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Archive for March, 2008

Getting psyched

 This morning we dropped off our houseguest, Christine, at a friend’s to go horse riding. All around Tucson there are pockets of “horse country,” where you can show up with your horse trailer and RV, park for a few months, and ride all winter long.

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These places are basically spacious campgrounds in the country with horse boarding.   The place we visited this morning is called Spirit Dog Ranch.     It sits in a shallow valley near the base of the Santa Catalinas in Oro Valley, bordering Catalina State Park.   We watched the horses playing for a few minutes, then headed out to do a little shopping.

Based on suggestions from blog readers, I bought a sacrificial anode rod   for the water heater.   As full-timers, it probably would have been a good idea to get one two years ago, but better late than never.   The version I bought incorporates a quick-drain, useful for easy winterizing.

sierra-vista-route-map.jpgOur travels will resume tomorrow, at least for a short time.   We are heading to Sierra Vista for a few days, just to blow the cobwebs off the trailer.   Officially, our purpose is to do some birdwatching and hiking, but in reality we’re just getting out of town to avoid sitting around another week waiting for the countertops to show up.

Having been stopped since January, when I got back from Quartzsite, it’s interesting to experience the pre-trip excitement.   I’ve been talking to Brent, who we are joining in Sierra Vista, every few days to “prepare” for the trip.   There really isn’t that much preparation needed, but when you are looking forward to a trip, the preparation can be half the fun.

We have always anticipated each new phase of our trip, and every major stop, but of course there’s more contrast when you are parked and waiting to go. This trip is a mere 60 miles, less than we drove today to go shopping, but it has become a major event in our otherwise-sedentary lives.   It’s not the distance that matters, it’s the change of scene.

Our other anticipated travel to Sonora, MX has attracted even more attention.   Our friends the Neels have been emailed every few days with reports of their preparations.   They are coming from California to meet us here, and then head across the border with us, around the 29th.   Today’s email from David reported the status of his tires, wheel bearings, propane, insurance, family health, and iPod.

I also heard from Adam today.   He and Susan are up in Maine, feverishly working to escape the damp, snowy, northeast and join us here for the Mexico trip as well.   His reports are like David’s, and every few days I get an update on the progress.

I like getting the progress reports from my friends.   It shows that they, too, are excited to travel.   People who get excited about travel are the sort of people we like to travel with.   There is no doubt we will have a superb time because of our friends, and that’s the best type of trip to be anticipating.

Health care on the road

I cannot imagine a more frustrating subject than that of health care for full-time travelers.   How do you make sure you are covered, if a problem crops up while you are on the road?   It is one of those questions that has no good answer.

I have spoken to dozens of people about this, and numerous full-timers, and it is clear there is no “magic bullet” solution. Most of my retired traveling friends have government- or corporate-sponsored retirement health plans, so they don’t worry about it.   Others are carrying over their health insurance from their last jobs, under the COBRA act.   Some are covered under a spouse’s plan.   But quite a few are “bare” — meaning they have no insurance at all, or inadequate insurance.

We fall in the last category: our coverage is really inadequate.   For everything except emergencies, we have to go back to Vermont.   When Eleanor had a major migraine episode two years ago, we paid cash for medical care in Tampa, then flew her to Vermont for follow-up.   Obviously that’s far from ideal.

For those who do have health insurance, when I ask what happens if they get sick while far from home, most don’t know.   They aren’t sure if their health insurance covers them out-of-state, and if so, for how long.   Emergencies only?   Follow-up visits?   Full reimbursement, or just partial?   When I ask, I usually get a blank look.

Most people aren’t sure if they are covered in while traveling in Canada or Mexico.   They don’t know if they will have to pay up-front and fight for reimbursement later.   They don’t know how to get a doctor referral in a strange town.

And even if you know all those answers … can you afford health insurance without an employer to pay most of the premium?

I hate to dry up the blog with a subject like this, but it’s a huge problem — for us, and for many others.   We are at the intersection of two negative factors:   we are full-time travelers, and I am self-employed.   That means we need coverage that goes everywhere in the USA, and we need something that is affordable.   But in the US, you can have a nationwide network of doctors, affordable prices, or good reimbursement for your expenses — pick any two.

The current presidential campaign certainly has brought up the issue of health care cost and availability, but I am not filled with hope that any of the candidates will be effective at doing something about it.   The problem is huge.   It seems likely that for the foreseeable future I’ll be responsible for paying for the health care of my family.

On the plus side, we have small advantages.   We can become residents of a state where there are more healthcare insurance options.   As my own employer, I can institute any health plan that is available to us.   A lot of people are going to partially self-insured plans, or “consumer directed coverage” such as a Health Savings Account (HSA).   That may be an option for us.

But in the current health care environment, any solution is complex, filled with little “gotchas” and highly individualized.   What works for us may not work for you.   So when people innocently ask me, “What do you do about health care on the road?” I can only sigh … because I know any answer I give will probably not be useful.

Status report:   Little things are happening, but still not much.   Jim Breitinger (“the Airstreaming Meteorite Dealer“) is in town, and he dropped by for lunch on Wednesday.   Contractor Chris has been here to work on the shower tile both Thursday and Friday, but with grout drying time and sealant, the shower won’t be available to us until next week.   Still no word from the countertop guys, and we don’t expect to hear anything for a week.

We gave the grapefruit tree a major trimming yesterday.   The poor thing has been badly neglected and allowed to grow in all sorts of crazy directions.   I’m trying to convert it from a fluffy green bush to a real tree that can produce more than a dozen grapefruit.   Now it looks like a kid with a new military haircut.   That’s the first step toward improving the backyard.   Up to now it has been just a dumping ground for the contractors.   It’s basically made up of weeds, cut-off bits of tile & slate, and junk.   Rather than try to fix it up, we’re going to leave it looking like a back alley this summer.   It’s a project for another day.But I will at least make sure the old toilet, junk plywood, scum-encrusted shower doors, and garbage cans are cleaned up before we go.

I’m thinking about stuff like that because our departure is looming in a serious way now. Time to start on the checklist of items: set up house-watching, clean up the junk, clear out the refrigerator and freezer, re-pack the Airstream, pump up the tires and lube the hitch, etc.   The list is not long and that’s a good thing, because we bought this house with the intent of having it be easy to live in, and easy to leave.

No news is good news

With me posting only every other day instead of daily, you might expect each post to be twice as good. But that’s like crossing the International Date Line and expecting to have the same day you had yesterday…

I realized why I am so stymied right now. We are caught between two worlds. At one time this was a travel blog (and it will be again!), and then I promised it would become a house renovation blog. At this point it is neither, because we can’t go anywhere and yet there’s nothing happening to the house either.

This is what most people would refer to as a stable, normal lifestyle. A lot of people prefer an uneventful life: get up, go to work, come home, watch some TV, repeat ad infinitum. They like to avoid surprises, at least those of the unsettling variety. We have an opportunity for that right now. We could easily settle in here. Just enroll Emma in the local school, start attending the PTA meetings, join the local uke club, and enjoy a completely safe and reliable lifestyle in a lovely spot in suburbia.

But if this break from full-time travel has taught me anything, it is that I am not cut out for that. I may lost a few of the more prickly edges in recent years, but I am far from ready to sit still. I love where we are right now, but then, I’d love where we are going, too. I have become a travel junkie.

And it’s not just me. I suppose some people might have thought that a year or two on the road would have caused us all to “get it out of our system,” or “appreciate being home more,” but the opposite seems to have happened. Having lived in the Airstream for two years, we can’t seem to get out of it. In the house, we have a ready made bedroom, with curtains, bed, new mattress & pillows, and a pair dressers. It has a lovely view of the Santa Catalina mountains, and beautiful morning light. So why are we still sleeping in the Airstream in the carport, where there is hardly any light and much less space?

Because it is home. Eleanor logically points out that if we slept in the house, with the sinks and showers still not fully operational, we’d have to go back to the Airstream to brush our teeth at bedtime, a small nuisance. But I think a lot of people would be eager, even desperate, to get into their new house — the one they’ve owned for nearly a year, and have only slept in once. Let’s face it, what she’s really saying is the Airstream is more comfortable. That is a direct result of living in it, and loving it, for two years.

At some point, we will sleep in the house, and if we can get somebody to show up and actually install the countertops, the rest of the details will fall into place, making the house fully functional.   At that point, however, it will probably be too close to our departure date.   So we’ll just spent a perfunctory night or two in the house and then take off in the Airstream.   Score: Airstream 362, House 3.

Absolutely nothing has happened on the house since last week.   But we did receive a package of glass tile from the UPS truck on Monday.   (Mail deliveries are a big part of our daily excitement these days.   Emma loves to run out and catch the mail truck, hoping for letters or magazines addressed to her.)

The box of tile means that when Contractor Chris has a chance, he will be able to finish the hall shower.   Since we are expecting a house guest on Thursday, who will be sleeping in the house, a working shower would be appreciated as soon as possible.

Come to think of it, when we leave Tucson, our guest Christine, and our previous guest Brett, will both have slept in our house many more times than we will have.   Perhaps that is why we bought it: guest quarters!

This fall our friend Doug Keister will be releasing his new book, “Teardrops and Tiny Trailers.” He’s the guy who wrote “Mobile Mansions,” “Silver Palaces,” and “Ready to Roll,” all books about vintage trailers and RVs.   I think we have them all.   Doug offers signed copies of his books if you know the right people.

Fortunately by reading this blog, you do.   If you care to buy any of his books and want a signed copy and want to support this blog, use this link to buy books from Doug Keister.   Right now only Mobile Mansions and Silver Palaces are available as signed copies, but I’ll post a reminder on the blog when “Teardrops and Tiny Trailers” comes out.   Using the special link above means I get a small kickback on the book sales.

Uke song of the day:The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea” as performed by George Harrison. This is a fun one, but it requires the somewhat tricky E chord, which I haven’t mastered yet. Chord tabs here.

Siesta for the blog

I’ve decided to put you all on half-rations for a while.   I’m going to give the blog a rest, and post only every other day this week.

There are two primary reasons for this.

  1. After over 900 nearly consecutive blog entries, I think I’ve earned a vacation for a bit.
  2. Let’s face it, our life is just not very interesting right now, even to me.

The past few weeks I’ve been struggling to tell you something, anything, interesting that relates to Airstream travel.   But I’m getting tired of hearing myself re-hash old themes: planning the next trip, maintenance on the Airstream, travel philosophy, budgeting, etc.   I have to face reality: right now we are just sitting here and waiting for a chance to run away.

And while we are sitting here, our lives look a lot like everyone else’s.   We brush our teeth in the morning.   We work and go to school.   We buy groceries and take out the trash.   We pay the bills and work on the house.   Except for the fact that we still live in the driveway in an Airstream, our lives are hardly distinguishable from the other people living on this street.

This will change in a week, when we have a trip to southern Arizona planned with our friend Brent and his daughter Kendal.   And in three weeks we’ll head out again, this time to Sonora with our friends David, Ariadna, and their son William.   A couple of days after that, we’ll start trekking east through NM, TX, LA, MS, and FL.   But right now, we’re parked and there just isn’t a whole lot to be said about it.

This is a good thing, really.   It’s time for a little vacation.   Since I began working from home in 1993 as a self-employed person, I have tried to take full advantage of the opportunities for vacation that self-employment can offer.   Most of the time working for yourself is rough.   As my friend Steve Bertocci used to say, “Working for yourself is hard because the boss is a bastard.”   It’s true.   Like most successful self-employed people, I work much longer and harder than I ever did when I was working for other people.

But I’ve learned that if you are willing to work hard when the job calls for it, you should be ready to vacation whenever you get the chance.   In other words, when things quiet down unexpectedly and you’ve got a dull afternoon, just leave the office.    Don’t sit around filling the hours browsing the web or playing Solitaire.   Get out and have fun, because there will come another day when you are locked in the office for 15 hours straight.

It all balances out in the end. So the signs are telling me to take a vacation this week (from the blog, but not from the day job, sadly), and enjoy it, because soon we’ll be back on the road and I’ll hopefully have more blog material than I can handle.   In the meantime, hang in there.   I’ll blog every other day this week and resume the daily blog as soon as events warrant, probably next Monday.

Guest blogger

Tonight I am letting Wally Byam take over the blog.   My friend Dale Schwamborn, who I introduced in this blog a few days back, has shared with me a letter written by Wally to one of his fraternity brothers (Wally was a Sigma Chi).   See if you can see the similarities in travel perspectives (to mine, and your own) in Wally’s letter from half a century ago:

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April 20, 1959

Dear Sam:

Nice to get your note … I’m asking the secretary of the Wally Byam Caravan Club to send you a copy of ‘Parade’ magazine.   They wrote a rather interesting article about me, and also, did you know that National Geographic Magazine devoted 35 pages to the Wally Byam Caravan to Europe in their June 1957 issue? More recently, I’ve appeared on coast to coast television programs with my caravan to Central America.

Right now we are preparing a caravan of some 40 trailers and trucks, which will sail for Africa in May and June of this year and leave Capetown in South Africa on July 14th, on a 12,000 mile trip north through Africa, eventually coming out in Cairo on December 5th.   In the process, we expect to park the   caravan under the nose of the sphinx in the Nile valley and if luck goes with us to be in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve.   All these things make startling and interesting publicity.   The real interesting thing is that although this trip to Africa has never been done before by a group of caravanners such as ours and   has a lot of elements of real adventure and not small element of danger   in it, the average age of   the people going   is 67 years and the oldest man is 87.   They all drive their own trucks and act in a general way like kids.   The trick is that with trailers like ours they can rest whenever they get tired and they have all the comforts of home,   including hot and cold running water, showers, bathtub, flushing toilet, wonderful beds, refrigerators, good stoves, air conditioners, just about everything you could call for.   Thus, the old guy really takes life easy on a very hazardous journey.   I wonder if any of these things would make a good story for some of the Sig magazines sometime.   You can’t blame a guy for tooting his own horn occasionally.

Apparently the only people still living from my class at Stanford are Eddie Randall, who I often meet in Washington D.C. and Tex Talbert of Beverly Hills.   Tex says he doesn’t go to meetings anymore because he is always the oldest guy there and he does not like that designation.

I sure hope I can drop in some noon, but it seems that I am always traveling.

Very sincerely,

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Wally Byam

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If you know anything about Airstream’s history, you know that the Cape Town to Cairo caravan became the most famous caravan in Airstream’s history, and probably the most publicized caravan in all of RV’ing history. Wally knew he was on to something — and as you can see, he was a relentless publicist — but I bet even he didn’t know how important this trip would be.   We still talk about it today, and publish the photos in Airstream Life magazine.

I find his closing line to be the most poignant of this letter.   He was indeed always traveling, and apparently enjoyed that more than anything else in life.   Three years after this letter was written he died of cancer, at a relatively young age by today’s standards, but with an incredible and fulfilling life behind him.

Keeping the Airstream happy

For the past few days there has been a mysterious drip under the Airstream’s water heater.   At first I thought we just had a bit of condensation, but when it didn’t go away I realized we had a leak.   I’m sure you can see the irony of this coming on the heels of yesterday’s post about all the leaks in the house.

The leak itself was simple to fix, fortunately.   Water was seeping past the nylon drain plug.   I simply turned off the heater, shut off the water, and removed the plug (thus dumping 6 gallons of warm water, which I collected in a bucket).   Then I cleaned the mineral deposits out of the plug’s threads, wrapped it in Teflon pipe thread tape, and reinstalled it.   Problem solved.

But why did it leak in the first place?   Our Airstream has bumped over some pretty brutal roads in the past two years, and it never leaked.   Why is it that just sitting here in the driveway the water heater drain plug suddenly starts to drip?

I think the Airstream is telling us that we need to use it or lose it.   A sedentary life of sitting in the driveway doesn’t suit it.   The poor thing probably thinks it has been retired, like a greyhound after a few years of chasing rabbits at the race track.   The longer it sits, the more the little things may start to dry out, crack, discolor, squeak, and settle.

You may think I’m joking but really, these trailers are happier when moving.   They’re like people: a little exercise is good for them.   The motion of the wheels moving over the road helps keep the tire rubber and the rubber cords in the axle supple and strong.   Regular use of the air conditioner and refrigerator help them stave off early death from internal rust.   Gaskets on windows, doors, and even the toilet’s seal will all dry out if ignored; regular use makes it obvious when things need attending to.

When we are in the trailer and using it daily, we take care of it daily.   That may be a function of full-timing rather than the usual mode of vacation getaways.   I’m sure when most people are out in their RVs their mind is on escaping work, rather than servicing the rig.   We’re more accustomed to fixing things as we go, because up till now there hasn’t been any other opportunity.

However, we may have a chance to get some things done later this month, before we head out again.   My short-term “fix list” looks like this:

  • repair non-working heat pump (and possibly A/C)
  • replace bumper compartment cover and misc trim (damaged last month)

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My longer-term list contains these items:

  • implement a solution for the problem of the front storage compartment leaking when towing in the rain.   We have several ideas but haven’t decided which path to take.
  • install the catalytic heater
  • install the replacement Fantastic Vent motor/control board. The one in our front bedroom has a problem which causes the motor to “surge” but Fantastic Vent sent me a replacement unit.
  • repaint A-frame — it is getting a little rusty.
  • unbend and repaint the rear scrapers (which are now U-shaped thanks to a gas station in CA)

And my “wish list” is:

  • add an external connection for a satellite Internet dish, which I have purchased but not yet activated (for travel in remote places)
  • install a second Vista View window in the front bedroom
  • upgrade the power converter to an Intellipower (for faster 3-stage charging)

My plan is to take care of the short-term list before we go, or along the route, because the heat pump will only be under warranty for another few weeks.   The rest can wait until we get to one of our favorite Airstream repair people — or to one of our handy friends in Florida, if we can recruit them.

Although the lists above may seem long, they are absolutely nothing compared to the lists we’ve been making of things to do for the house.   An Airstream is much easier to care for than a house, and much less expensive.   I’m rather impressed that with all the use we’ve put ours through, it needs relatively little to keep going down the road in good condition.

Preparing lists like this for the house can be depressing (all that money!) but in the context of the Airstream it is actually a little inspiring.   Planning upgrades and repairs means travel is on the   horizon.     And travel is our Airstream’s exercise plan.   When it moves, it’s happy, and when it’s happy, I’m happy too.

Inside the walls

Dare I say that we have tackled the last few leaks in this house — The House Of 1,000 Leaks?

Since we bought the place last year we have been randomly discovering leaks in the plumbing, and repairing them as they turn up.   It started with a dripping garden hose faucet outside, and the hot water line for the washing machine.   Then we started to see leaks everywhere: the shutoff for the toilet didn’t quite shut off; the toilet ran until you jiggled the handle; another outside faucet began to drip, then another.

We eventually replaced every bit of plumbing in the house except for the lines themselves.   This included all four outside faucets, three sink faucets and associated shutoffs, laundry connections, two toilet shutoffs, both toilets, ice maker shutoff, and even the shutoff to the house itself (which didn’t shut off).   For a while we were complacent in our water-thriftiness, until a couple of weeks ago.

Then I noticed the thin wet line below the tub faucet in Emma’s bathroom.   The thin wet line never stopped, even when the shower taps were closed for days …

And then I noticed the little puddle on the floor, that seemed to arise from the tile grout itself, like a natural spring, after a shower in the hall bathroom …

We had forgotten about the shower taps.   Like every other water fixture in the house, they were 37 years old.   The washers were long since worn out, and they were leaking water, possibly inside the walls.   This gave me visions of black mold and rotted wood.   Who knew what evils lurked in the dark, behind the tile?

tucson-bath-demo.jpgThis was a tough call.   A peek inside the wall would be expensive, and we’d undoubtedly break the tiles.   Since they are impossible to match with modern tiles, we’d have to come up with a complementary tile to replace them.

We decided that if were going to sleep well at night, and leave this house alone for months at a time, we needed to do some exploratory surgery. After some planning, we arranged to have the showers gently dissected, saving as many of the original tiles as possible. Eleanor found a nice glass tile that will go well with the originals and placed an order for them.

Today was surgery day.   Contractor Chris came over and took things apart. He confirmed that the taps were leaking — badly — but that no damage had been done behind the walls.   The water was dripping onto a hidden edge of the tub and thus never reached the wood studs in the wall.   In the hall bath he replaced the ancient three-knob system with a modern self-balancing shower control and put everything back together.   Next week, when the tile order comes in, he’ll finish the job.

In Emma’s bath, things are much worse.   That shower has been heavily used over the past decades, and it really could use a complete rebuilding.   We had Chris remove the old leaking taps, seal up the plumbing, and just leave the wall open.   We’re going to ignore this bath until we get back in the fall, figuring that we can take all summer to decide what we want to do about it.

For now, ours will be a 1.5 bath house.   Being just the three of us, we don’t really need two full baths anyway, and since we’ve lived in an Airstream for over two years with only one very small bathroom, even having an extra half-bath represents complete luxury bordering on decadence.   Our expectations of a house have been re-defined by our travel experience: if it doesn’t leak and we have one good bathroom, we’re happy.

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