When I went in to work on Wednesday night, the 5th, I asked for Thursday night off. Got it! Time to move back to my original space at the RV Park and I finally had the means to do it. I was way past ready. The space I was moving out of was noisy as hell – day time people. Kee-rist! I was feeling relatively cocky because I knew I could unhook, hitch up, and move by myself and in a strange sort of way, I was looking forward to it. Besides…I need the practice. But I did call my son and tell him he might need to be ready with the jack…just in case those damn motors didn’t work. Premonition? Perhaps.

I got out of work early on Wednesday also. I was running on empty on the ‘sleep gauge’ and figured to sleep a few hours before I started the day of moving. That’s exactly what I did – sleep a few hours – damn few. Doink! My eyes popped open at 3 AM. A few chores, breakfast, and I started the process of unhooking, following a mental check list of items that needed to be done and in an order that made them easier than my first few attempts. An example: Pull in the slides first, then unhook all the lines, that way I’m not crawling around underneath an overhang and risking head bonks and shoulder bumps on hard overhead objects that just won’t give. See…I am trainable.

I had everything buttoned up by 9 AM and the Steed backed up to the hitch. Time to test the motors. One of them started clacking immediately. I didn’t even go into frenzy mode. For some reason, it was as if I knew ahead of time that it was going to happen. I called Wheeler RV and asked to speak to Mark Gilmore, Service Manager. He was on the line with another customer, the receptionist asked if he could call me back. “Yes! It’s an emergency…”

I called my son, asking what his schedule was like and if he would head my way…just in case. He would. Another factor in this whole equation was that I had promised the RV Management that I would be moved by the end of day on Thursday. I waited about 15 minutes and called Wheeler again. Mark was still busy. I asked to speak to the General Manager (I was completely amazed to hear that Ben Beck was gone, kaput, finished at Wheeler. He was the person I worked with on my last trip to their shop), I was routed to Don. I spent a few minutes explaining my previous history with Wheeler/Newmar and the problem with the jack motors. Don promised to get right with Mark and get back to me. As soon as we finished the conversation, Mark called, with a promise that he would come to the RV Park and see what he could do. All of this was a little startling as my previous contacts with Wheeler were all based on the fact that I had to find someone that would travel to the coach and go through the headache of paying them, waiting to be reimbursed by Newmar, and now Wheeler was going to jump right out and lend hand. WOO HOO!

I just hung out…nowhere to go…nothing in particular to do…I wasn’t moving. My son arrived at 11ish. I called Wheeler again at noon, Mark had gone to lunch. WTF??? I don’t care if he eats but I was already on hold for the last three hours…eat in the damn car like I do. (Single people are too weird aren’t they – eat over the sink, while driving, walking around the house, in front of the fridge – and keep in mind if you’re eating while you’re standing, crumbs won’t fall in your lap).

Darian jacked up the front of the coach, I managed to hitch up, and bade him a good day as he had a lot of things to do. He asked what/how I was going to accomplish moving without being able to use the jacks. My only thought, and reply, was that I would pull to the original space, pull in, level up, and prepare to unhitch. If the jacks failed to extend, I would sit impatiently and wait for Mark. If the jacks did extend, I would still wait for Mark because this had to be resolved…and damn soon.

Darian left, I pulled into the original space, did level up side to side, pushed the button on the jack motors…I’ve heard this sickening song before, ‘Clack-clack-clack’. Pfhhhttt! At 2:15, I called Wheeler again. Mark was enroute. He arrived in – none other than – a Black Steed. Identical to my baby – only black. He did a cheery, “Good afternoon, Ms. Geenen. How are you?”

I started laughing, “I had the thought a few minutes ago that you never see me at my best. I’m always dressed like this,” I waved at my flannel shirt, hair tied back with a bandana, tennies, and slouch pants. “And everything’s fucked up.”

He either fakes a great laugh or he had a good time with it. We spent about thirty minutes messing with the retract and extend feature of the motors. They were not working at the same speed for one thing. And one of them just couldn’t handle the load. Mark said they had had a problem with another fifth wheel that had dual motors on the jacks and he thought mine had the same problem. The jack itself was bad. Obviously he was in no position to jump in and tackle the problem so I offered to be at Wheeler early on Friday and leave the coach for the day. Done deal.

Mark left. I backed up into the space – the length of the coach and truck is an almost exact fit in the space. My butt was dragging. It was close to 6 PM by the time I finished a few phone calls. I’d been out in the wind and heat (yes Vegas is warming up), stressed out, very little sleep, and I knew I’d never make Friday at work. I called in and asked to be excused. Thank you, Jason! I hit the shower, and sent motostat into search mode. CRAP! It couldn’t find a signal. I sent a phone call to Ashley at Satellite World…of course they were closed. I left a message. He called me back within 15 minutes. He had me ‘calibrate’ the dish, and a few other things. We got off the phone – still no luck – with the promise that he would come tomorrow to check it all out. The only flaw was that I was going to be at Wheeler. Load up the drear – double scoops – better yet, get a bucket of drear. Now it was 9 PM. I went to the shower and to bed…no Internet. *sob – sniff – alligator tears*

Sleep wasn’t long – too many little rushing spurts of energy slamming into my think tank. Before 3 AM, I was up, putting the finishing touches on heading out, and I was on the highway by 4:30 AM. This puts me back to where I was before all of the ‘backtrack’ and ‘fast forward’ segments. One of the reasons I really wasn’t irritated or angry at Wheeler – this time – was because they genuinely made an effort to make sure things worked as they should and didn’t put me on a list somewhere. Their gates opened around 7 AM and I was at their Service Door by 7:15. No one available until 7:30. I strolled and looked at new motor homes, 5th wheels, and an assortment of RVs. When I came back around a corner, Mark was already writing up my service paper, waiting for me. Nice!

I said, “The real RV’ing adventure is getting out of town.”

He smiled and said, “You’re right.”

I replied, “Mark, there’s a pun in there somewhere.” I didn’t want to add, “I CAN’T GET OUT OF TOWN!”

I left him with the words, “I know you hear this from everyone, but I’m homeless now. I have nowhere to go.”

Pretty damn funny as I stop and think about it. He helped me unhitch, I drove away – with a promise from him that they would get it straightened out and he would call me. Kee-rist! I forgot to hand him the keys. I had already made it back to Vegas before it registered. Return trip…boo hoo! After dropping off the key, breakfast with my nephew Chad and great nephew, Eric, I drove up to Hyman Place. Dragging a blanket in with me, I managed to doze off and on for an hour or so. Crap – sleeping on the floor sucks. I called Mark back at 3 PM. The coach was ready to go. Back out to Wheeler – have I ever mentioned how I understand road rage now that I’ve been out on the streets in the day time traffic?

Apparently the problem with the jacks is the weight of the coach, a problem that Newmar needs to address. The drive pin was sheared off and don’t ask me why/where/what. Hell if I know. Mark said it will happen again. He was leaving my file open and will call Newmar on Monday and tell them they have to come up with a solution.

I said, “Yes, or they need to put me on warranty for life, pick up all my hotel, fuel, and food bills, and pay my wages when I miss work for as long as I own the coach.”

I will wait to hear what Mark has to say after his conversation with Newmar.

I made it back to the RV Park a little before 5 PM. It took me until 8:30 to unhitch, hook everything up, level up, and I will have to admit to being slightly frustrated because two days of my life just slipped by because of an ongoing problem. Those two days were not productive or fun. However, I have opted to view them as an adventure. It just feels better that way.

After a shower, some food, a glass of wine, and sending motostat out to search, I was even connected to the Internet again. Life is good. I’m exhausted though. My sleep schedule is out of whack, everything has been unsettled for so long, and believe me when I tell you that I’ve bit off one helluva chunk of hard work with my new lifestyle. And while I was crying and dying – people were watching me deal the WPT Aruba Event on TV. Someone could tape it for me next time it airs, please…please…please.

The end?