama...

One of the marvelous things about small towns is that interesting and quirky things seem more visible. Or, it could be that I'm more observant of my surroundings than when I was racing to and from the office in the daily demolition derby known as rush hour.  Regardless, I've included below a few more things that struck our fancy here in Red Bay.

As I mentioned earlier, a local festival called "Founders' Day" was to be held this weekend.  Part of the experience obviously was for local establishments to construct dioramas or vignettes depicting small town life in the early days of Red Bay's founding.  The first, depicting a brush arbor meeting, is in front of the First Baptist Church, and the second, depicting a general store, is near a local appliance business:

These folks are really into dummies.  Here is a photo of a dummy in a lawn chair near a dilapidated house just outside of town.  It was perhaps used as a scarecrow at some point, but it did make us do a double take:

I'm really not sure what this is depicting, but I was fascinated by the old Chevrolet pickup ('47 or '48?) painted pink. Sandy speculated that it was the very first Mary Kay Cosmetics vehicle: 

The next one is perhaps the most curious of all.  I'm not sure if the owner is making an artistic statement or is merely a person of few words:

No More Cooking Fumes for Phannie

In Red Bay, Alabama...

Off topic for a moment: You will notice that I include a small subheading at the beginning of each post identifying where we are. (This is admittedly not difficult to discern at the moment, for we have been in Red Bay so long that everybody who reads this already knows. Lord knows, we have watched local kids grow up, get married and have children of their own. Well, almost; I exaggerate only slightly.)  I began including these little location-identifying subheadings after reading so very many posts by other bloggers describing some event or attraction that I found interesting but unidentifiable as to where the writer was located.  Sometimes I am forced to go back many posts to get a hint of where they were when they were writing the post.  Most of the time, however, I just click on through, that bit of curiosity unrequited for all time. By being respectful toward you, dear reader, and always showing our location, I will hopefully not contribute to a similar frustration on your part.

Since we have finally exhausted our list of services that we wanted  done at Tiffin, we are now in the final stretch. We have a few more items that will be accomplished by local craftsmen who make their living performing work that overflows from Tiffin. In most cases, these services can be performed more quickly and less expensively than that available from the factory, and the providers stay very busy poaching among the generally well-heeled and captive motorhome owners.  At any given time, there are about 30 million dollars worth of motorhomes milling about this tiny town, and you can bet that something is broken on every one of them.  It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

On this day, we drove out to nearby Vina, Alabama to have Phannie's kitchen exhaust fan rerouted to the exterior of the coach.  For several year models, including ours, Tiffin elected to build their motorhomes without an outside opening for the kitchen exhaust fan.  The microwave/convection oven contains the fan itself and can be configured for the exhaust to be vented outside or simply to recirculate inside the coach after being pulled through a filter.  This latter arrangement was totally unacceptable because of the fumes and smoke that would naturally aggregate within the small confines of the coach.  As often as not, the smoke alarm would be set off if any serious cooking took place on top of the stove. 

Brannon Hutcheson owns Custom RV in Vina, and he was kind enough to squeeze in this small job among the larger ones that he has had booked for months.

Brannon Hutcheson cutting hole for kitchen exhaust

Microwave oven removed showing new exhaust port

Exhaust Port Installed

You will note that Brannon had to move the exterior light to install the exhaust housing.  In a couple of days, we will take Phannie to Chris Wright's body shop here in Red Bay to have the vent and the area around it refinished and painted.