Friday, September 28, 2007

There and Back Again - Part One

This is a tale in three parts - kinda like a play.
1. Getting there
2. Being there
3. Getting back.

This is Part One: Getting There

There were three ways to get there (the northern part of Virginia where my LD resided), air, train and bus. Air was out right from the start since I don't have a passport. There appears to be no way to get from Toronto to Harrisonburg, (or anywhere near there), in less than two days by train. Hell, it's only about 650 miles! So that leaves the bus. Twenty-four hours, and $150.00 later I find myself in Charlottesburg VA.

What is it about bus travelers? We left the terminal at 9:30 PM. Most of these people have had all day, or at least all evening to eat dinner, call all their friends and use the bathroom but immediately upon leaving the terminal, out come the lunch bags, snack packages or cell phones, for some, a veritable smorsgabord of goodies accompanied by the squeaks, beeps, squawks and various tunes of their cell phones. And a steady stream of people for the tiny bathroom. Since I had the misfortune of sitting at the rear of the bus, I was subjected to repeated bumps and shoves as each squeezed past my seat.

I found myself seated beside a lady of proportions somewhat in excess of the width of her seat who had an MP3-playing cell phone and who sang along with her tunes when not responding to her phone's repeated bleatings of "Miss you have a text message." The previous occupant of my seat had folded the aisle arm rest down and for the life of me I could not figure out how to raise it. I spent the first leg of the trip in mortal danger of tumbling out of my seat onto the floor of the aisle. Welcome to bus Hell.

We stopped at Lewiston to cross the border (looooong slow lineup at Immigration then collect luggage and pass through Customs), Buffalo to change drivers, Syracuse for a snack, (at 3:00 AM for Goodness sake... who wants to snack?), NYC for a 3-hour layover (the Port Authority Terminal hasn't changed in decades) and bus change, Baltimore for another meal break, (Sbarro pepperoni slice - not bad), Richmond for a second bus change and another 3-hour layover (the only seat available in the terminal was next to the garbage can - I wonder why it was available - and about a zillion flies), and finally Charlottesville 24 hours later.

I have never been so tired.

This lovely lady, and seller who is of some advanced years, met me there and promptly got lost finding her way out of the terminal and to her vehicle. Oh, boy!

We find her truck and surprise surprise, we don't have the detailed maps of Charlottesville I had sent her and she has no idea how she found the bus terminal let alone how to find her way back to the highway. Not to be delayed by incidentals such as going in the right direction, we hurtled off for some random point - at a high rate of speed.

When, 15 minutes later, I see the bus terminal sailing by, I gave up all hope. Like that guy in the song lost on the Boston Transit. Finally we stumble on a sign pointing to the Interstate. Pure dumb luck. Then my chauffeur informs me that she really doesn't like driving at night. Great! She's chatting away like a three year old who's eaten too much chocolate cake and I'm needing toothpicks to keep my eyes open. The speedo is somewhere north of 80.
She stays in her lane by jerking to the right or left when she hears the BBBBBRRRRRRPPPPP of her tires on the edges of the lane.

Finally, we turn down a driveway lined with pine trees and pull up in front of the largest garage I've ever seen. And there, in the garage is my baby. I mumble apologies about being so exhausted and when she opens the door to show me the inside, I almost fall on my face. We say our goodnights and I tumble into a deep dark pit of exhaustion and neither see or hear anything until 8:00 AM the next morning when a cheery voice pipes at the door, "Good morning, Ginger. I have a cup of coffee for you here."

Oh boy! I'm there.
Ginger

Thursday, September 27, 2007

The Search Goes On

The search goes on. Thank goodness I didn't get embroiled in that money-pit in Memphis.

The next breakthrough - I discover Craig's List. No, wait a sec, let me back up. I had been looking for LDs in the on-line RV Trader sites (two of them) and in the for sale section of the Yahoo Lazy Daze group plus random and irregular Google searches of the web. It seemed, to me, that there was a vast black hole somewhere in the universe into which all 1992 26.5' Lazy Dazes were tumbling. I found everything but what I wanted and needed.

Then, someone posted on the Yahoo group that they had found the LD they wanted through massive searches of Craig's List. (By the way, it was a 1992 - major bummer and goodly amounts of envy - that should have been my LD). So I added this to my now daily search regimen. Oh my aching fingers.

As it turns out, all that Craig's List-ing was unnecessary. I found my LD on the RV Trader site. It was a terrible ad: not even a picture, no mention of what floorplan, colour or optional equipment. But it was the right year and length. It was a private ad posted by a lady in Virginia. Well! That sure beats California and even Tennessee for distance. For me, that's just through New York and Pennsylvania and presto! there's Virginia. Well, OK, there's Maryland too and maybe a bit of West Virginia but just tiny bits. Hardly worth mentioning, right?

By the way, why does West Virginia exist? Why isn't it all just Virginia? Or why isn't it West Virginia and East Virginia? Same goes for North and South Carolina, North and South Dakota. We Canadians don't chop provinces up into North and South Alberta or East and West Ontario. Oh well... Anyway, back to the saga.

I called the seller who turned out to be a delightful lady by the name of Wilma. She had bought a newer 30 foot LD and this, of course, necessitated selling the older one. The one she was selling sounded to be in very good shape, well maintained and with some nice extra goodies such as two, count 'em, two solar panels and six newish tires. On the down side it was my least favourite floorplan - the Rear Bath - and the colour was silver which comes out better only than brown but by a vanishingly small margin. She was happy to have someone come and look it over and even take it to an RV dealer for a professional going-over. We had a nice chat about Lazy Dazes and this 'n that. She was quite a chatter-box and totally charming. I liked her right from the start. I almost told her I would buy it then and there but I restrained myself.

Images of senior citizen con artists popped into my head just in time. I saw visions of banks of computer terminals manned by grey haired retirees in headsets sweet-talking us youngsters out of our hard-earned savings. Yeah, right... Anyway, a cooler head prevailed and I set out to find an evaluator samaritan or at least a local RV dealer, deep in the terra incognita hills, (they call them mountains), of Virginia.

I posted a request in the Yahoo "lifeinalazydazerv" group for someone, who I would compensate, who was near the RV's location, who could take a look and/or maybe deal with the local RV service operation on my behalf. Now, this wasn't such an unreasonable request: people made them all the time and usually someone responds positively. Not this time. Someone made the suggestion of just contacting a local RV shop. Well, hmmm, I guess...

I decided to post the same request in the Internet news group rec.outdoors.rv-travel (RORT). Now, moderated groups like the Yahoo LD group and kind of warm and fuzzy: friendly and supportive. Un-moderated newsgroups like RORT are more free-wheeling, edgy and sometimes downright mean. Kinda like the difference between Pleasantville and New York City. I had few hopes of finding my "white knight" and some fear of getting smacked around (electronically speaking). But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I posted my story and request and waited......

My white knight, who shall hence forward be referred to as "Sir Frank", answered and volunteered to go for a looksee. I immediately called Wilma and asked if she would be alright with this, (older lady, strange man, could be a problem), but she was fine. (I later learned that not much fazes Wilma.) I gave her the details and passed on hers to Sir Frank. And immediately began fussing.



While we're waiting for the results I'll tell you a snippet about Wilma. To begin, this lady is past retirement age and a couple of decades older than me. I have no plans to climb up into the over-cab bed to sleep. Uh, uh, not me, no way. The reason she bought the bigger unit was to get a proper bed, on ground zero so to speak, on the insistence of her son who isn't OK with her climbing up into and out of the over-cab bed. She had no problem with it herself. And that sums up Wilma. Adventurous and fearless. Back to the story.

After a couple of days of world-class fussing I come home to voice mail from Sir Frank and e-mail with a link to a web page he had set up with pictures!!!! He was shown everything but the water heater - no water in the rig - and assured that the non-functioning dash air would be repaired. Everything worked as expected and was found as described. The rig was clean and in good shape and he recommended buying it. He also mentioned that while he was there, Wilma took a call from another interested party.

Even though it wasn't the desired floorplan and colour, I wasn't going to let it get away from me. I called Wima, made her an offer and she accepted! So, two years of study, wishing, hoping, dreaming, envy and of course, fussing, were finally coming to an end and I (almost) owned a Lazy Daze RV - my first motorhome.

Good grief, what have I done? Well, I've spent a largish sum of money on a complex machine in a foreign country owned by a stranger on the advice of a stranger which I must navigate across 650 miles and an international border - all by myself.



Are you curious to see her?




Pretty, isn't she?

Catch you later,
Ginger

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Catching Up

Oh, my! The last post here was way back in March. So much has happened... where to begin.

Firstly, let me till you "the rest of the story" about the Lazy Daze in Tennessee. That darn rig caused me more fussing than any broken romance. I checked that ad - at least weekly, (oh OK OK almost daily), - until it disappeared. Poof! Much regret and second-guessing followed. I should have bought it and stored it 'til July. I watched the ads like a hawk for other '92s for sale; not even one. Then, in July when I hadn't found another unit and the original one would have been importable I found "my" LD in someone's blog. I was searching the 'net for Lazy Dazes for sale, and came across the blog of the scoundrel who had purchased "my" LD.

Well, let me tell you, did he ever buy himself a world of hurt. If he paid the price the owner had was asking me, he got fleeced good and proper. The blog didn't say whether he knew about the rig's problems before he bought it or whether he knew but didn't understand the cost to repair the damage or what, but the rig had been leaking around the fridge vent for some time and the wall and floor was rotted. The rot was so bad that when he filled the fresh water tank you could see the side panel open up as a result of the floor sagging under the weight of the full tank.

This is a very bad situation. In an RV, water is not on your side. Sometimes, my friends, things happen for a reason. If this guy is handy and he was savvy about the water damage and negotiated hard for a much reduced price then he may come out of this with a rig suited to his needs. I do not need a project. I am not handy. Don't want to learn how to be handy. I want a rig where everything works and I will pay people to keep them working.

Here's a link to the poor soul's blog. I have forgiven him for snatching "my" Lazy Daze.

http://www.coxontool.com/index.php/LazyDaze/HomePage

And here's a link to the water damage page.

http://www.coxontool.com/index.php/LazyDaze/MajorWaterLeak

It took until August to find the right rig for me. It wasn't exactly what I was looking for but it was perfect for me. I will post the saga of my journey acquiring it and getting it home.

Catch you later,
Ginger