Our Old Travco

Making Do

2010-11-02T20:53:00.000-07:00

Antsy to do something on Molly, but pressed as I have been by work, I thought I'd show some pictures. That's always easy and makes me feel like I'm working.

IT'S ALIVE!

Molly "roared" ("smoked" would be more like it) to life. She's getting out just in time, too; notice the mighty walnut tree she's been parked under. Thud. Thud. The sound of walnuts falling on Molly.

My passenger is Tristan, who's seven. He desperately wanted to ride to Molly's new home at the distillery (www.hardtimesdistillery), but I only had one seat bolted in.

Like this:

A closer shot will show the work I've done on the dash:

And even closer. Notice the new CD player. Molly only had a tape player. Getting the Blaupunkt to fit was an interesting project. I also removed all the gauges and polished the plate. And the wiring....oy.

Last winter the cap came off the reefer vent and in came the rain. I don't know if you can tell very well from this piss-poor image, but the wood I attached to the headliner the summer before is now mildewy and stained. I like the look of Airstreams and I've been considering covering the headliner with metal. Brushed, riveted, aluminum. (THAT would never stain, and it would be easier to install.)

So, Molly made it to Hard Times. Like our building? We'll paint it one day. After we can afford to.

This is our back yard. Yes, we have our own waterfall. (In the picture, Molly is to your left):

So...stepping back a little and looking left, you'll see something like this. (Note the lock on her "hood". I shopped a year for a replacement latch, but with no success. This is my solution. Works and looks interesting.)

Then, if you kept turning left, you'd probably see a version of still #1:

Curious, you'd step up onto the slab and walk inside, turn right and fill your eyes with--

Welcome to Hard Times.

This is Molly's new home. And it's a distillery. Somehow or other, if you think hard enough, everything eventually makes sense.

My shop. Molly Molly everywhere, but not an RV in sight.

Onward Molly!

2010-10-28T06:38:00.000-07:00

Chores. They define us. They pursue us. They tackle us and throw us to the ground. At the beginning of this recently-deceased summer I had a longish list of them. Chores. It was overwhelming. Especially when added to the fact I was still working on a new business startup (www.hardtimesdistillery.com). Gasp. You mean I still gotta paint the house and....and everything else?! At least it wasn't the whole house, only the west-facing side. But, still. And the garden...the yard. The boat... Had to get rid of that. Had to rebuild the trailer, and I'd been promising the boyos a treehouse forever...what else?

Oh, yeah. I had to move Molly.

It's been two years since she hit the road; what would it be like to drive her again? Would she even make it the eight miles that separated her from her new home at Hard Times in Monroe? It was time to find out. Before that damned walnut tree she was parked beneath started to shed.

It took a while to get her ready. First I had to find an RV battery I could afford. Check. Then I had to finish putting back together the decidedly un-together dash (this would require enlarging the old radio/tape player slot to accommodate the new/used Blaupunkt CD/radio I found on CL). Check. Stainless steel screws. Check. Fuses. Check. Bolt in a driver's seat. Check. Spruce the place up a little. Check. Turn key--

But wait.

What if the transmission decided to fail? Or the tires went flat or fell off? Or the fumes killed me before we got to Monroe?

Only one way to find out.

I turned the key. Molly fired right up. She smoked a little (a lot), and none of the lights worked, and the power steering squalled, and the speedo flapped up and down like a moth on benzedrine, and the brake pedal 's action redefined the meaning of sloppy--but so what; we got there (with Jenna trailing behind just in case, and about eighteen various cars and trucks trailing behind her...), didn't we?

Here we go...

(Yes, I do have the hatch cover.)
She's just different looking. Not boxy like what came in the 80s. She has a dreamy Airstreamy quality. I can't wait to paint her and add an expanded metal deck on top. Oh, and of course finish the interior. And have her engine looked at. Seriously looked at (check compression, look for leaks, replace all hoses and belts). I've given myself a year to finish her. The clock is ticking.

And so's this little guy's. He and his brother are two VERY important ticking reasons for finishing Molly. N'est-pas?

Next up: more of Molly in Monroe...

Falling Fast

2010-09-04T06:44:00.000-07:00

Of course I thought I'd be done by now. Two years? Not me. I'd get 'er done. I'd have my family on the road in 2010, lickety-split. Oh yes I would. What could stop me? Malaria? Rigor mortis? Last summer when I wrapped up I knew I'd be through by now. Now being the beginning of fall, 2010. And Molly continues to lurk behind the hedge next door. I had been bogged down by work. My partner, James, and I had started Hard Times Distillery. The place we landed in was a sty. It needed cleaning (the building had sat empty seven years and had formerly been a feed store), then remodeling. My tools traveled one day to work and never fully came back. In the meantime, Molly sat there. Lurking. Add the aesthetic insult of her back side being spraypainted by some High School hoods, and I began to lose steam, as well as heart. I looked out the window at her all winter, walnuts raining down, and poured martinis. Should I keep her? Should I move her to Hard Times (8 miles away) and work on her there? But I had no money. And there was so MUCH to do.

It took months, but when I finally opened her door and saw the wood ceiling I had so painstakingly installed covered with mold...I almost cried. How could this be? How could something like this happen? And to me? I ran back home and went online. In no time I had found someone on CraigsList who was looking for exactly what Molly was--a mid-70s fiberglass motorhome in need of completion. I composed an email and sent it.

I had decided to sell Molly.

I received an intriguing, well-written reply. The sender was willing to trade a fancy German woodstove, formerly installed on a boat, for Molly. I called him. We talked. I have no need of a fancy German woodstove, even if it was installed on a boat. When we were through talking, we each know we had met in the other a similar spirit. I acknowledged that I had been overwhelmed, succumbed to the cascade of minutiae that awaited me. I asked my new acquaintance to forgive me for wasting his time. I had decided to keep Molly, after all. And not just because I had spoken with a supportive, understanding soul, but because of this: my son, Tristan.

The day before I had asked him (I'm sure with a scowl on my face) what he thought of Molly. "Good," was his classic Tristan reply. "No," I said, "How do you feel about Molly?" He didn't miss a beat. "I love Molly, Dad." "How," drilling down on the subject, cutting to the chase, "would you feel if I got rid of her?" His face changed. "I would be sad, Dad." Over the winter we had given away our dog. We talked about doing it for a year. Jenna and I were becoming so busy, no one had time for her anymore. She needed more attention, longer walks. We found a young couple with plenty of space and who fell madly in love with her (our dog). Could I get rid of Molly the same way? Don't have time, too busy, mind's elsewhere--bye. Could I do that twice?

Of course not. So last week the boyos and I washed her (big-ish job for three small squirts). Then I bought a battery. Next I have to reassemble a few small details (like the steering wheel and gas pedal), then I'm going to get a trip ticket and move her to Monroe, Oregon (pop. 680) and park her out back of Hard Times Distillery. During those long distillation runs I'll get back to work on her. And I'm even glad she got tagged. Now I have to paint her. I've been thinking about that a lot...

Inside, Outside, Upside Down

2009-11-05T20:52:00.000-08:00

Rain beats against my office window signaling the end of fall, the beginning of winter. With the time change it's now dark at six and it won't be long before it'll be dark at four. It's always hard to adjust to, but it's easier to get the boys to bed than when it's still light at ten. Rain also serves another purpose: to put to test my drying-in of Molly.

The front sliders leak. But I found where and it was an easy fix. I had a small fright when I saw water dripping out from behind the new birch ceiling. What the--?! I'm sure you've been there. I scampered around trying to think what it could be when I remembered I had not tightened the AC completely. It was only finger tight. Maybe that was it! I ran to my shop for a wrench and back to Molly to tighten. The leak stopped. Hooray. All the other roof repairs have held nicely.

Molly is dry!

Here's her ceiling without the trim pieces:

This shot combines the ceiling with the finished wall. The wall panels are mahogany. Where the bottom left panel ends there will be a closet; also, a permanent seat will placed beneath the window. This area, by the way, used to be the galley.

Notice if you will the new windows. The long one on the wall was where the stove vent once was; you can see the other under the steering wheel.

Where the hanging closet will go. Why did I paint the vent stack red? Because I could.

The passenger side:

Let me tell you, curving 1/8 inch sheet material has its challenges. I used a lever made from two 2x4s with an old diaper taped on so as not to mar the wood. It worked beautifully. Basically the same trick I used to use to install drywall on ceilings when I worked solo.

I have been steadfastly ignoring the dirt on the dash, but I finally applied myself to it (a little bit).

Don't worry; I have the wiring all figured out.

Gingerly, I removed the face of the dash from around the speedo. It was broken in four places. With the application of some super glue and a squirt of Armor All, I was gladened to see this:

While doing the walls I've been keeping an eye on the area that will become the new galley. I had intended to leave the breaker box on the bulkhead, but something told me it would be better to move the damn thing. Dodge used 10 gauge wire, so I did too. I put it here, inside where the cabinet will be (it will have its own access panel).

I don't have the picture within easy reach, but there are two long panels that bracket the bathroom door. The bathroom door that used to have a mirror in it. One of the sheets of ply I bought kept telling me not to cut it yet, to save it for something special. That something special turned out to be this:

Nice figuring, eh? It will be a delight to the eyes. Remember, I'm approaching Molly as if she were a boat. To this end I purchased a marine alcohol stove.

It's simple, elegant, portable and made entirely of SS. The fuel is non-explosive and, seeing as how I own a distillery, I can get the alcohol for free.

Whadda deal.

I don't know how much more work will take place this winter. I'm getting very busy with the business, and of course there's always money. I would however like to get a leg up on the ceiling cabinets and the solar panel installed. I have enough material to complete one non-structural bulkhead and the hanging closet. Our (my) goal is to get Molly on the open road late next summer. Maybe in the fall. We want to get back to the Wallowa Mountains, as well as the John Day fossil beds. Eastern Oregon still holds a lot of surprise for us. We love it over there and can't wait to go back.

In Molly.

Good tidings to you all.

Sky's the Limit

2009-10-05T20:58:00.000-07:00

Winter is coming in and I have other irons in the fire so I'm trying to get as much done on Molly as I can. The wood for the walls and ceiling have been sitting waiting for weeks. It was time to get to work.

I had saved the old ceiling panels to use as templates. I was actually able to get the fit so tight I was able to use the old screw holes. I had to hand sand a few edges to make them pop in flat, but that made me feel like a cabinetmaker and that's always nice.

Most of the window and vent frames are painted now, and I'm excited to see how they'll look against the birch and mahogany.

Here I go...

Although I always mean to, I hardly ever have the camera handy when I need it. The above is actually the last panel I installed. I used a wedging tool made from two pieces of wood I could join together with screws to make different lengths (for the varying heights of the floors). Of course it was padded, and with best padding in the world--a diaper.

The wood almost wants to bend to the cab wall's radius. The first piece I installed I scored along the length where the bend would be, then wet it with really hot water. I didn't do all that on the second panel and experienced similar results. So enough with the scoring and wetting.

Here's a shot of the stern:

The panel on your right was my first. I followed the templates exactly and for the most part they were excellent guides. But for some reason they were cut a bit shy of where the windowtrim will go, resulting in a dodgey problem. When I ripped out the original headliner I discovered two wood brackets designed to hold a speaker. There were already wires leading to them. Why they weren't ever cut open and used I'll never know. Maybe it was considered an upgrade to have two speakers in the back of the bus. Who cares? Fact was, I wanted those speakers. You can see where their cables drop down.

And yes I know the wood doesn't reach all the way back. Funny thing, the front panels are about seven feet long, while the ceiling space in the back is longer than eight. The original panels were manufactured to fit. But sheet goods are standardized at 4 x 8, so there's a gap. But I'm not sweating it because I'm going to build a cabinet that will span the space above the window anyway.

With the newly painted vent trim:

So it's beginning to feel like things are moving along quickly. One thing flashed on me from my contractor days: you look at an open wall for weeks and weeks and think you know where everything is. But then the sheet rock goes on. Where the hell did everything go? I used to take lots of pictures, sometimes even elevations. In Molly all of a sudden I couldn't find the metal ribbing. So I thought about using my metal detector. But there's so much metal in Molly's frame that it was going crazy. So I had to trust the pencil marks I made for screws off the template. It was gravy after that.

Always after a rodent-free-smelling Molly, I decided to coat the deck with good old Kilz. Jenna says it smells neutral now. Another notch.

And finally, for Bob. I meant to take a picture last time but then forgot. Here it is now. I love the bracket. Looked them up: $75.00 I would have passed. Thanks to you I didn't have to.

I have four of the lights, two on either sides.

As we move deeper into fall I want to wish whoever is reading stays well and healthy. Wash hands wash hands wash hands. And have a happy fall.

Door of Perception

2009-09-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

Molly's door was in bad shape. The interior panel had peeled in places (water intrusion), and the frame's welds had broken in two places. After an embarrassing interlude spent applying bondo and JB Weld, it dawned on me that this was aluminum. Being aluminum, the surface was slippery and no amount of glue was gonna hold. It would need welding. Luckily, in the next town over, a small farming center, I located a fellow who said he could weld aluminum. I tossed the frame parts into my trailer and pedaled over. He took a look and said "Fifty dollars." That sounded fair to me. Now Molly's door frame is solid.

By the way, about the door molding you see coiled on the door. I saved a sample of the old, crumbling one and took it to Guaranty RV Parts Department here in town. The guy behind the counter wrinkled his nose and told me to wait. He disappeared into the back for a while, just long enough for my two boys to become restless. When he reappeared, he held this coil of self-adhering rubber molding. "I only have sixteen feet," he reported. Coincidentally, that was how much I needed. Things were looking good. I figured I'd spend $20 here, then go buy some hose and maybe a... "That'll be ninety-six dollars." NINETY-SIX DOLLARS?! For sixteen feet of rubber? But I was cool. Didn't ruffle a feather. I gave him the last of my money and carried the coil outside. On the sidewalk an older gent who had been behind me when in the store asked, "How do you feel?" I said the only word that made any sense: raped. He grinned. That probably cost them ten bucks. You're lucky you got out with both your children."

So, I had a vision...

...an Air Stream vision. What if I went bare metal and buffed it out? How would it look? If it didn't look good, it was just my time. So I drilled out the old rivets and...

...went to work.

Reassembled, and the window frame sprayed (I didn't stay with the red, but went green instead):

I was pleased. Here's the finished product:

And installed (with Eternabond and SS screws):

The frame and hinges were acid cleaned, wire brushed and painted metallic silver.

Molly is now officially dried in. I want to thank father-in-law Bob for the SS antenna base. It's installed, along with 14 LED lights. Winter rains, here we come!

One final shot of Molly's new batwing antenna:

Later!

End of Summer Summation

2009-08-23T20:39:00.000-07:00

I managed to do a little rattlecan on Molly last week. The front needed to be renewed. Of course, it makes the bumper looks worse. I'm looking for chrome rings for the amber lights.

Another view, and a reminder to fix the "hood."

The Dometic reefer cover is returned, attached with No. 8 inch-and-a-half SS screws into a new cedar frame. Looks likes she's wearing white dancing shoes.

The door frame came off in three pieces. This is me JB Welding them back together. After that, I stripped the paint and used steel wool to buff it out.

Walking home, I had the camera and, well, couldn't resist. If you look you'll see a new window between the first and second from the front. More about that later.

I've found new LED clearance lights and will have them on as soon as they arrive. I was also able to track down a water heater door (and possibly the WH itself). Thanks to Trish for that. I also spoke with Kevin, who sold me the AC: he has a crank-up antenna he's willing to part with for cheap. And I may have found some affordable PV panels. Can't afford solar now, but in the not too distant future...

I haven't been able to work much recently, and we're leaving next Thursday for four days with the inlaws. When we come back it will be September, and time to bear down on getting Molly rainproof.

That's all for now. May this find you well.

Winter is icummin in...

2009-08-16T19:34:00.000-07:00

So you see we're running out of time. Winter is around the corner, it's time to lay in firewood. The rains are coming and Molly needs to be buttoned up. To this end, I've shifted focus from the interior to the exterior. New stack vent cap; repaired reefer vent (even though there will be no refrigerator); new ceiling vent; new AC; the door is off and the rotted jamb replaced...here are some pictures:

Starting from the stern, Molly's facelift includes (besides rinse and perm): all screws replaced by SS; new tail plate light, and the spare gets primer.

At the other end, 23 feet away, the same thing: all new SS (I really dig stainless); the grille will be cleaned and the black repainted. The front plate had to be ground off. (Yes, that's the door and screen safely out of the way of wood chopping.)

Here you can see the new jamb (really, just a backboard. The other was rotted.) and the rust preventive. And the firewood. I can already feel a chill in the air.

Looking inside the door, you will one day encounter a hanging closet. Formerly the galley, the slot in the wall was for the stove fan. I'm going to straighten out the edges and make it a bit longer, then turn it into a window. Natural illumination for the closet. The bulkhead to the left will be sheathed with mahogany. (The glue is from the old plastic mirror that begged me to destroy it.)

I had no idea what it was but I was in a frenzy of replacing things, so I went out and found one that matched the original orange FRAM. The guy at CarQuest had no idea what it was for. He looked it up: air brake filter. Change every 5,000 miles. Done.

The forward side vents were trashed. Maybe I could find some one day, but would they match my color? (Ha!) Maybe I could have a pair fabricated, but could I afford to? (No!) So I thought about all the trucks I've seen that has a little window near the floor. I rushed out and bought some stick of aluminum L bracket, ripped it down to match the plexi's thickness, grabbed a hacksaw and some SS screws and made this:

Another view (ain't the white wheels pimp?):

Looking forward: this will be segregated sort of from the rest of the coach, thus permitting some privacy for the sleepers (2). There is a hatch in the center of the platform. The table will store beneath and mount in this area. Two benches will face one another and provide a "stateroom" feel:

View two:

As long as I'm standing inside the door, here's a wad of J B Weld (great stuff):

Lest I forget the new fuel pump (at least it's easy to access):

The rear "stateroom." The Master's cabin. And the Mistress. Let's not forget the Mistress.
Storage underneath:

Left will be the pantry/food prep area. Below is a shot of the three hatches allowing access to storage as well as the wiring harness, converter, water pump/heater, etc.

Structurally, Molly seems fine. When I'm finished in a couple weeks (?) there will be no leaks. Then I can get back to the inside. Since I can't afford solar panels right now, I'll pre-wire and wait. I have a vented area set aside for 4 batteries.

That's it for now. Thanks for visiting.

Molly at 109 (F)

2009-08-02T07:26:00.000-07:00

When it's this hot, work has to be done (if at all) first thing in the morning. Last week Judy, our friend and babysitter (nanny?) was here three days and enabled me to make some real progress.

Even though it doesn't look like it.

Here is the front "cabin" for sitting, hanging out, and sleeping the boys:

The platform also will provide more storage (as will one of the seats).

Next, the deluxe suite for jenna and me (and, of course, more and more storage):

A shot of what will become the galley (don't ask):

A few other details follow.

Removing boots from pedals and steering column (in the background is the new vent frame).

Water lines beginning to be replaced (must sanitize the tank):

The windows made operable!

Frame for sidewall vent:

I also sandblasted and painted the wheels:

Molly lurks in our back yard, waiting for more (note the new AC on her roof!):

I've purchased most of the interior and it waits patiently for me in the shop. The walls will be mahogany, the ceiling birch, the floors a mix of cork and rubber. Can't wait to get there...

The Answer is Still 42

2009-07-09T06:04:00.000-07:00

What is it about this Travco thing? They're heavy, expensive and drink gas like a three dollar whore. Mine especially. For one thing she's small. She strains my brain, making me come up with cleverer and cleverer ways to rehabilitate her. But I'm also starting a business, a micro-distillery (more about that at www.hardtimesdistillery.com) and it's quickly lessening the small amount of funds and time I have available. So why not just sell Molly and be done with it? This thought has often crossed my mind, but especially so last winter when she sat in the shop a dead, cold home for mice.

All that's changed now.

The sun is out, in a northwestern kind of way, and I feel re-energized in my desire to have my way with her. (Have you ever noticed the heavyhanded hint of sexuality men have in the ir relationship with machines?) To that end, I asked my next door neighbor if he would mind my parking Molly in his backyard for a few weeks. I was going to, and eventually still will, park her in our driveway. But first I want to get a jumpstart on the interior. I've removed the ceiling vents--in fact, all the vents. Lots of holes in Molly. I'm buying an AC for the front this Friday. After the vents are remounted, she'll be all dried-in for the winter (her center seam has been fiberglassed over). And hopefully her ceiling and walls will be (mostly) installed. Hopefully. Once we get the distillery up to speed, my time will be severely restricted. So strike now while I have dry days and a few remaining dollars.

Quick note: I borrowed a battery from my truck and crossed my fingers. Not having a front seat, I used a folding chair. Would she crank up? It's been nine months. I slid in the key, pumped the gas, and turned her on. It was thrilling to hear her turn over, and enormously satisfying to hear her start right up. (I had left one of my tool bags sitting on the shop floor. It was about three feet away from the exhaust just aft of the door. One side of it now sports a big black circle from the carbon that shot out of the pipe.) She works! She drives! She is worthy once again!

But I would have to keep it simple.

Sun-dappled beneath a spreading chestnut tree:

Bucolic, ain't it?

Inside, facing aft, looking up:

That swingin' wall paper is the bathroom door.

Same shot, not looking up, with a brilliant glare in your eyes:

Where formerly a kitchen stood:

That's one small step for man, one giant leap for Molly:

Onward! I wish you all a blissful, blister free summer.

Sparks Fly

2009-04-29T07:16:00.000-07:00

Sure, sparks are flying now. But for a while there...

The winter came and snow fell--along with plenty of what Tristan calls "sky water"--and nothing was done on Molly. I lost momentum. Things happened. The dog ate my homework. I even reached the place where I thought why not just spend five thousand and buy a MH ready to go?

So I set off to do just that.

I strapped in the boys and off we drove to Cottage Grove to look at a....piece of crap. And he wanted almost five thousand for it. I drove away disappointed. But being one nonadverse to adversity, on the drive back began thinking about that damned galley (faux kitchen) in Molly.

Molly.

If only I could get rid of the galley, there would be so much more room. And who needs a refrigerator anyway? They break down and are expensive to begin with. Hmmm. With those items out of the way--what about no stove/oven? We're camping, aren't we? Recently, I bought an induction stovetop and it works beautifully. And what if...

All that what-ifing lead to this:

As you can clearly see, with the old kitchen out of the way, a bottleneck was removed from the creative process. Now we could have this:

And this:
Molly would (will) become a pocket cruiser. Never stop thinking she's a boat. What's first? I think installing solar power, now that the ceiling panels are down and running wire is easy. Then some serious woodworking for a bit. A cork floor. New headliner. Some privacy curtains. And we're ready....to tackle the outside.

The Kindness of Strangers

2009-01-22T19:49:00.000-08:00

Nothing of any note has been accomplished on Molly in the last three weeks. It's not easy to want to work in her when the temps are in the twenties. Nicer by the fire. But idle hands and all that, so last weekend I saddled up and rode off to where I first laid eyes on Molly.

Ken, the gent who promoted her to us, has kindly offered me scavenger rights to an 80s RV on his property. He has no use for it, plans to cut it up after he sells the motor and running gear. He certainly has no need of the interior details--the very things I desperately desire. With this in mind, last Saturday around noon I loaded up some tools, packed a lunch, grabbed my smelly dog, and roared off in my trusty 1976 (same year as Molly) F-100, racing along twisty backroads at a wholloping forty-five miles an hour. As usual, I was mesmerized by the beauty of the landscape, and enjoyed the hour it took us--me and my smelly dog--to get there.

This is the rig Ken set me loose on:

As you can see, not in the best of shape. After a long inspection, I started with the seats. The original layout of Molly did not include a passenger seat. That's something I intend to change:

In the above picture, I've already loosened the 4 bolts holding the driver's seat. I took the passenger's seat as well. There were also all sorts of small-ish things I took: visor shades, reading lamps, curtain track and miscellaneous hardware. But it was the big ticket items that really excited me. Such as...

...a refrigerator!

...a hot water heater!

...an air conditioner/heater! (In fact, there are two of them.)

Do they work? That remains to be seen. I want them to work, of course. But if they don't...there's always Plan B.

Whatever that is.

At any rate, it got me out of the house, I had an opportunity to see Ken and his wife, take in the air, enjoy the solitude, and snatch me some bling.

Idle hands, and all that.

signed, Dudley Who-Needs-A-Hammer-I've-Got-A-Sawzall Clark.

What God Hath Rot...let no man put asander

2009-01-02T19:19:00.000-08:00

First job of the new year: clean out the stern section I so preposterously refer to as the "master stateroom." On a whim, I pulled up some loose appearing lino, only to find....

MORE ROT!

It's not too deep, but then neither am I, so there must be a cure. I shall allow it to dry out, then paint it with Kilz.

After that (actually, now that I think about it, before that), I removed the inverter (it was attached to the last remaining piece of the former lower bunks). This I will have to reposition after the bed frame is installed.

You can see some of the orbital sander patterns on the walls. I ran out of sandpaper, then my Bosch sander stopped. It simply stopped. I have no sander. It makes no sense to clean the coach before sanding, so for the time being I'm dead in the water.

Sigh.

Nevertheless, I did manage, whilst I had both sander and sandpaper, to do this (pardon the dust spots):

And this:

Looks good, eh?

As to the galley...it was only a matter of time before I removed the base cabinets. I did this in order to facilitate installing new paneling (yeah, right), as well as to clean out 30+ years of grime.

And that's it here at pun central, this second or third (I'm already lost, Lord help me) day of the year 2009. Thanks to all of you who have restrained your derision and even at times shown support for this insane Werner Herzog-like project. The odds may be impossible, but sometimes there's a man... But that's another movie.

Impossibler and Impossibler

2008-12-30T20:10:00.000-08:00

Somebody stop me! Is there some kind of Travco Twelve-Step Program? Please, at least take my flat bar and screwgun away!

Luckily (?), I'm running out of things to take apart (or down).

This is the way I left the rear sleeping cabin the other day.

I decided to take out all the old 3/4 tops...

...and got a closer look at the rear wiring.

Thanks to the former owner, Bill, who was generous enough with his time to stop by the other day, many of my lingering questions were finally answered, and more of Molly's dark past unveiled. (Thanks, Bill, for the detailed information about the inverter!)

I finally decided to remove the other half of the front cab's ceiling. At first, I partially detached the hanging cabinets, then sliced with a razor knife just along the inside of the cab frame. Then down came the drooping, waterlogged headliner.

You can see inside the cabs where the old headliner remains (it's not there anymore, you'll see). The reason the AC pigtail doesn't work...well, it's not connected. The water did some loosening of the wood retaining frame (you can see the void above where it used to reside). All the metal will get sprayed with a rust inhibitor before being recovered.

This is what I was left with... I figured painting in place would be facilitated by the removal of the hood fan, so...out that came.

Also out came the burned plywood. This is the heater (plywood removed). Bill assured me it's like new and works perfectly.

Being who and how I am, I dislike fake raised panel drawers, so off with them!

Then I thought how much easier it would be to reapply the headliner if the cabs were gone.

The cabs...gone. Pipe chase in the corner and plastic mirror. I'm thinking about losing the mirror.

The way it look as I write...man. What have I done?

What thu? How did this get in here? That's Tristan (5) preparing duck eggs for his and his brother Chance's breakfast.

(He's not really that tall. He's standing on something.)

For the next few days I have lots of time to spend inside Molly. What will I rip out next?

On the Eve of Construction

2008-12-24T21:23:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve, 2008.

One day, that will sound like a long time ago.

I swear that in January I will begin to reverse the current process of demolish and discovery...but first there are a couple of things that need looking into.

One is the wood. Since I planned on painting it anyway, what would be the harm of sanding a bit first, right? Give the wood some tooth, loosen the loose stuff even more...when lo and behold there arose such a clatter--no wait, that's from something else--there arose from the dust some pretty nice-looking figuring. (Trust me, not the camera.)

So that made me wonder what the other panels looked like (under their heavy stain). I came up with:

Not too shabby (at least shabby chic). So now the thought is to lay bare the panels you see (along with the potty door's stiles and rails), while shooting the casework green (along with the kitchen). The drawers and doors will all be birch.

With that out of the way I turn to the cabinet between the bunkbeds. The top is bunged and plastic vintage 70s wood (i.e., ugly), so I removed it. The back and sides of the cabinet where they touched the floor were waterlogged and curled:

And it stank. This should be the last of the musty stuff. The cabinet, I decided in a flash, is forever gone. Now, to my delight, all of the rear-end wiring is exposed.

If you look closely, you can see water stains where the window gasket has leaked in the past. Bingo! I was worried about that leak. Now that it's found, it can be fixed. Next, a thought occurred as I lay athwart the two bunkbed boxes: neither my head nor feet touched a wall (unlike in the shorter bunks)! Eureka. I would build a berth athwart the bus and cushion it with an inexpensive futon, rather than pay $700 to reupholster the bunkbed foam. This would also provide us with less floorspace to recover, and more room for storage (not to mention access to the wiring). Win/win, right?

Then I finally got around to pulling all the rotted wood from the first step. Ugly, yes, but I know a good welder.

Afterwards I chopped some wood and took a nap with the boys. Now the Christmas tree is dressed and ladened with packages and, as I type, Jenna is next door in her office wrapping and wrapping and wrapping my gifts. And I guess a few for the boys. Our sitter is coming back Friday, Boxing Day, and that's when I'll be knocking about inside Molly again, trying to figure out what to do about that headliner problem (I mean opportunity)...

Have a great, sane, reasonably stress-free Christmas, to those one or two who are reading, as well as to all the rest.

Peace, y'all.

Reefer Madness: Or, How I Stopped Worrying About the Ceiling and Tore it Out

2008-12-19T19:47:00.000-08:00

The reefer came out a few days ago. It was gut-rusted with most of its controls gone. The thought of running gas through it was terrifying. Of course, the screws affixing it to Molly rounded over and had to be drilled out. Then out it slipped. Not too heavy, either. It now rests atop the growing, now snow-covered, pile of Molly's innards. Snow has a way of making it all look pretty.

These are wall panels from the dinette area. They will later serve as templates. It's very important not to lose or abuse any of the connecting plastic strips as they are virtually irreplaceable. But where the heck to put them?

Airstream, baby! First thought when I uncovered this was--polish it! What would this look like if I buffed it out and kept the little piece of un-walked-upon green shag detail at the bottom (a sort of memento of the seventies)? Just a thought. Definitely, the door needs to come off and the hinge sand blasted and repainted.

Bunks are out! All four beds ended up on top of Molly, away from walking areas and, hopefully, mice.

I'm thinking now of just removing these wallpapered panels and replacing with birch ply. Make the cabin feel a little warmer.

Uh-oh. Can you believe this? On an otherwise perfect vessel, too. Good thing I'm a plumber (as well as a brain surgeon).

Looks like this top will have to be replaced. As Jenna put it so succinctly, "Where's the water coming from?" Women.

Out with the bad shag... This is the bay that would have held the generator but now holds an extra fuel tank instead. This is fine with me. After the re-hab, I want to install a solar panel system for powering inessentials when parked.

The inverter hums along... In order to remove this section of carpet, the inverter and all its cables will have to be removed. Don't rush me, I'll get there.

I knew it was coming. The water damage was bad enough to warrant a peek to see what collateral damage may have resulted. Just some rust, what I like to call oxidation. Nothing serious. Now I know where the ribs are located. I intend to replace the panel with birch.

No longer a ceiling, transformed into a template. I love templates.

And the truth shall set you free.

Lousy with wires and ancient foam, but profoundly simpler than the coaches built today. And today's coaches are nowhere as solidly made.

The dinette area. I've figured out the square footage for the flooring. Now we just have to rob a bank. Or a convenience store.

If you squint, it looks like a seventies reel-to-reel, but in reality it's the control panel. Yes, that's right. This is the heart of the machine that is Molly.

I was reflecting last night on how the designers were hell-bent on making the kitchen look like the one at home. At lot of wasted space. Do we really need an oven? Look at the burned spot (see below). There is no microwave, of course. We don't use microwaves at home, but one might be good on board. And do we need a double-welled sink? (Especially one that was held down by ten screws and half a tube of caulk.) I have time to ask these questions. Molly is small (diminutive), and whatever I can do to create the effect of roominess, I should seriously consider doing. My problem (among many) is that my woodworking space is completely filled with Molly. So where to build more cabinets (if that's what I decide to do)? Not one for doing things half-way, as long as she's stripped out like this, I might as well get as much done as I possibly can.

Yikes!

The weekend is upon us, and we still haven't started up Christmas here at rancho Elsewhere. Today I'll get a tree. Have to do some shopping, too. Nothing frantic. We're into small Christmasses. Sunday we take the boys to see the Nutcracker. Hopefully, I'll be back out in Molly at some point. When I do, I'll set about stowing away all the newly-loosened parts, take out all the crappy baseboards, and start the overall, deep cleaning. Already, when Jenna comes to inspect, she wrinkles her nose less. The mildew-y smell is mostly residing out back in the pile behind our shop. A deep cleaning will eliminate the rest. Then we'll decide on a color for the woodwork. Up to now, all my efforts have been focused on demo. Next up is prep. In January, the real work begins. (When Jenna inspects, she says things like "I'm really impressed that you're not overwhelmed by this project." Hey, I know when to keep my mouth shut.)

Ship to Shore

2008-12-16T19:11:00.000-08:00

I removed the battery today (it belongs to Ken, the gent we got Molly from), and plugged in the inverter--voila! we're on shore power. Very cool. Mostly, though, I spent my three hours inside Molly cleaning. I was able to remove the shag from the doghouse in one piece, which means I now have a template. I scraped up/off an enormous amount of ancient carpet pad (had to empty the Fein shop vac, and that's saying something). Then on to the staples. Rusted, dangerous (first blood in Molly), I either pulled or pounded them into submission. Then more vacuuming. Then out with the Milwaukee hole shooter and an appropriate bit to remove those screws that rounded over and refused the urging of my screwdriver. Next up: the reefer. I removed the door and whatever screws that seemed to be holding it in place and--nothing. Wouldn't budge. I have to remove the copper line, of course, but that won't be the thing that's holding it in place. There's another, larger reefer Ken has assured me I can scavenge off an old Winnie, so this one goes in the growing pile out back of the shop. With all the panels and odds and ends and bits and pieces removed (and bagged), and the place vacuumed, it's beginning to feel "under control."

But I've managed to fool myself before.

Thanks and a tip of the hat to father-in-law Bob for the image above. Yes, it's cold in Molly, but Bob brought down a sweet little heater that does the trick very nicely. Why, no more than an hour after I turn it on my gloves are off. But not the coat. (No, that's not the coat I wear when I'm working.) He also brought down an odd-looking beast with no on/off switch that he swears is a dehumidifier. Haven't had a chance to use it yet. Thanks again, Bob.

Believe it or not, I'll have a couple hours tomorrow afternoon. Damn the refrigerator, full speed ahead!

Dead Birds are Good Omens, Right?

2008-12-15T19:19:00.000-08:00

Our first snow fall! We canceled a doctor's appointment way over in Eugene, and had a snow day, or at least a snow morning. After a weekend of entertaining family, I was ready for a little Molly. So while Jenna took a nap with Chance, Tristan and I set to work ripping green shag and raising clouds of what I hope was not carcinogenic dust. (The original rubber carpet underlayment has become brittle and crumbles into a crystallized cloud of black sand.)

Nice.

Let's start on the outside. I removed the hatch/vent to the reefer and discovered...more rot:

What's holding this bus together, anyway? It's just a wood frame, but boy is it wasted.

Meanwhile, back on the inside...

Unveiling the heart of the beast:

On the hunt for more rot. This is the passenger side:

And this (I don't know if you can distinguish the rust on the metal rib):

And for every foot of carpet that comes up, there are dozens of staples to be pulled. Thankfully, I have an indentured helper. (Actually, I'm thrilled to have a five year-old who actually wants to help!) At least, for a little while.

Now I can get under the dash:

Here's the driver's side (more rot and rust):

Apparently, the name Travco is not synonymous with Stainless:

And, finally, about that dead bird...

What if I hadn't decided to bring Molly into the 21st Century with a CD player? I would never have known.

Tomorrow we have a lass coming over to hang with the kiddos whilst I continue demolishing Molly, so stay tuned.

To My Prying Eyes' Surprise

2008-12-07T19:32:00.000-08:00

'Twas some weeks before Christmas and all through the house not a sound was occurring, not even the scurrying of a mouse (or in our case mice); in fact, it was a Sunday pm and naptime to boot, so out to old Molly I did myself scoot.

Ouch. Enough of that.

I grab time whenever I can, and this time I thought I'd start ripping off the green shag carpet. It was a mess, but went fairly quickly, resulting in this:

and this:

I was not expecting to find another leak, but another leak I did find. Hooray!

Next, I went to town on the first step. It's always been soggy and saggy, and I wanted to find out why. Now I know.

A new plate will have to be welded under the old one, then playwood applied, then whatever surface material we settle on. No big deal. As Jenna likes to say, at least we didn't pay for it (i.e., Molly).

Speaking of Jenna, this is the woman behind the man behind the blog about the motorhome named Molly:

That's Chance (or, as I like to call him, Fat Chance) peering about for more things to put in his mouth. And, while we're at it, here's the rest of the crew:

From the Christmas parade (obviously). That's Tristan on the left. Guy on the right, never did get his name.

Blaise, my up-and-coming Rawk Star. (Johnny Depp, move over.)

Next up: demo the rest of the shag; bag up screws; start cleaning up the wiring; in fact, start cleaning up altogether. Next weekend will be the First Inspection by father-in-law Bob. Gotta make a good showing.

Now where did I put that broom...

Destructive Logic

2008-12-03T19:10:00.000-08:00

Children are wonderful, they really are. As proof of this assertion, I have five of my own (not that they're actually mine). But however wonderful they may be, they can really slow you down. I have not, in the last week, been able to spent more than five minutes with Molly. It finally reached the point where we hired a babysitter to come by one afternoon a week, so I could spent some time inside her. Molly. Inside Molly. What's the matter with you?

So today, having spent an entire two hours crawling on my knees, unscrewing, unbolting, pulling back, yanking up and cursing, I finally have a report:

After cleaning up the shop a bit, I managed to locate the shorepower cable. I turned off the circuit breakers and plugged Molly into the grid...nothing. I know I'm missing something (yes, I turned the breakers back on), but I'm not worried. Maybe the inverter is unplugged. Maybe the grid is.

Being cleaned didn't last long--now the shop is chock-a-block with Molly's guts. I removed the dinette seats and their bases, along with the driver's seat. I also managed to find lots of rot around the door. Who knows how long the door's been leaking. Long enough, but soon no more.

When I set out on this little adventure, I held as my guiding principle the ideal of restoration over renovation. Now I've changed my mind. Our little gal needs to look roomier inside. So the dinette has to go. Why? Was I driven to this conclusion by agonizing aesthetic concerns? By a deeply held philosophical position? Yes, if by that you mean money. Do you have any idea what foam bedding costs these days? Just one--one--bed costs $350. That's right. $350. And that's without fabric or labor to make that fabric fit. I figure reupholstering the dinette might run as high as $1,100! So yes, deeply held aesthetic concerns.

It helps that the rather complicated hinges are all shot.

Earlier in the week, when I was unzipping the covers off the existing foam (in the hope that the old stuff was virginal and perfect-looking after 32 years), I discovered where water intrusion has rotted out a corner of one of the bed frames. It's an easy fix, just something to add to the list.

It's all about aesthetics...and money.

The tally so far: the green shag carpet has to go. Not that I don't love green shag, but it's far too soiled, sun-bleached and ugly to keep. New wallpaper. Cork flooring (won't need much). Oh, and the reefer is shot. (And I haven't even got into the head, although it's been getting into mine). What else? New carpet for the driving area (or perhaps heavy rubber matting). And I'm thinking about a second captain's seat. Last week I responded to an ad on Craigslist announcing the sale of a 1971 Travco in Eugene. Actually, I had responded to the same ad several times weeks and weeks before, but to no avail. No one ever answered. Finally, in desperation, I put an ad of my own up asking the owner to call. When he did, he told me he had received all my emails, but had visited my website and found I was formerly an assassin. That scared him. I tried to explain to him that I write comedy, and that I'm as much an ex-assassin as I am an ex-porn star. He relaxed a bit and accepted that I was telling the truth.

Besides, I wasn't really ever a star.

Anyway, my next job will be the removal of all things shaggy and green. Last night we all went down to see the small-town Christmas parade we go to every year--girls on their horses, lots of six-figure, cherry-red tractors, Boy Scouts marching in ragged array, thrown candy, and RVs decorated with lights. I told the boys that, with any luck, this time next year they'll be in the parade, too--inside Molly.

The pressure's on.

Velkommen!

Whadda mess...

Out with the old dinette...

Now we have room to dance.

What rotting luck!

The driver's seat removed...

Cool. I found the lighter. Something to fill the lighter (these days power) hole with. And a cassette tape. Can't wait to hear what it is.

Now, how did this get in here?

Weekend Worrier

2008-11-22T17:22:00.000-08:00

Another weekend, another dent in the project. Out came the drawers and doors, up came the carpet. Like a kid, I raced through Molly looking for treasures. And I found them, too. Loads of receipts (pieced together, they tell a story), maps and magazines (National Geographics), a fire extinguisher (NIB), as well as a fuel pump (also NIB with an $80 price tag); new windshield wipers (why didn't I look before the arduous, rainy drive home?); tire chains (now we can go anywhere!), along with boxes of spare fuel filters, cans of oil, a grease gun, a jack, a big bicycle tire pump, belts, and the original plaque with the owner's name (among other things).

Still getting oriented. I'll have Carol and Henry (professional upholsters) come by maybe this weekend to look at the seats and beds. Once they're pulled, I can start cleaning and making lists.

Here's the damage so far:

Carpet is pulled and stored for future use as a template (if we decide to use carpet again).

Not my bad (luck). I'm just cleaning up...

Happy Molidays!

2008-11-16T19:22:00.001-08:00

We have decreed today a holiday--a moliday!

We're celebrating because Molly fits inside the shop. It's tight, but manageable. I can access three sides easily, as well as open her door--and reach the firewood bin. And I can still use the shop's woodstove. But mostly I'll be working on the inside. First things first--a bug bomb. Then the cabinet doors come off. The carpets come out. Cushions. Once she's gutted, I can start cleaning. With a toothbrush. From one end to the other. That's when I also start making lists. Lots of lists.

And, hopefully, priorities.

My river floating friend (and printing mentor), Mike Faris, stopped by with his camera and gave a hand. With Mike behind, guiding me by walkie-talkie, I was able to slip Molly right inside her new lodgings. I tied a line to the top of the bay door, then tied that to the refrigerator/toolchest--the bay door sags an inch or two past its frame. Mike estimated we had about a quarter of inch to spare on the top. We were in. Gentlemen, you know the feeling. I jumped out and sprinted about moving tools to make room. Tristan was doing a marvelous job of not talking. Unfortunately, in my excitement, I forgot to lower the CB antenna--and snapped off part of its bracket. An important part, too. The part that keeps the antenna from falling off.

Oh, well. That can be replaced.

The following images are thanks to the camera of Mike Faris.

Hail the mighty daredevils!

A little father and son time, Travco style.

Here we go...(will she fit?)

Barely.

The antenna has been color enhanced for your viewing pleasure.

Heigh-ho! Life is great when you're five.

The End.

Stay tuned for more exciting adventures as dudleyclark and his extremely young children tackle the job of restoring a thirty year old Travco named Molly. (What will they think of next?)

2008-11-16T19:22:00.000-08:00

Molly No Longer Unsightly

2008-11-09T20:29:00.000-08:00

Presto...

Change-0!

Molly Go Whitely

2008-11-09T20:07:00.001-08:00

There's a limit to the number of pics I can upload for each posting. So here are some more:

Molly Go Brightly

2008-11-09T19:30:00.000-08:00

Wash Day. She has to change her look immediately. She has to know that somebody cares. And if you care, you jump on. Truth is, I'm as excited as a kid at Christmas.

In line with one of the premises of this blog, I'm going to shut up. Sort of.

The Captain's chair.
It appears Hunny has found her little niche.

Dig the crazy wallpaper. Where do I get more of that?

At dinner, Tristan said Molly was going to teach him how to play soccer.

Just like on a boat. Molly is our playtub.

Not the ideal sleeping arrangement. I've thought of creating a different layout....but I'm the sort who's drawn more towards restoring than to rebuilding. So the layout stays. As for the upholstery...

Le bon temp rouler!

2008-11-09T06:47:00.000-08:00

Today I hit the trifecta: we drove the Travco (Molly) home, my son Blaise turned ten, and my father died.

Molly as in The Unsinkable Molly Brown.

Saturday was another gorgeous day in Oregon. The first storm hit, bringing winds and rain. What colors jangled on trees last weekend this weekend carpeted the ground. We drove to Lorane the long way and lunched at the little cafe. Blaise was given a giant cupcake with a candle by the owner. It feels very comfortable being there, especially when outside is driving rain. (There were two grim-looking, obviously very dedicated, thoroughly soaked bicycle riders sitting there when we arrived.)

Ken and his wife, Barbara, were very welcoming. It was good to see Ken again. I think it safely can be said we got more than a motorhome out of this deal. The motorhome: there she sat wearing a what-took-you-so-long expression on her face (if a motorhome can be said to have a face). It was Blaise's first time seeing her. Blaise was our documentarian. He drove back with me in the Travco. The filthy beast. A wasp at one point lazed on the video camera as it rested on the seat, during which period very little documentation occurred. He thought the ride back was cool. And it was. But not nearly so cool as having a ten year-old named Blaise.

The fuel pump didn't work. Jenna had earlier expressed her suspicion it wouldn't. I believed that it would. I believed that there would be absolutely no problems. I do that sometimes. A 1976 Travco....no problems. Sad. I think all the rain softened my head. After Ken replaced the fuel pump with one out of a Toyota, it was discovered that all that new gas line I installed a few weekends back was connected to the wrong tube. (Gasoline pumped into space. How much did we lose? I had only brought 2 five gallon cans. Could we make it home with what was left?)

Excitement! Drama!

Ken had kindly cleaned the windshield wipers (not that it really helped all that much) and checked Molly's bodily fluids. When she first started up, the coach filled with smoke. Condensation. Steam. Finally, warmed up, her engine cover back on, I climbed behind the wheel. The tilting wheel. My head about eight feet off the ground. Rain chattering against the roof, I depressed the pedal and...well, we drove home, at times perilously close to the shoulder of the road. Obviously, we had enough gas. I dropped Blaise off at the house and he had the camera rolling when, after going around the block, I drove Molly into her new moorage.

And to top everything, I received a call that very evening from Bill, the former owner (one of them, I haven't sorted them all out yet) and we had a great little (insert baby screaming in background) talk about (what else) the Travco. I had to cut and run, get back to being daddy, but I invited him to come over sometime (he lives nearby) and reminisce.

Today, Sunday, I'll steal some time and start washing away the green streaks and moss. Right now Tristan is at my arm pleading for attention, so I gots to run.

And as for my father dying? Well, that's another horse altogether.

'Twas A Sterling Day Athwart the World

2008-11-01T20:09:00.000-07:00

The idea was (there's always an idea) we'd go to Ken's and I would wash the coach whilst the family roamed the land primeval. It is a bit of a drive, and seemed pointless to me to make the trek without the goal of accomplishing something. You know? But that's exactly what we managed to do. We drove there, had lunch at the little cafe, I showed Jenna Ken's old house and we walked the property (of course, she loved it) and then, after a short one-on-one with the Travco (made sure she was dry inside), we drove home. We won't go into how, later on, our son, Tristan, ate too much candy (he sneaked some) and threw up. Or how tired old me had to put shelving up at the school. What would be the point?

The following shots came from last weekend when I was working under the coach's belly.

Letter to Bob

2008-10-31T06:15:00.001-07:00

Following is an extract from an email I sent my father-in-law last week:

The restoration of the Travco (we need a better name) has begun. Lorane Valley is about 40 miles south of here, a beautiful place. Yesterday I drove there alone (third trip) and spent 4 hours rolling around under the belly of the Dodge beast. In that time, I managed (of course, with Ken's help) to install a new master cylinder and bleed the brakes, and run two new gas lines (and one new filter). The main tank was bone dry, but I bled over 15 gallons from the aux. What didn't get on me was mixed with oil and will be burned in Ken's stove this winter. Score one for Ken. (Ken is a retired mechanic with not one but two shops on his property--an auto and a wood shop. He has also kindly offered me the opportunity to cannibalize an 80s Winnebago he's getting rid of. This means a new driver's seat, hot water heater, hinges, lights, curtains, whatever. Score one for the Clark/Wheeler Enterprise.) The gent who really owned the bus (Ken is serving as his go-between) is a guy named Bill. Bill owned it over 20 years, and will be sitting down with me (by phone) next week to tell me all he knows. What Ken knows is that Bill's a stickler for detail, and loves to overbuild. Outwardly, she may not be a head turner (yet), but underneath... Bill had not one but three fuel filters (I reduced that back down to one, since 2 of the filters were installed between tanks and fuel pump, adding not only a redundancy but another hurdle for the gas to get to the carb). And the Monroe shocks are about the biggest I've ever seen. He had brackets welded on to support them. Custom front grill. Air cooler for the tranny (they used to drive from here to San Diego non-stop, cruising at 80 mph). Anti-sway bars. Apparently, a lot of money was spent on the exhaust system, too. You should see the muffler on this thing. Remember, it's a 440 and the sheer size of the engine intimidates the hell out've me (although it's placement makes it extremely accessible). I'm a woodworker for Christ's sake! But it was kept up over the years by mechanics (Bill, BTW, is NOT one and knows it.) It was used by their car racing club (Ken swears it has slept up to 10 guys, with two on the floor), and most of those guys were mechanics of one stripe or another, so, overall, the bus has been intelligently and knowingly maintained. Everything points to this being one of those once-in-a-lifetime deals for us. And, as for Ken, it helps him clear off his property.

Everybody's happy.

This extensive report comes as response to your concerns about the bus's safety. The things we knew before: she runs, she has decent tires, most on-board systems work (or not); she could use a new fridge (and flooring and upholstery....). The things we know now: her brakes work; her fuel lines are new; she's been overbuilt (this rig is HEAVY, with steel-ribbed construction) and well maintained. The LP system will, when the time comes, be gone over by an expert. That leaves a general makeover for me. And she actually fits into the shop! (By 3 inches on top.)