The Wanderer

[SuperBuickGuy]

structure

more tomorrow

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

new windshield (and a bunch of rock-chip fixes) thanks Speedy

and more fitting

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

getting closer

 

[RamRod]

pics arnt loading on Tapatalk

Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk

 

[JPaul]

They were for me yesterday...

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

So it seems to be taking shape.

one of the things I wasn't thrilled about was the loss of passenger-carrying capacity. This isn't somewhere I'd want to sit for long periods, but will be good enough for short jaunts

then that simply flattens out to a bed. Bonus is that will be where the pooches sleep

there's the lay out. On the sides will be (at about halfway up the window) wire shelves.

running out of time, but I think I'll at least get the bed in place

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

THE WANDERERS #19




TOURISTS OR RACERS?

By Rick Sieman






When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl was talking with the SCORE/Baja 1000
race promoters about entering the Baja Safari, a non-racing rally event
that runs on the same course as the Baja 500. Emma, quite naturally, was
horrified.

She insisted that Carl think about it for a few hours before committing to
such a foolish endeavor with their beloved Suburban; so Carl agreed to do
a few hours of shopping in beautiful downtown Ensenada with her. We join
them now as they wander (what else?) through the streets.

Emma dragged Carl into a small shop. "This looks like a nice place, dear.
I want to get a new purse; my sister told me you can get some great deals
here if you know how to haggle with the shop owners.
Carl snorted. "Hah! Woman, you're liable to walk out of here with a bunch
of junk if you ain't careful. Most of this stuff is aimed at tourists."

Twenty minutes later, they left the shop with a new leather purse slung
over Emma's shoulder; Carl carried a huge black velvet painting of Elvis
fighting a bull, with a burning ship sinking in the background. Carl
beamed. "Lookit this, Emma! This painting has got it all! There's Elvis,
and he's got those big eyes like a wounded harp seal. Then you got some
action with the bullfight, and in the background you got a sinking ship.
There must be two or three dozen pictures of different kinds of cactus in
the left-hand corner. This here's a masterpiece! And the best part is the
sparkly stuff they glued on the guitar. When you move the painting, it
catches the light like sun on a dead catfish."
Emma looked at the painting as if a sea gull just pooped on her shoe.
"Well, it's a bit big for the Suburban, but it certainly is … ahhh …
different."
"Yup. And I got a real deal on it. The guy wanted a hundred bucks, and I
haggled him down to $98.50. I saw tears in his eyes, but hey, business is
business."

As they walked down the street, however, Emma saw about 150 other
identical paintings, most of them selling in the $20 range, frame included.
Tactfully, she did not point this out to Carl.
After accumulating a huge sombrero, a model ship made of string and wood,
a pair of sandals made out of tire tread, a Rolex watch for $18, a plastic
saint for the dashboard, a chess set with carved pieces that look like
melted candy bars, a wooden pelican, a clay flower pot, a serape with owls
circling around a dead rabbit on it, a belt four inches wide with a
two-pound buckle, and a hand-woven basket to hold their laundry.

All this shopping made them hungry, so Carl and Emma stopped in one of the
many small restaurants for a bite to eat. Carl grabbed the menu and
studied it. "You gotta be careful, Emma. Drink one glass of water, and
chances are you'll keel over like a snake just bit ya. Drink all the beer
you want, but make sure you eat a ton of hot sauce with it or it'll make
your blood circulate backwards. That's what my buddy, Howie, told me.
A smiling waiter walked up. "Buenas dias, friends. What can I get you?"
Emma pointed at the menu. "I'll have a number 26, please."
"Good selection, senora. That will give you a sampling of many different
dishes. And for the senor?"
"I'll have this here Jalapeno Special, and put some serious hot sauce on
it. None of that wimpy stuff. And bring me a couple of cold suds, too."
"Cerveza?"
"No. Beer. Cold ones."

***

"Will he be okay, doctor?"
"Oh, Si, senora. He only has a small cut on his lip, and his stomach will
be just fine in a few hours. The cut ?"
"Oh, that? That's when he stuffed his face in that bucket of mop water on
the restaurant floor. He must have banged it on the edge, or maybe the mop
handle. You see, that special was soooo hot."
"Yes, I know. My people tend to like their food on the spicy side, but
even the bravest of them normally do not add hot sauce to a platter of
fried jalapenos and chili peppers. Make sure that he takes some of this
medicine each hour for the rest of the day."

Later that day, a recovered Carl and a happy Emma walked in to one last
shop. Emma bought a sweatshirt that showed Spuds McKensie getting run over
by a Corona truck on the front, and Carl put on the Baja 500 T-shirt he
had just purchased.
The saleslady handed them their change and asked: "Is the senor here for
the big race.
Carl perked up. "Yup. And I think I just might sign up now that I'm
feeling better."
The smile disappeared from Emma's face and she let out a moan.
The saleslady asked: "Is the senora sick?"
"Naw. Just musta been something she ate."

The next day, Carl stood in line with numerous other drivers signing up
for the Baja 500 Safari Rally. It is, indeed, an interesting concept. The
drivers get to drive their rigs on most of the same course that the racers
do, but with a few important differences: They start after the racers, and
they run on timed rally rules, rather than flat-out racing.
A great deal, of course, depends on the co-pilot, who has to act as the
navigator and feed the driver information.

"Sign here, sir. Now, who will be your co-driver?"
Carl smiled broadly. "Why, my wife, Emma, naturally. Hellfire! She gets me
all over this here country without getting lost, so I figure this should
be no sweat. Emma? Emma? Now where did that woman get off to?"

***

Whoa, folks! It looks like Carl up and did it. But where's Emma? And will
they actually compete? I don't know about you, but, quite frankly, I'm
getting worried. Next month should be interesting.

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

framework is painted... Sunday assembly

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

alrighty then.... still wondering how much I'll have done before the NW Overland Rally...
Let's just clear the air - I hate wood, I hate trees, firewood is good as I'm really good at making it... so if you're expecting a treatise on how to carpenter, you'll be disappointed.... okay, with expectations lowered... here we go

I do like liquid nails, though... makes putting this together much easier

inverter

water pump

basic idea of the stove shelf

and the bed shelf

and the seat/bed extension.... not done yet, but very close

need to get more piano hinge and this is ready for paint

so the legs simply fold down... it'll be far clearer once it's all installed

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

I need another Sunday to get done and it just isn't going to happen. Tomorrow night is probably going to be the last of the building until after the rally. At this point, I don't have long enough cords for the solar panels.... ugh.


anyway, bed frame is done

battery holders.... 50% is now in place

no picture but I have protection under the battery, now just for the ends


it's a race to finish enough...

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

we have power

connected all the various power sources together

water won't be done, propane neither but it should be comfortable...

 

[RamRod]

I look forward to seeing it tomorrow/Friday

Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

You will

So, loaded and ready to go (well, other then clothes and food, but the important stuff is on

lordy I hate sorting from all my other camping excursions... my hope is this is the one-rig-to-rule-them all. Failing that, it's where the sports closet is getting stored.

the foot was for sanity - makes it a lot easier to store stuff under

Friend loaned me his brand-new trailer.... thanks John! or maybe I should thank John's brother since it's his trailer

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

THE WANDERERS #20




WHEN THE FLAG DROPS!

[h=1]By Rick Sieman[/h]




When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just completed a shopping spree in Ensenada, Baja, Mexico... and Carl had decided to enter the Baja Safari, a timed rally that was to be run in conjunction with the Baja 500 race.
The competitors would actually drive on the same course as the regular racers, but would start after them, and would have to drive against the clock. We join them as they leave the sign up booth and head for tech inspection.

***

"Uhh. sir, are you going to race this... thing... in the Baja Safari?"
Carl eyeballed the tech inspector. "Yeah. What about it? This here is a stretched wheelbase, four wheel drive Suburban. Ain't you ever seen one before?"
"Oh, yes... of course. But I've never seen one with a boat on the roof, a satellite dish, two trail bikes, four roll-out awnings, a fold-up porch, an external barbecue and an outside shower."
Carl beamed. "Hellsfire, boy, then you ought to take a looksee inside. You're really gonna be impressed!
They clambered up inside the huge Suburban and Carl gave the inspector the tour.
"This here's the fold down table, and over there is the stove and fridge. I keep the fishin' rods on the roof, and over there is the fold-out beds. The TV, stereo and VCR is over here and the pool table is tucked in alongside the fridge. The generator hangs out on the back rack where the big trail bike is mounted, and I got six batteries under the hood. There's two winches in case I git 'er stuck, which is highly unlikely, because I am a muchly skilled driver. And there's a half dozen other goodies I ain't even showed you. Well, whaddaya think?"
The tech inspector just stood there, jaw hanging, eyes bugged out.

***

Forty hours later, Carl and Emma were sitting in The Whale, lined up to compete in the Baja Safari. The regular racers were up ahead, roaring off the starting line, one every 30 seconds. It would be two hours before the Safari entrants rolled.

Carl bit off a plug of tobacco and grumbled. "Jeez, Emma, you'd think they'd woulda left some of our stuff in The Whale. Do you realize our truck here is practically gutted? No fridge, no tables, no beds, no TV... they even made me take the boat off the roof and both trail bikes off the bumper racks. Well, guess that's the price you gotta pay to be a big-time racer, right Emma? Emma? Emma, you OK?"
Emma had the fingernails of both hands buried into the dash, her face was pale and a large blue vein throbbed visibly in her forehead.
Carl patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. "Now, dear... don't you worry none."
Emma looked up sharply. "Worry? I'm not worried. I'm sick as a sheep dog that just ate an Army boot. I feel like I might die and I'm afraid that I won't."
Carl spit a small wad out of the window of The Whale. "No doubt it was those 14 margaritas you drank over there in Hussong's Cantina the other day. Boy, I was wondering where you got off to. And you know, it's not like you to drink much more than a glass or two of Boones Farm Strawberry Ripple wine every now and then."
Emma shuddered. "Carl, you big bozo, I was hoping to get drunk and get thrown in jail so I wouldn't have to race in this dumb race with you."
Carl raised one eyebrow. Spit it out, Emma. What are you really trying to say? I mean, if you didn't wanna race, you shoulda said something. Well, anyways, it's too late now. We'll be up and rolling before you know it. And you're gonna have the ride of your life!"

Carl rolled forward on the crowded main street of Ensenada, which was blocked off for the start. Only one truck was in front of him... and then it was gone, accompanied by a chirping from the rear tires on the pavement.
Carl smiled a crafty smile. That's a start? Hellsfire, he'd show them a start! After all, he had a 454 under the hood, and it wasn't a stocker, nosirree, not by a long shot.
The starter waved The Whale forward and Carl inched up carefully, put it in neutral and rapped the healthy motor a few times. Impressive, yes indeed, even the causal observer could sense that.
The starter pointed the flag at Carl, and indicated with his fingers that ten seconds were left. Carl depressed the clutch, and revved the engine: five, four, three, two, one! Carl let the clutch and smashed the gas pedal. The engine screamed and the tach leaped for the red zone.

And The Whale stayed right where it was.

Vehicles tend to do that when they're in neutral.

Carl looked down sheepishly, and then slammed the shifter into gear, then let the clutch go. The Whale lurched backward and slammed into a Toyota 4-Runner directly in line behind Carl. The sound of breaking glass and bending metal was clear and loud.
Whoops!
Carl quickly yanked the shifter out of reverse, put it in low, the punched the throttle again. One entire bumper and half of the grill was ripped off the Toyota and both awnings on The Whale unfolded from the impact and rolled out to full extension. Carl thought he ought to get out and hook the awnings back up, but a glance in the rear view mirror showed an angry driver getting out and waving his fist.
Now seemed like a good time to leave. Carl wondered why the Toyota driver was so upset. Hey, he thought, racing is racing, and you can't whine over a little incident.
Carl looked over to the right side. Emma had her face covered up with both hands and her knees were clapping each other like one of those little toy wind-up monkeys you get at the carnivals. Carl sighed. Some people just weren't cut out for racing.

The first part was simple and easy... just paved roads and streets leading away from the town of Ensenada, but Carl knew that some real off-roading was coming up. Now would be a good time to calm Emma down before they got to the rough stuff.
"Emma? Honey-pot? Why don't you whip out that there rally map and see what pace we gotta maintain to win this here rally?"
Emma let out a pitiful moan.
"Hey, you feelin' worse dear?"
Emma shook her head from side to side. "No. It's just that you left the rally map and times back in the hotel room."
Carl sighed. "Well, never you mind, honey-pot. We're gonna do just fine. Way I figure it is this: most of the people in this here event ain't even gonna finish it. I got everything under control."
Emma looked out of the window at both awnings flapping in the breeze like some sort of giant prehistoric pterodactyl, and wondered if, indeed, ANYTHING, was under control!

***

What will happen when they hit the dirt? Stay tuned, because next month we'll join Carl and Emma in the thick of battle. Sends shivvers up my spine just thinking about it!

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

so what happened?
we made it back



details it ran, went slowly, made a log-truck's day, have a few things to do and still need to finish it.
So I left Thursday morning for a 1 1/2 hour drive to Plain Washington. Took 2 1/2. Climbing 5000 feet went very slowly because it would get warm and I'd stop and let it cool. By the end, I was in low range going 5 mph. Likely issue is the pump is the wrong pump... when I did the work on the motor, I was told a place did the work on it - and they were experts. They may be experts who never saw it, or maybe idiots who need their tools relocated to save others. The pump is, I suspect, a 1/2 ton pump. That's a quick 10 hp loss. Then there was the timing. They had it very wrong and I fixed it. Which helped it go faster (probably wouldn't have made the top if I hadn't do that bit). But what I also think they did was they reduced the pump pressure. I go no smoke, not even at WOT, hot and on a climb.... to me that means they turned the pressure down rather then up. That would cause the overheating because it would be running lean. Normally, after a turbo install, you turn the pressure up to get more fuel.... then you get a bit of black smoke.... no big deal, not a cloud, just so black at full throttle....


On the way back, things were better because I wasn't starting at 400 feet above sea level, but nearly 2500 and the pass is 4500. Still, I have many bad words to say about the camper who let people past then cut me off at the bottom of a climb because she didn't want to be stuck behind me....yeah.... she added 30 minutes to my drive. How do I know her? well after me using her as a wind break and laying on my horn she got the idea and moved so I could pass.... of course, by then the damage was done.... still, it worked very well. The bed is great, the insulation helped, I had an electric heater the last night but didn't need it, the refridge is absolutely awesome, the solar panels kept the batteries fully charged. wheeling was awesome.


It was a good trip.

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

[FONT=&quot]Update goes like this:[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]In a couple weeks, I'll take the rig to a shop to turn up the pump. Between now and then I'll do a filter swap and change the lift pump. On top of that, I'm changing filters - I really dislike the square filters because they're such a pain to swap. Not just that but I think the housing on this one has issues (which could, actually, be part of the problem)... [/FONT]

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

My story gets interesting before last year's rally so it starts there.
I pulled this out of a garage in September of 2015

and by May of 2016, I was narrowing in on taking it to the Rally.

that picture is a great one, it also is of a non-operable vehicle as the motor was seized and the picture was taken while waiting for a tow.
it's probably a good thing I didn't make it because at that point it was nearly undriveable and had a serious electrical gremlin.
Because I was continuing to struggle with that rig, I abandoned my plan to build a teardrop and picked this up (which would make my overland rig a towed rig)....

With that background, eventually I dialed in the FJ40 so by the Rally, it would have been fine towing a teardrop.... but whatever, I was committed - and hearing the scuttlebutt from people who didn't know that walls have ears was actually pretty funny (yes, I dared tow the FJ40). But nevermind, I like unique rigs, and a diesel Sub towing a not-much-left-from-toyota '40 seemed to fit right in. especially since the prior years I was in my H3 Hummer

... and despite the haters, there were a lot of people who really seemed to dig both rigs. This also kind of explains why the '40 came along - by gosh or by golly it was going to make the Rally and be successful. So here the story pick up.


in the winter months, the '40 has a soft top on it.... but after April, it comes off

also removing to top saves weight - an important consideration when you're going to be going 5 mph is low range at the top of Steven's Pass.

and we're off
we arrive and on Friday decided to try out the obstacle course

such a blast, so I had a few friends drive it as well
and no, it's not me driving

the guy driving is my neighbor and the one who owns the Yellow Jeep you see in several pictures. we met when I was broke, again, and he helped me get it home. We've been friends ever since
the grin is still on his face

next up, another friend who was given the instruction "drive anywhere you like, you won't get in trouble"... my land cruiser has grown up... this friend drove the white/black Hummer H3T - and was talking about how we'll be building something comparable for him

then Jim .... my favorite line "aren't you supposed to be teaching?" when the other instructor saw him driving. Fun fact, it was in 2 wd for the course for him (inadvertently, actually)

Hallie has become adept at waiting for us to fix our rigs.... that said, she tore it up on Sunday on the course

the true test, though, was driving the 50 miles to Liberty, running the trails then driving it back.... of course, air must be let out because we're old and John doesn't have lockers

I have a picture of this spot and a friend doing a moon shot in his CJ5.... longer wheelbase and travel made this seem a lot easier

who needs lockers?

last year, I had to fold the mirrors of my H3 in to clear these trees....

I may or may not have warned John about this hole

some splashing too

stumps are for flexing - though I think all our flexing on this stump may have ended its usefulness (I have similar pictures of years past)

time to fire up the York compressor and fill us up (note for next year - mosquito spray)

the greatest paradox - people who strive to get away from everyone, camp together in a meadow. Was a lot of fun

going the other way was far less stress (helps when you're starting 2000 feet higher )

and home

can't wait for next year

 

[JPaul]

Looks like fun! You did a great job on the 40 and I'm looking forward to seeing the Suburban finished out.

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

WANDERS # 21




THE AGONY OF VICTORY AT THE BAJA 500 SAFARI RALLY

By Rick Sieman







When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just started in the Baja 500 Safari, an event held in conjunction with the Baja 500 off-road race. The Safari is a timed event, but run on the same course that the racers compete on. Carl, much to Emma's dismay, had entered The Whale in the event. Their start was less than auspicious, as Carl backed into the truck behind him when the flag dropped, and had both awnings unroll on a fast road section. We join them now as they are pulled off the side of the road, and putting the
remains of the awnings in the cavernous interior of The Whale.

***

"OK, Emma. I got the awnings stuffed inside. How much time did we lose doing that?"
"Emma glanced at her Timex. "About five minutes, dear. It's a good thing they didn't blow away."
Carl grunted and spit a blast of tobacco juice at a lizard standing on a rock about ten feet away. The last half of the lizards tail got coated with the brown substance, and it quickly darted away, no doubt doing its own version of lizard-swearing.
"Well then, we just gotta make up some time before we get into the dirt. It's gonna be pedal to the metal, hammer-down all the way, red-line city, full-throttle, torque-twistin'..."
"Carl, just shut up and drive, please. And try not to kill us.”

Carl fired up and lurched off with a chirp from the tires. Then a frown covered his face, and he screeched to a halt. He put The Whale into reverse and chirped the tires once again, then squealed to another halt. "Sorry about that, Emma. Guess I forgot about you. Hop in, Honey Pot."
Emma sighed. "Actually, I would have been better off standing there alongside the road. The worst that could have happened would be that I would get robbed and killed. With you at the wheel, were probably gonna get lost and then you'll kill us both when you drive off a cliff, and then we'll be dead AND lost!"
Carl looked up at the sky. "Emma, just git back in the seat, and I promise I'll drive real careful and never race again. After this one, that is."
Emma sniffled and reluctantly got in the passenger seat. "Promise?"
"Promise!" said Carl, while keeping his hands behind his back, so Emma couldn't see his fingers crossed.

A few miles later, they peeled off the narrow paved road onto a narrower dirt road that was hard-packed and riddled with rain ruts. Evil looking cactus and foreboding rocks lined the edges of much of the road... if you could call it a road.

Carl drove quite well, holding a brisk pace, but taking no chances. The ride in The Whale was quite comfortable, with the exception of the awnings jumping around in the back and the goldfish getting slopped out of his (her?) fish bowl twice.

A checkpoint popped up around a turn and Carl idled into the lane. A checker dropped a stub in his stub can, and wrote down his time. "How am I doing?" asked Carl.
"Number 27? You're about two minutes off your pace. Not bad. At least you're not burning the check like some of those maniacs.
"Burning?"
"Yeah. That's when you come in too early. Cost's you double points."
Carl thought this over for a second. “Hokey-dokey. Thanks for the info. Say, you ain't ain’t got another map, do ya? We sort of left ours back at the hotel."
The lady gave Carl and map and waved them off with a big smile. "Hot damn, Emma! Now we’re in business again. I want you to study that map while I make up some of those lost two minutes."

***

Carl got on the gas hard for the next half hour and passed a number of other vehicles, some of them broken down alongside the course, or changing flat tires.
Emma yelled over the sound of the engine: "Dear, there's a thing coming up called an "EITHER-OR" section. If you take the long way, it's easy... and if you take the short way, it's hard."
Carl gave a fiendish smile. "There's no choice, Emma. We take the short way and pick up some serious time. That's what it's all about. The challenge of man and machine against nature and the natural. How much further 'till the "NEITHER-NOR" section?"
"A few more miles, dear."

For the next few miles, Carl climbed steadily upward. The narrow road twisted and turned as it climbed, with an alarming drop-off on the passengers side and a near-vertical wall on the drivers side.
Near the summit of the climb, Carl saw a sign that said, LONG WAY/SHORT WAY, with two arrows pointing. Without even thinking, Carl took the SHORT WAY turn and promptly regretted ever being born. He was going down an almost vertical hill!
He nailed the brakes and it made absolutely no difference. Emma let out a horrifying shriek! "We're gonna diiiiiiieeeeee! ! !"
Carl white-knuckled the steering wheel and concentrated on trying to survive. On the way down, he had to dodge a few deep ruts, rocks and gnarly bushes, but the truck didn't want to turn. Then he remembered an article he'd read a few years ago, and gave the throttle a little nudge, and lo and behold, The Whale responded! Carl made a mental note to re-subscribe to the magazine if he lived through this.

The Whale picked up speed and plummeted down the hill at a truly frightening rate. At one point, Carl noted that the speedo read 62 miles per hour, and he thought it was weird to be breaking the speed limit while pointed nearly straight downward. Then, oddly, the hill started flattening out. Just a little at first, then more... until at last, Carl found that he was on level ground.
It was then that he realized that the hill was nowhere near as dangerous as it looked. The huge run-off area made it relatively safe, in spite of its fearsome appearance. Carl got to the flat land and let out a sigh. "Emma? You can relax now. We're at the bottom and we're not even close to being dead. Emma? Don't bite the dash like that. You're liable to get vinyl poisoning, or something like that."
Emma emitted a small moan and slumped back in the seat. "Carl, I think I might take up sky diving when we get back to the states, just to calm my nerves down. Let me tell you one thing, buster! If you ever take me down another hill like that, I will break all of your fishing rods and run off with the first band of gypsies I meet!"
Carl got a puzzled look on his face: "So what are you saying, Emma?"
"Carl!"
"Yes, dear."

***

Some time later, Carl rolled into another check. "How am I doin' ?"
"Well, you are a whole bunch early. How'd you manage to move up through the pack so quick?"
"I went down that hill back there and took the short cut."
The check worker let out a low whistle. "Wow! Nobody has been going down that hill except for a few of the crazier racers, and they've come in all pasty-faced and shakin'!"
Carl put on a smug smile: "Shaking? From that itty-bitty hill? You gotta be kidding? Why I could go down that thing three times and up it four while tuning in a good station on the radio and eatin' a tuna fish sandwhich. It's a piece a' cake."
The check worker shook his head from side to side. "Mister, you're a lot braver than you look. Gotta hand it to you. Too bad you lost so many points by coming in early. Actually, you're the first Safari Rally truck through here."
Carl waved goodbye to the checker and proceeded down the course, which was getting rougher and rougher. He kept up a good pace, not really having any ideas of whether or not he was on schedule.

A few miles later, The Whale veered hard to the right and whacked a bush with a course marking ribbon hanging on it. The ribbon came off and wrapped around the antenna. Then the truck darted to the left side a few minutes later. Carl picked up more ribbon, this time it wrapped around his mirror.

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

After another half-dozen brushes with the bushes, he realized that something was wrong. Carl got out, did an inspection under the truck, then grabbed a front tire and wiggled it. Whoops! The wheel bearings were loose. Real loose. Perhaps even shot.
Carl yelled into the cab. "Hey, Emma! How far is it till we get to that check point/pit that's on the stretch of highway. No way do I want to work on the wheel bearings in this deep sand."
Emma peered at the map and ran a chubby forefinger over the indicated route. "About 30 miles, dear. Do you think you can make it that far?"
"Yeah. Long as I don't hear any grinding or see any smoke. Of course, the handling ain't gonna be too great. It's gonna take all of my driving skills - which are considerable - just to keep The Whale between the trees."

***

For the next hour, Carl wobbled and weaved down the trail, banging into bushes, weeds tree branches. In the process, he collected hundreds of feet of red and white course marker ribbon.
Eventually, they got to the highway section and Carl jacked the front end up into the air. Forty five minutes later, he had the wheel bearings replaced and wiped his greasy hands on a red shop rag. "How many Safari trucks passed us by while I worked on the truck, Emma?"
"Why, none dear."
"How could that be? Hells fire, we been down for nearly an hour. Well, that ain't my worry. Let's get goin', woman. We got us a race to run!"

***

For the balance of the race, Carl drove conservatively, and almost lulled Emma into relaxing. Eventually, many hours later, they idled into the town of Ensenada and crossed the finish line. When asking, Carl found out that no other Safari Rally entries had finished yet. Carl and Emma went to their hotel, showered, then went to a restaurant for a meal.

They then went back to the finish line to check the results. Oddly enough, there were still no other Safari Rally finishers. Carl shrugged his shoulders and went back to the hotel to catch some sleep.

***

The next day, all the results were posted, and lo and behold, Carl was the overall winner of the Safari Rally. In fact, he was the only finisher. Even as they were looking at the results sheet, a Safari Rally truck drove into town, with the driver looking very upset. He ran up to the race officials and started yelling and waving his arms. Carl sidled in closer to hear what was being said: "...were doing just fine, then right around mile 150, all of the course markers disappeared. Nothing. Not one piece of ribbon. It's as if someone went out there and took everything down. I spent half the time getting un-lost and the other half trying to get directions. There are Safari Rally trucks all over the place trying to find out where they are and where they're supposed to be. I tell you, I've never been so..."
Carl walked over, got Emma by the arm and gently pulled her away from the hubbub of activity at the finish line area. "Emma, let's go get us something to eat. I hate to hang around bad sports. Sorta takes the edge off a sweet victory. We'll come back and get our trophy later in the day."
Emma gave Carl a funny look, but chose to say nothing, which often is the mark of a wise woman.

***

Next month. Heading north.

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

News, pictures later, I hooked up a small air conditioner to the batteries/panel and found out that in direct sun I could literally go until the sun goes down. Indirect charging (e.g. after direct sun) I lose about 10% capacity per hour. Without any solar it will run for 3 hours..... that's without any additional cabin cooling from the suburban.

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

Picture time ...
3 plus hours - and I really need to program this for the battery capacity - it never moved from this

these are pretty awesome at keeping the sun off

the a/c test unit (eventually it'll be a coleman mach 8 on the roof)

then onto other fun stuff
I was just thinking "you know, I haven't smelled like diesel in forever".... then "I need to change the fuel filter"

and like everything else, it's never that easy.... on the lower right quadrant there's a knub that should be stiff not limp

and it's leaking.... hmmm, I wonder if this is part of my lack-of-power issue? (probably a good part since it'd let air in the lines)

fortunately, I just happen to have another housing that I've been carting around for years - and don't go telling me you don't have one too

new one installed... truck even runs again after all of this

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

time to lose the electric fans

of course, the PO cut a huge hole in the shroud... that won't work

so a bit of aluminum and life is good

 

[JPaul]

Crap, I'm supposed to have a spare GM diesel fuel filter housing kicking around? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?!?!? I'M SUCH A FAILURE! *sob*

 

[SuperBuickGuy]

Crap, I'm supposed to have a spare GM diesel fuel filter housing kicking around? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?!?!? I'M SUCH A FAILURE! *sob*

it's not too late, you too can carry around worthless crap then crow about how smart you when you use it (and not the 10,000 other bits that are hanging about for the same reason)... but stay tuned, eventually I'll be bit*hing and moaning about something I threw away/gave away that would be really useful now (such as the 300ci Buick that "I would never use" that would work excellent in the Buick wagon I'm building). Moments of brilliance followed by hours of despair.... my mantra of life (and I bet you thought it was buy high, sell low, make it up in volume).