Danger whining ahead. Proceed with caution at your own risk.
Uncle, uncle, uncle, UNCLE, UNCLE. There I called it. UNCLE. Please Lord make it stop. What a day we had. I troubleshot the stabilizer problem that I mention in yesterday's blog entry to a controller module. We took it to a dealership today and their service guys confirmed it is a controller module that they don't have in stock and will take a while to get. Uncle.. No problem, I studied the module and after a trip to Home Depot, bought the stuff to make a manual bypass. It will take a few minutes and will require crawling under the motorhome each time we camp, but it will work. McGuyer learned his stuff at University of Al. Uncle. No I don't have Turret's Syndrome. I just want to make sure that whatever is causing this meltdown of my karma understands that I give. You understand what I mean about the term uncle. It is when your older brother pushed your head in a mudpuddle until you yelled Uncle. Uncle.
After the morning spent dealing with the stabilizer problem, uncle, we left Detroit (pronounced DeeTroit in the South) and started the remaining 400 miles to Sault Sainte Marie where we are now. Uncle. The only problem is that the last 43 miles was by tow truck. Yep, we ran into rain and it made the motor stop. It was not rain but a torrential downpour and it made The Love Boat stop on the northern side of the Mackinac Bridge to which I will talk about tomorrow when I quit whining. Uncle. Anyway, the breakdown occurred in an incredibly isolated part of Michigan. The nearest tow truck was an hour drive away. UNCLE, UNCLE. I bought Good Sams Emergency Road Service last year. The tow today and tomorrow is paid by the road service to a tune of $275 today and $125 tomorrow. A young guy towed us to our campground. The tow truck driver and I talked about some bizarre stuff, again, to which I will talk about tomorrow. Deb and I are fine for the night and tomorrow we are being towed to a repair shop if they can find one. We may be here a couple extra days. Uncle. However, when we were on the side of the road I called my friend Walter who has helped me work on The Love Boat for almost a year. He knows The Love Boat as good or better than me. Walter suggested that I try the air filter for water since his truck has a similar design that routinely strands him in heavy rain. I removed the air filter and a lot of water came out. The repair to the motorhome may be as simple as an air filter. We shall see tomorrow. Uncle, uncle, uncle.
The puppies (Monty and Riley) are acclimating to the drive and may be fine if Monty's hair doesn't fallout due to PTBSD which is similar to PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). You know the disorder which soldiers sometimes acquire from combat. Many Vietnam veterans suffer from it. Anyway, PTBSD is Pupply Tramatic Brrrruuup Stress Disorder. It is caused by The Love Boat's tires crossing the rumble strip on the edge of the road--you know the grooves ground into the asphalt on interstates next to the white line. Each time the wind forced me over a little, and I drove to the side of the road, The Love Boat would make a loud BBBRRRRUUUUUUPPPPPP. That sound makes Monty lose his mind. He jumps up and dives for cover under somebody's feet or under a chair then acts demonized. It looks like he is having some of flashback from Vietnam and taking cover from artillery or something. We have found large quantities of dog hair in the front of The Love Boat which we believe to be Monty's hair falling out due to PTBSD. At this rate Monty will look like a Chinese Crested ( a bald dog) by the time we get home. BRRRRUUUPPP duck and cover Monty. Incoming. Monty said to tell you that he has declared uncle too. Uncle.
I have a gazillion funny things to talk about that have happened in the last couple of days, but I will save them until tomorrow when my composure returns. Uncle. We are on schedule but may need to modify our travel plans to accommodate some recent events. Uncle, uncle, uncle, and finally uncle.
Yours unclely,
Al
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