The title of this post is one of Gary's favorite phrases, uttered on occasions when we spend more than we thought we would but get something we want. Such is the case with our latest purchase, now known familiarly as "Big Eddy." (Gary's smaller Vanagon is "Slow Eddy." We'll save that story for another day.)
You'll recall from our last post that we purchased a mini-motorhome for the incredibly low price of $7,500 -- a Craig's List bargain if there ever was one. Come to find out, however, that that big check was just the beginning.
First, the unworn tires (all six of them--truck tires, at that) turned out to be nine and 15 years old. We discovered that when Gary read the meticulous records that came with the rig. A call to Schwab (the tire store, not the financial advisor) disclosed that any rubber over six years old has lost its resilience, and a tire made of it may be unreliable at high speeds. The result: "Eddy" got new shoes, and we became less well-heeled by $1,200. (You may wonder why we weren’t concerned about the age of the tires. Simple: They only had a few thousand miles on them and looked so good; we didn’t realize that rubber that's not worn can nonetheless be subject to blow-out.)
More egregious but not totally unexpected was the actual (vs. the purported) gas mileage. "Eddy" has an automatic transmission and cruise control, but that big Ford engine is pulling a lot of weight (several tons), and let's face it, that takes gas. Lots of it. Instead of the 9 to 12 miles per gallon the previous owner said he was getting, our maiden voyage from Boise to Sun Valley clocked in at a scant 7 mpg. Our first clue was when Gary noticed the gas gauge needle dropping in front of his eyes as we crept up Rattlesnake Grade north of Mountain Home. That was just before the engine popped out of cruise control and lost power abruptly, yet another surprise. (Lesson for driver: Do not attempt to climb steep grades while in cruise control.)
And then there were sales tax and vehicle registration fees, additional vehicle insurance coverage and upping AAA to "Plus RV" so they'll tow "Eddy" if he falters. To learn about our new world and get discounts in RV parks, we joined Camper World and Good Sam Club. To allow me to work on the road we bought a Verizon data key and signed up for monthly cellular service. To power a laptop or other device from the vehicle battery while driving, I invested in a Radio Shack 350 watt 2-outlet power inverter (a nifty gadget with a fan that plugs into the cigarette lighter on one end and your electric items on the other). To sleep more comfortably in the queen over-cab bed, we brought home a foam mattress topper from Costco. Gary spent a week fixing little things—a screw here, a bolt there, changed oil and filters, greased a few joints—and wants to buy a used cargo carrier for tools and such. Oh, and we just had a mechanic give the engine and front end a thorough exam, and while “Eddy” passed with flying colors, our wallet shrank again. All told, these extra expenses are pushing the total cost of the road-ready rig to around $10,000.
Is it still worth it? You bet! We will be living in this mini-RV for two months and driving some 6,000 miles on this trip alone, and we want it to be as safe, comfortable and reliable as our home/workplace in Boise.
Lesson #2 in motorhome living: The cost of the vehicle is only the first – many more will follow.
Next: A little help from our friends.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
A Little Background
This year marks Gary's 70th birthday, his aunt's 90th and his daughter's 50th--all within a couple of weeks of each other in mid-October. Cause for celebration, right?! So Gary and I decided to take a road trip back to Michigan for the reunion. During a weekend photo workshop in July at Craters of the Moon, however, we realized that Gary's Vanagon wasn't gonna cut it as a two-person rig: no pop-top, hardly enough space inside to turn around.
So Gary got on Craig's List to see what was out there in a more comfy size. We spent a couple of weeks checking out everything from used VW Eurovans ($20,000 and $30,000, respectively, for vehicles with 100,000 miles on 'em already, and they weren't much bigger than the Vanagon) to pickup trucks with over-cab campers ($4,500 or less, but often in bad shape). We drove to Nyssa to see a real motorhome (its 6' ceiling and Gary's 6' height weren't compatible) and test-drove a $15,000, 35-footer that was falling apart inside and out).
Wondering if we'd ever find a rig we a) liked b) could afford, we went back to a Craig's List item we had passed over earlier in the week, due to photos that showed what appeared to be a funky pink interior. The seller was able to meet us in Meridian one evening, but by the time we got there, it was too dark to test-drive it. What we saw made us perk up, though.
The "pink" couches and chairs turned out to be salmon-colored velvet, quite soft and luxurious. Instead of fake plywood, the numerous cupboards, closet doors and other appointments were oak and in nearly perfect condition. It was designed thoughtfully, with adequate storage and living space, queen and double beds and a generous-size bathroom that held not only a shower but a TUB and a three-panel mirror with make-up lights! Gary approved of the generator, propane and dual electrical system capabilities. I could see us whipping up meals in the small but well-laid-out kitchen with its 4-burner stove, good-sized refrigerator and freezer, and microwave. The tires weren't worn, the switches all worked. The exterior looked kinda like an Airstream painted dove gray. Best of all: The Class C, 27-foot 1984 LondonAire on a Ford Econoline van chassis powered by a Ford 460 engine cost only... $7,500! We wrote out a $500 check that night to hold it until we could test drive it the next morning.
After the test drive, we wrote out another check, and the vehicle was ours! Gary drove it home, I followed in our car. Nothing fell off the rig; the brakes appeared to work. And then came our first challenge: maneuvering it up our long, steep, narrow driveway to the parking area behind our Foothills house. Here, Gary's experience driving a 65-person schoolbus he had transformed into a home-on-wheels when he "dropped out" for a few years in the '60s stood him in good stead. He managed it...with only a brief but nasty exchange between the rear of the motorhome and the corner of the roof...in just under an hour. Two sumac trees and some juniper branches gave their all, however, before it was snuggled within plug-in distance of the house.
Lesson #1 in motorhome living: Consider where it will reside and how to get it there BEFORE bringing your new vehicle home.
Tomorrow: Too good to be true, but not too bad.
So Gary got on Craig's List to see what was out there in a more comfy size. We spent a couple of weeks checking out everything from used VW Eurovans ($20,000 and $30,000, respectively, for vehicles with 100,000 miles on 'em already, and they weren't much bigger than the Vanagon) to pickup trucks with over-cab campers ($4,500 or less, but often in bad shape). We drove to Nyssa to see a real motorhome (its 6' ceiling and Gary's 6' height weren't compatible) and test-drove a $15,000, 35-footer that was falling apart inside and out).
Wondering if we'd ever find a rig we a) liked b) could afford, we went back to a Craig's List item we had passed over earlier in the week, due to photos that showed what appeared to be a funky pink interior. The seller was able to meet us in Meridian one evening, but by the time we got there, it was too dark to test-drive it. What we saw made us perk up, though.
The "pink" couches and chairs turned out to be salmon-colored velvet, quite soft and luxurious. Instead of fake plywood, the numerous cupboards, closet doors and other appointments were oak and in nearly perfect condition. It was designed thoughtfully, with adequate storage and living space, queen and double beds and a generous-size bathroom that held not only a shower but a TUB and a three-panel mirror with make-up lights! Gary approved of the generator, propane and dual electrical system capabilities. I could see us whipping up meals in the small but well-laid-out kitchen with its 4-burner stove, good-sized refrigerator and freezer, and microwave. The tires weren't worn, the switches all worked. The exterior looked kinda like an Airstream painted dove gray. Best of all: The Class C, 27-foot 1984 LondonAire on a Ford Econoline van chassis powered by a Ford 460 engine cost only... $7,500! We wrote out a $500 check that night to hold it until we could test drive it the next morning.
After the test drive, we wrote out another check, and the vehicle was ours! Gary drove it home, I followed in our car. Nothing fell off the rig; the brakes appeared to work. And then came our first challenge: maneuvering it up our long, steep, narrow driveway to the parking area behind our Foothills house. Here, Gary's experience driving a 65-person schoolbus he had transformed into a home-on-wheels when he "dropped out" for a few years in the '60s stood him in good stead. He managed it...with only a brief but nasty exchange between the rear of the motorhome and the corner of the roof...in just under an hour. Two sumac trees and some juniper branches gave their all, however, before it was snuggled within plug-in distance of the house.
Lesson #1 in motorhome living: Consider where it will reside and how to get it there BEFORE bringing your new vehicle home.
Tomorrow: Too good to be true, but not too bad.
Monday, August 23, 2010
After 12 activity-packed years writing a column about Boiseans and the good things they do for each other, I'm taking a hiatus from the Statesman as I readjust priorities toward less work and more play. I want to thank all the incredible people who have told me their stories and all the readers who have kept me going with their attention and feedback. You've been wonderful! We'll be heading East in a few weeks for awhile, but please watch this blog (http://dronayne.blogspot.com/) for reports from the road! Today's step in that direction: A visit to AAA for maps.
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