Man In The Maze

by Rich Luhr, Editor of Airstream Life magazine

  • About
  • Follow
    • Twitter
  • My books
    • Exploring National Parks
    • Newbies Guide To Airstreaming
    • Airstream trailer maintenance guide
  • “How To Airstream” blog
  • Store
  • Back to Airstream Life
You are here: Home / Archives for Musings

Aug 22 2013

The smarter Airstream

Last week Elon Musk (of Tesla and Space-X) released his vision for the Hyperloop, a sort of Jetsons/Futurama-style pneumatic tube system for shooting people up the California coast at incredible speeds.  I’d sooner squeeze myself into a hamster’s Habitrail than that claustrophobic nightmare, but I do admire the spirit of Musk’s proposal. Knowing he wouldn’t personally be able to execute on the concept, he released his plans to the world in the hopes that someone else would take it forward.

In keeping with that spirit, I am going to tell you about the next big idea in travel trailers.  Before I begin, I should acknowledge that this is not my original idea (neither was Musk’s; it was an advancement on an old idea).  My good Airstream friend Brian first suggested this, and then I pushed it forward in conversations with Tom (an automotive expert and Airstreamer), and then I realized two things:

  • I’m no Elon Musk
  • It’s a pretty wild idea

But I like it, and I hope you will too.  Here’s the elevator pitch: Imagine an Airstream that is impervious to sway or loss-of-control issues, can park itself in a campsite, has huge electrical power capacity, and actually improves your fuel economy when you tow it.

It’s possible.  The giant 85 kilowatt-hour (kWh) battery used by Tesla for its ground-breaking electric cars is the key.  It’s patented technology but it is based on readily available lithium-ion battery cells that are getting cheaper all the time.  The battery pack is heavy and flat, so it fits in the bottom of the Tesla and lowers the center of gravity.  Having a low center of gravity is a big part of the reason why the car handles extremely well and doesn’t want to roll over.

Let’s fit one under an Airstream frame (OK, some frame mods would be required for this), and also instead of the basic trailer axle, we fit in the electric motor and regenerative brakes of the Tesla too.  (See image below of a Tesla Model S electric motor, brakes, and battery platform.)

Up front, we have a very clever ball coupler that replaces the standard one.  This coupler senses the pressure of the tow ball so it can inform a microprocessor whether the trailer is being pulled by the tow vehicle, is coasting, or (going downhill) is pushing the tow vehicle. It’s kind of like a smart surge brake.  Sensors at the wheels also provide information about the direction of travel, by measuring the difference in wheel rotation.

All of this 21st century cleverness means that when the Airstream is being towed in a straight line, and the tow vehicle is pulling hard, the Airstream can contribute some power.  Not enough to push itself out of control, mind you, but just enough to help compensate for the natural aerodynamic resistance of the Airstream, and thus restore some MPGs to the tow vehicle.  So perhaps your 20 MPG truck gets 20 MPG even when towing, instead of 10 MPG.  That would be nice.

When turning, backing, or coasting, the Airstream would act like an ordinary trailer, just spinning its wheels. When slowing or stopping, the regenerative brakes would put a little power back into the big battery.  Those brakes would be plenty strong and much more reliable than standard trailer electric drum brakes.

Now, a “smart trailer” like this would know if it was swaying or otherwise misbehaving, and it would be independently capable of correcting it.  Say goodbye to sway problems forever.  Likewise, it would be able to stop itself very smoothly if the coupling came loose, or the breakaway switch were activated.

When you get to camp, there’s another really nice perk.  Disconnect the trailer at a convenient spot and then use a handheld remote control to self-drive the Airstream right into your campsite, or a parking space.  This may seem science fiction, but in fact this technology is already in use in Europe with the Reich Move Control (start watching the video at 5:16 to see an Airstream doing this).  No more need to stress out over backing up the trailer into a tight spot.

Recharging is no problem at all.  If the campground has electricity, plug into the 50-amp connection and the battery should regain about 30 miles of range for every hour you are camped.  One overnight stay, and you’re charged up for another day of power-assisted towing.

Or, if you haven’t used up the battery pack during towing, it’s a huge house battery.  The standard pair of wet-cell batteries in an Airstream provide less than a kilowatt-hour of usable power.  The Tesla battery holds 85 times as much!

This system could even enable a sort of “Holy Grail” for people who really want to make RV’ing “green.”  You could potentially tow a self-powered Airstream a couple hundred miles using an electric vehicle such as the upcoming Tesla Model X.  Zero petroleum, zero emissions, and a free recharge at night while you camp.  On a typical 200-mile tow that’s a cash savings of about $60-85, more than enough to pay for a really nice campsite.

Of course, the campgrounds might get wise to this someday, and charge an electric surcharge.  I wouldn’t be surprised, but still it’s much cheaper to “fuel” an electric vehicle than any fossil-fueled vehicle.

This idea is definitely half-baked.  There are huge cost issues here, no question.  The battery pack alone would be in the $10-20k range.  Right now nobody in the RV industry is going to explore this because they know that nobody will buy it.

Also, there could be drastic regulatory issues.  Does a trailer change classifications with the Dept of Transportation once it is self-powered?  What sort of regulatory barriers might exist? I haven’t looked into any of that.

So I humbly present this idea to you, solely to spur your thinking.  Realize that the way we do things today will change.  Someday our practice of driving fume-belching trucks pulling “dumb” trailers will be as much a part of our past as steam locomotives. Somebody is going to reinvent the RV’ing industry, when the time is right, and I just hope I’m here to see it.

In fact, I want to be part of that future, so if anyone is planning to do some work with this idea, please bring me in as a consultant.  I want to be the first guy to go on an all electric camping trip, 200 miles from home with my “smart” Airstream trailer.  Don’t you?

Written by RichLuhr · Categorized: Airstream, Musings, Vehicles

Aug 18 2013

Tesla dreams

I spent yesterday in the carport with Nick, working on both of our cars.  Nick is my local “Mercedes buddy,” a fellow enthusiast who owns a 1980s era Mercedes 300D like mine.  Neither of us are accomplished mechanics but we both enjoy learning and so periodically we get together to tackle car repairs together.  So far we’ve had good luck and no major disasters.

Yesterday’s jobs were to replace the front door seals on my car and the speedometer cable, and on Nick’s car we replaced the engine mounts, replaced the fuel primer pump, and changed the oil.  My carport is the preferred location for this because it has a nice smooth concrete floor and is fully shaded.  With the Airstream Safari summering in Vermont, there’s plenty of room for both cars. Unfortunately, Tucson hit 108 degrees yesterday so even though we started early in the morning, it was a brutally hot and dirty experience.

I say “dirty” because these cars are relics of the petroleum-burning era, producing copious amounts of soot and nitrogen oxides with minimal emissions controls.  They are about as far from “earth friendly” as you can get, and a fact revealed on every greasy carbon-coated engine part.  We wear gloves while working on them but still get our arms and faces smeared with black very quickly.  It’s hard not to think about where all that mess comes from, and realize that the car is really an obsolete rolling polluter.

The clunky old diesel engines do a particular job very well, namely motivating 3,000 pounds of steel for up to half a million miles. For this reason they are coveted by people who see them as the pinnacle of automotive engineering: user-repairable, computer-free, and incredibly durable.  I look at the mechanical engineering that went into it and I have to really respect it.  The thought and effort that went into every part to design it perfectly for the task is just amazing.

But honestly, I am conflicted about my car.  I run 99% biodiesel in it because it reduces emissions and is good for the fuel system, but that’s not going to make it a “clean” or “green” car.  It still emits much more unburned hydrocarbons, NOx, CO2, and soot than a comparable modern car.  If even a quarter of the country drove around in cars like this, the world would be a nasty place.  I’d probably be first in line to have them banned.  The only reason we get away with it is because most people drive newer cars which pollute only a fraction as much.  So as much as I love my 300D, I also know it’s an unsustainable antique.

The future, I’ve come to believe, is electric cars.  A few years ago I would have scoffed at that idea, since “everyone” knew that electric cars were silly toys that couldn’t go more than 80 miles and needed 10 hours to charge.  But Elon Musk and his team at Tesla have changed my mind.  The Tesla “Model S” and the national infrastructure envisioned by Tesla have changed everything—and despite widespread press, I don’t think the implications have fully sunk in to most of the car-driving public.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of the changes Tesla has implemented.  The Tesla can easily go 200-300 miles on a single charge, with the option of picking up a 200-mile range boost in 20 minutes at a Tesla Supercharger station or swapping out the entire battery pack for a fully-charged one in 90 seconds.  That’s quicker than filling a gas tank.  With an in-home charger your car is always “full” every day you start to drive it.  And using the Supercharger stations is free.  Tesla even has installed solar panels at each station so that the station generates more power than it uses.

But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  Imagine owning a car that has no engine, no transmission, and no emission or exhaust system. That means you never have to get an oil change, tune-up, belt replacement, radiator service, filters, emissions check, etc.  No more Midas Muffler, or Jiffy Lube.  No more 10,000 mile services at the dealership.  Heck, even the brakes won’t need service because they are regenerative (meaning they put energy back into the battery) and hardly ever wear out.

You can’t get any “greener” than an electric car.  Any traditional car (even a hybrid) burns petroleum.  Ain’t nothing green about that, even with a miniature chemical factory mounted on the car to reduce the emissions, which is what we have to put up with these days.  The electric car has zero emissions and can be powered (indirectly) through electric generation from lots of sources, including solar, hydro, wind, natural gas, nuclear, oil, and coal.  If the source of the power is dirty, at least it comes from one plant where emissions can be controlled more readily than on 100,000 separate vehicles.

I have come to realize that a lot of the negativity about electric cars comes from viewing them from a petroleum-powered perspective.  In other words, we tend to let our preconceptions taint our view.  An example is fear about the giant battery pack.  In eight years to ten years, you’ll have to replace it and that will cost a lot.

Sure, but in eight years of gasoline burning you’ll have to replace belts, hoses, plugs, fluids, filters, gaskets, water pump, battery, muffler, and probably a few other things, in addition to the risk of a major repair to the combustion engine.  Add to that the hard-to-quantify costs like health problems resulting from dirty air.  Then, add to that about $20,000 in petroleum fuel cost over 100,000 miles.  Suddenly that battery pack isn’t looking so bad.  We are so inured to the ongoing cost of maintaining our dirty little petroleum combustion engines that we don’t consider how expensive (and resource-consuming) they really are.

Another common gripe is what the automotive press calls “range anxiety,” the fear that you’ll run out of power and not be able to charge up again quickly.  Tesla addressed that one with their Supercharger network, which is being built out right now.  In 2015 you’ll be able to drive almost anywhere in the USA with a free 20-minute Supercharge (or battery swap) available within 200 miles. You can’t say that for hydrogen or natural gas fueled vehicles, and it probably won’t ever be true for those because of the cost of building those complicated infrastructures.  Electricity, on the other hand, is already piped everywhere.

An electric car won’t yet replace our tow vehicle, and I wouldn’t expect such a thing to be available for many years.  For now, we’ll continue to run the “clean diesel” Mercedes GL320 to tow the Airstream around.  Likewise, gasoline cars will continue to be the majority of the market for a long time.  The Tesla is still financially out of reach for most people.  But it shows us what the future will hold.

Every time I look under the sooty hood of my 1984 diesel Mercedes and compare it to the much-cleaner, computerized 2009 diesel I can see the progress of 25 years.  Looking at the elegant engineering of the Tesla S electric car, I see the progress of the next 25 years.  I’ll hold onto the old Mercedes as a reminder of the great engineering of that day, but I’m looking forward to the day when I can drive the future.

Written by RichLuhr · Categorized: Mercedes 300D, Musings

Aug 02 2013

That intolerable silence

The blog has been quiet lately, and I’m sure a few people are wondering what hole I’ve managed to fall into.  A friend once accused me of being a compulsive blogger, needing some sort of intervention and a 12-step program, but none of my friends seemed to care to stop me.  So what has kept me quiet for so long lately?

It’s just life.  A couple of weeks ago I was wrestling with my motivation to solve a giant problem, one of those huge problems that can’t even be fully understood at the outset, like a 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzle.  I’m talking about my very slow-progressing Airstream maintenance book, which I think is going into its third year of “work.”

I have to put “work” in quotes because I can’t honestly use that term to describe the herky-jerky progress I was making for the first two years, interspersed by long period of contemplation and (let’s be honest) distraction.  Like the massive jigsaw puzzle, I had found all the easy parts and put them together, leaving a giant framework with 4,900 pieces yet to go.  This was a motivation-killer.

I mention this because you might think motivation comes easy to me.  I don’t talk about my failures enough (people complain it’s depressing).  I wrestle with things like every human being does, and there was a long period in which it seemed this project might be just a bit more than I was equipped to complete.  Failure WAS an option, and always is an option even if you like to pretend it’s not, because sometimes in failure you can learn something that will help you succeed next time. Like, “don’t take on a 200 page book project if you really don’t have time for it.”

But it’s harder to abandon a project of one’s own design.  After all, who or what can you honestly blame for the failure?  It was a jail of my own making and I’d told too many people about it, so I kept plugging away, adding a figurative puzzle piece every week or two, and then suddenly a wonderful thing happened.  It was that magical moment known to all writers of long texts and jigsaw puzzle fanatics alike.  I could see for the first time the beautiful picture that my puzzle would eventually form.  Better yet, it was all so obvious now.  I knew exactly what I needed to do, and without any motivational struggle at all I found myself gleefully opening up the document and adding text at every opportunity.

Suddenly I was finding time to write after dinner, before breakfast, between phone calls.  The first day after the breakthrough I added three pages of text to a 30 page document.  The next day I added five pages.  The next, 10 pages.  By the end of the week the project that took over two years to grow to 30 pages had doubled in size to 60.  It was almost worth waiting two years to have that experience.  Breakthroughs like that feel great.

Alas, my next act was to get sick with a virus, which has cost me a week of productivity already and will probably take another week to clear up fully.  I stopped working on the book because it took all of my virus-limited brainpower to just keep the basic operations going (keep in mind, I’m still TBM so I’ve got to do things like grocery shopping and laundry in addition to moving the Winter issue of Airstream Life ahead).  Now, I’ve got to fly up to Oregon to help Brett run Alumafandango, so there’s another big hiatus in the book project ahead.

This has led to the intolerable silence of the blog.  I make no apologies, as we aren’t actively Airstreaming at the moment and TBM’s adventures have been sadly muted, but I thought you should know that I haven’t abandoned you.  No, quite the opposite, I’m plotting all kinds of things to talk about in the future.  I will be blogging from Alumafandango as much as time allows over the coming week, and upon returning I’ll have just about two weeks to get all my TBM-decadence done, so that should be fun.  I already had a bacon-wrapped Sonoran hotdog but that’s just a warm-up for the real goodies…

Written by RichLuhr · Categorized: Books, Maintenance, Musings

Jul 22 2013

Impossible questions

Over the years I’ve gotten a lot of queries from people who want to understand RV’ing, or Airstreams specifically.  I’ve noticed that commonly I’ll get questions that really have no single answer, like “What tow vehicle should I buy?”, “What’s the best length of Airstream?”, “Where are the best places to go?” or “What budget should I have for full-timing?”

Lately these questions have been increasing in frequency, probably because the rate of people entering the Airstream community has taken a sudden jump this year.  Lots of Baby Boomers are buying Airstreams (half of them buying Airstream as the first RV of any type they’ve owned, according to Airstream) and indulging life-long desires to get lost in America.

When I get these queries I try to give some sort of answer, but all too often the best answer is “it depends on you.”  With all the complexities of switching from a stationary home to a traveling home, it’s understandable that people wish a few things would just be easy, with pat answers and well-established procedures, but experienced has shown me that “One Size Fits All” advice (OSFA) is usually not the best.

Really the only good way to give an answer that makes sense is to start by asking questions.  To know what works for you, you first need to know something about yourself.  What’s your travel style: fast, slow, long stays, short stays?  What do you like to do: visiting friends, getting away from civilization, glamping, outdoor activities?  All of this plays into the answers to the commonly asked questions.

Camping Style illo by Brenda MintonTo help with this problem, we are running an article in the upcoming (Fall 2013) issue of Airstream Life entitled “So, What’s Your Camping Style?”  In it, author Renee Ettline lists a few personality traits that have a big affect on Airstreaming, and asks you to rate yourself (and your traveling partner) on a scale.  It might seem like a silly exercise but really it’s an essential first step to knowing what will work for you—and what won’t.

The problem is that it’s hard to know your camping style when you have never owned an RV before.  I know we had absolutely no clue what it was going to be like when we bought our first Airstream.  Even after a year of ownership, our style kept mutating as we learned more about what worked for us.  Our style of travel underwent a big change again when we switched to full-timing.

Well, if you are going into it ab initio, you’ve got to make some choices and hope for the best.  So here’s my best shot at OSFA advice, for people who really are adrift or paralyzed by their options:  talk to your partner, or talk to yourself.  Be honest about what you think you want, and listen to what that means.  A lot can change when you move from a 2,000 square foot home to a 200-square foot home, but your essential nature and your personal needs will probably stay the same.  This is what Renee is trying to show you with her personality questions.

Generically I can suggest a bits of common wisdom that often apply (but not always!)  First, many people get a trailer smaller than they really need or want, because they are attracted to the “cute factor” of small trailers, or because they are fearful that a big trailer will be hard to deal with.  They’re right, smaller is easier, but once you get some experience it becomes less of a factor.  It’s a mistake to go too small because it usually is expensive to trade up to a larger size later.  Bite the bullet and get the Airstream you really want or need.

Personally, I would much rather tow the Argosy 24-footer that we used to have, than the 30-footer we have currently.  The Argosy is lighter, easier to maneuver in cramped spots, and fits in more places.  But when we had the Argosy we discovered a 24-footer just wasn’t practical for our style of traveling at the time:  full-timing with three people and a small business.  So we faced reality and tried the intimidating 30-foot Safari.  Life got a lot easier when we didn’t have to make up the beds every day, and that trailer has served as our full- and part-time home for eight years.

It will be a bittersweet day when Emma is off to college and we downsize to something smaller, because I will be happier wrangling something in the 25-27 foot range but we’ll miss having Emma with us.  (If you want a nice used Airstream Safari 30 Bunkhouse in 2018, give me a call around then and we’ll see if I still feel that way.)

The second piece of advice is that nobody’s budget and nobody’s style matters but your own.  Don’t bother trying to figure out “the cost of full-timing” based on what other people spend.  That’s like trying to figure out the cost of having a house based on what other people spend.  We’re all different.  I am pretty sure Matthew McConaughey spends more on his Airstream travel than we do, and there are many people who spend less, but neither has any bearing on what we spend.  Everyone has their own special conditions and values that determine the cost of full-time travel.  Do you have fixed itinerary points?  Medical issues?  Personal obligations that will affect your schedule?  Do you cook, or eat out?  What sort of campsites do you prefer?  What’s the condition of your tow vehicle and trailer?  Do you do your own maintenance?  Do you have friends who will courtesy park you at their homes?  How much Internet access do you need? Will you be traveling internationally?  Etc.

The third thing you should know is that most people don’t understand towing dynamics and hitches at all, even though they can readily regurgitate plenty of platitudes they read on the Internet from “experts”.  You’ll hear all sorts of advice about tires, receiver hitches, trailer hitches, weight distribution, and tow vehicles, and I can tell you with great confidence that most of what you will be told is either utter nonsense or badly twisted fact.  It’s a real shame that the industry finds itself in this position, because it shouldn’t be such a problem, but almost nobody in the RV’ing industry (and this includes the manufacturers of RVs as well as the manufacturers of hitches, cars, trucks, and tires) is willing to stick their neck out to give up-to-date advice.  Here’s a place where we could use an industry standard, but it is an unavoidable fact that there are too many possible combinations out there to allow that.  Also, there’s a certain amount of potential liability involved, and being a lawsuit-happy country makes manufacturers highly concerned with avoiding litigation.

Don’t write to me asking for hitching advice either—I’m just as concerned about liability as the next guy.  I’ll talk about what I use (as I have in this blog many times) and I’ll tell you a few things not to do, but I won’t tell you what gear to buy because it only takes one stupid lawsuit to ruin my day.  The industry standard has been to give out OSFA in vast quantities, sometimes repeated from brochures first written up in the 1960s before we had independent air suspensions, no-sway hitches, integrated computerized brake controllers, assembly-line (rather than custom-built) receiver hitches, and 3/4-ton trucks capable of towing a 10,000-lb trailer up an 8% grade at 65 MPH.  There is no up-to-date “best practices” document in North America for modern trailer hitching—only OSFA advice designed to limit liability … which puts the onus on you to interpret the advice for your situation and figure out what works.

Go forth and be prolific in your reading.  Our long-running series about towing by Andy Thomson is a good place to start.  If you aren’t the type to do that, then you’ll probably go with the most common approach: buy a bigger truck than you really need, buy any decent hitch & follow the manufacturer’s instructions to set it up, and tow at reasonable speeds. You’ll be OK.  This will get you on the road and hopefully you’ll continue to pick up knowledge as you go so you can optimize your rig.

Finally, avoid a few traps that can cause your Airstream dream to become a nightmare.  Get your financials in order—I’ve met a few Airstreamers who left home with a burden of debt that ultimately collapsed their travel plans.  Similarly, don’t hit the road to escape your problems.  They’ll follow you.  Start with as clean a slate as you can, including clearing out the house and getting rid of “stuff” that is psychically weighing you down.  Head out with the Airstream in good shape, if you have a used one.

Divers have a saying, “Plan the dive, dive the plan.”  But it’s different for Airstreaming.  I recommend you make a plan for every trip, and plan to change it as you go.  You’ll enjoy Airstreaming a lot more if you allow yourself some flexibility to blow with the wind.  There’s no single answer to most of the questions, no magical list of “best” destinations that work for everyone.  That’s why I like reading blogs of Airstream friends who are traveling.  They have completely different perspectives, different destinations, and have unique experiences even at places we’ve gone. They inspire fresh thinking.

So many of the questions are impossible to answer.  But if they all had OSFA answers, I think our lifestyle would be much less interesting.  It is the fact that my journey will not be your journey, that makes it worth doing.  In other words, grasshopper, do not request answers to questions you should answer yourself.

Written by RichLuhr · Categorized: Airstream, Musings

Jun 28 2013

Escape from New York

The aftermath of a great trip is sometimes hard.  “Back to the real world,” people say, and for sure there’s been some of that. But overall, coming back to our summer camp in Vermont has been pretty easy. The memories of recent travel definitely soften what could have been a harsh transition.

Not that everything went smoothly.  Our arrival was certainly more complicated than expected.  We had booked a hotel near JFK Airport so we could spend one night recovering from time zone adjustment before driving 300 miles back to base.  The hotel shuttle was slow to respond and left us standing at the airport for nearly an hour in 91 degree heat, and then when we got to the hotel they told us nobody could check in because “the system is down.”  A growing group of tired travelers were collapsing all over the lobby, which (for some reason) had no air conditioning, so it quickly became a refugee camp with bodies sleeping in chairs, on the floor, sweating in the heat, and one woman coughing ominously.

We waited about 40 minutes to allow the hotel staff to straighten out their situation, and they made multiple promises to me that “soon” they would start checking people in manually.  But I discovered they were telling everyone who came in the door that “You’ll be the first person we check in as soon as the system comes back up,” and they really had no idea what to do in this situation (their mini version of a post-computer apocalypse).  They couldn’t figure out how to check in the guests, they couldn’t cancel reservations, and they seemed content to just wait a few hours for some higher power to restore the system, with a lobby full of disgruntled people.  It amazed me that they didn’t have a backup procedure for something as simple and predictable as a reservation system failure. After an hour I called the hotel chain’s national reservation number and after four tries to get through, I cancelled the booking.

Now our job was to attempt to flee New York at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday, while being thoroughly exhausted (we had gotten up at 12:30 a.m. Eastern Time).  Rush hour traffic had begun already.  After two hours of battling heavy traffic we managed to travel just 30 miles.  After three hours we had gone only 60 miles, but things were getting better.  We finally escaped the traffic and spent the night at a hotel off I-87, getting to bed after 22 hours of rental car, airplane, shuttle, dysfunctional hotel, and NY traffic.

(We’ll never again drive to JFK for a flight.  It’s not worth it.  The tolls, traffic, parking, and hotels are all outrageous, easily wiping out any savings on airfare we might have achieved, without even getting into the hassle factor. Next time we’ll choose a more accessible airport.)

And after all this we still thought we had a Great Trip, so you know that the travel endorphins were pretty enduring.

Back at the office, I discovered that my health care provider had relocated the office of my primary care physician 15 minutes further from my house (“to serve you better”), and coincidentally my health care premiums are going up 25% starting July 1.  That took a bit of a shine off the day, but still I could have come home to worse news. All other things in our world seem to have hung together.

 

Rain is the theme for Vermont this week, so any thought of motorcycle trips has been quashed, as well as boating, fishing, or anything else recreational.  In the sunny gaps I’ve taken walks down the country lane just to get some exercise; otherwise it’s desk time.  The R&B Events team has been hard at work during my absence, and my major task this week has been to rejoin the crew and help summarize what we know so that we can finalize plans for all the upcoming events.

The frequent rains have given me a chance to check the Airstream’s waterproofness. So far I haven’t found any hints of leaks.  The poor trailer is covered in the usual Vermont-summer mess of decaying flowers, tree branches, spider webs, and pollen, which I hate to see, but otherwise seems OK.  Anything that can rust is busy rusting, so I can tell when I get it back to Arizona I’ll be doing some more scraping and painting. I think our Airstream ages a full year for every three months it spends here.  Fortunately, it hardly ages at all when it is parked under cover in Arizona, so perhaps it averages out.

Can you keep a secret?  I’ve got four days before I fly back to Tucson to assume my secret identity as Temporary Bachelor Man.  That’s just four days to get all fatherly-and husbandly duties in place as best I can before leaving my family for seven or eight weeks.  After that, you may not recognize me.

Written by RichLuhr · Categorized: Current Events, Musings

  • « Previous Page
  • 1
  • …
  • 6
  • 7
  • 8
  • 9
  • 10
  • …
  • 22
  • Next Page »

Recent Posts

  • Upgrading: Bike rack
  • Upgrading: Bathroom vent
  • “How’s that Ranger tow?”
  • Time to roam differently
  • Say this over my grave

Archives

  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • May 2020
  • November 2019
  • September 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • October 2018
  • August 2018
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011
  • November 2011
  • October 2011
  • September 2011
  • August 2011
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • March 2011
  • February 2011
  • January 2011
  • December 2010
  • November 2010
  • October 2010
  • September 2010
  • August 2010
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • April 2010
  • March 2010
  • February 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008

Categories

  • Airstream
  • Airstream Life magazine
  • Alumafandango
  • Alumafiesta
  • Alumaflamingo
  • Alumapalooza
  • Asia
  • Bicycling
  • Books
  • Caravel
  • Current Events
  • Electrical
  • EUC
  • Europe
  • FAQs
  • Ford Ranger
  • Ford Ranger
  • Globetrotter 23FB
  • Home life
  • Interstate motorhome
  • Maintenance
  • Mercedes
  • Mercedes 300D
  • Mercedes GL320
  • Modernism Week
  • Motorcycling
  • Musings
  • National Parks
  • Photos
  • PTX
  • Recipes
  • Renovation
  • Roadtrips
  • Temporary Bachelor Man
  • Tesla
  • Tucson places
  • Uncategorized
  • Upgrades
  • Vehicles

©2004–2015 Church Street Publishing, Inc. “Airstream” used with permission · Site design by Jennifer Mead Creative