The Road Runner, Priscilla Queen of the Desert--Palm Springs, CA Dec 29, 2011

We bought the "new" diesel motorhome. I said new simply because it will be new to us, but the new motorhome is a few years old and no it ain't old enough to have an eight track tape player. But get this, its odometer reads 7000 miles.  We actually will receive it next week. It has most of the features that we really wanted, and is a little older than I wanted, but we thought it was a good replacement for The Love Boat. We don't know what to call it yet, so I am going to call it The Road Runner until I find a better name for it. The name The Road Runner came to us during a walk yesterday when we actually saw a road runner.  The name likely will change in the coming weeks. Walter and Melissa from Raleigh are flying to Palm Springs to help us bring the motorhomes to Raleighwood.  You remember Walter as the young man that has traveled with us a few times.  I guess we will have us  a convey there good buddy.  Here are a few pictures of The Road Runner (dang that name will change).

No, the cheesy table on the bed was added by the dealer to entice nitwits.   I won't bore you with the details, but I will say the new motorhome is seven feet longer than The Love Boat, and has almost three times the torque of The Love Boat with only a weight gain of 50%. All of the engineers that read this blog will know what that last sentence means. Basically, The Road Runner has a great deal more pulling and vehicle passing power, and it will have at least 50% better fuel mileage. For the democrats that read this blog who are skeptical of the truth, you know who you are because your lips are moving as you read this, yes the thing will get better fuel economy due to it being a diesel. If you don't believe me please readjust your tinfoil cap as it is too tight.

We are having a few things changed on The Road Runner, because it is cheaper to have that kind of work done here than it Raleighwood.  First, we are having some repainting done where a few scratches are present. Second, we are having the carpeting replaced which is tremendously expensive in NC due to the labor.  The Road Runner will look almost new.  Enough talk about the stupid motorhome. What you guys want to know about is what nitwit did I run into.

Let's just say that I did almost run into a nitwit.  Last night I was walking from The Love Boat to my in-laws place (Deb and The Puppies were already there) which is a couple/three blocks away. I cut through the park to shorten the trip instead of walking around the road which is a little longer.  Anyway, I had to walk past the laundry which has a large walkway beside it. Here is a picture and please note the curb on the right of the walkway and the open entrance in the center of the picture but at the end of the building.

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As I said, I was walking down this path along the right side of the path. I was actually a foot from the curb. Well, out walks Priscilla, Queen of the Desert at a somewhat hurried pace from the entrance that I just pointed out. I should add that Priscilla was about a foot shorter than me in height.  The nitwit walked at a diagonal headed to the curb where The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy was walking, jabbering about something that was said for my benefit. Then Priscilla hurriedly cut between me and the curb jabbering some idjit nonsense. Again, I was about a foot from the curb.  What got me was when Priscilla looked up at me--jabbering the entire time--and gave The Big Ole Dumb Heterosexual Southern Boy a look like he had met his next next mattress polo partner. I was appalled and fairly irritated that he cut in front of me but being flirtatious was a lot to process with my limited brain capacity, so I just growled at him.   The equivalent scenario would have me walking up to a mama bear after kicking her cub and telling the mama bear that she would look wonderful adorning my boudoir.  Believe you me,  I thought about dropkicking Priscilla through his goalposts of life, but I didn't and kept walking.  Meanwhile Priscilla was jabbering and looking back at me as I was walking away. Again, I would equate that to me yelling at the mama bear who was walking away, "Come back and give me some good loving baby". Jumping gee willikers.  The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy has no desires to switch teams--end of subject.

Yall have a great day.
Al