The Road to Clyde

Mrs. Weeble and I have grown increasingly frustrated trying to find a used RV.

We believed buying used would give us an advantage. The price would be lower. The original owner would have worked out the factory kinks. And surely, someone who had invested that much money would have taken pride in maintaining it.

Slowly—but surely—we were discovering that wasn’t always the case.

Before all this started, Deb from Deb’s RV Services had warned me to be cautious when shopping for used. She told me that many RVs on consignment were units that dealerships didn’t want to carry themselves. That little nugget of wisdom kept echoing in my head every time we uncovered another issue.

At some point—neither of us remembers who said it first—one of us floated the idea:

“Maybe we should look at new RVs.”

When you look at dealer websites, the sticker prices can feel like they belong in another tax bracket. But instead of giving up, I cast a wide net online.

That’s when I found two East-to-West Sprinter models within our price range—one in North Carolina and another in California.

The next day I called.

The first one? Already had a deposit and was in the process of being sold.

The second one? Sold.

Frustration level: rising.

Back to the internet I went. I couldn’t find a single East-to-West Sprinter anywhere in the country that fit our budget. So I widened the search.

That’s when I found two Jayco Melbourne Sprinters—one in California and one in Ohio.

When I checked the California dealer’s website, it wasn’t listed as in stock. That one was already gone.

So on the way to my Thursday morning bowling league, I called the Ohio dealer.

Mrs. Weeble was riding along with me, as she often does. I had planned to call after bowling, but before we pulled out of the driveway she said, “You should call them before bowling.”

Now, any smart married man knows that the worst phrase in the English language is: “I told you so.”

So I made the call from the car.

Fully expecting to hear, “Sorry, it just sold,” I spoke with the salesman. He said it showed in inventory. He offered to walk outside and physically confirm it was still there, then put us on hold.

I looked at Mrs. Weeble and asked, “What do we do if it’s there?”

Without hesitation, she said, “Sounds like a road trip.”

A few moments later, the salesman came back on the line.

“It’s here. And it’s available.”

Now the game had changed.

I asked if we could put some money down to hold it. We weren’t taking chances this time. He said it wasn’t necessary—he’d mark it sold pending our visit.

That was all the encouragement we needed.

Clyde, Ohio — Here We Come

Friday morning, I got home from work at 10 a.m.

Mrs. Weeble had the bags packed and sitting by the door. All I had to do was climb into the passenger seat.

Off to Clyde, Ohio we went.

We arrived at the hotel around 6 p.m., grabbed a quick dinner, and turned in early. Sleep came easily—though maybe not as peacefully as we hoped. I woke up at 6 a.m. to find Mrs. Weeble already awake. She couldn’t fall back asleep. The dealer didn’t open until 9.

Now neither of us could sleep.

We showered, dressed, and headed down for the continental breakfast. Then back to the room. And waited.

With our past RV buying experiences, we were half-expecting the phone to ring with bad news.

At 8:45 a.m., we pulled into the dealership and sat in the car.

After about three minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to look around,” I told Mrs. Weeble.

We wandered the lot until someone unlocked the front door at 9 o’clock sharp. Our salesman, Roger, greeted us warmly and made a little small talk about our trip.

Then he led us out to the service bay.

There she was.

He walked us through the features—the Mercedes chassis, the bells and whistles. We asked a few questions he didn’t immediately know the answers to, and instead of guessing, he went to find out. That scored points with me.

Then he asked if we’d like to take it for a test drive.

Was I going to turn that down? Not a chance.

He copied my driver’s license, backed the rig out, and handed me the keys.

I climbed into the driver’s seat and immediately looked for the gear shift.

There wasn’t one.

Apparently, Mercedes has replaced the traditional shifter with what looks like a little joystick on the steering column. After a brief moment of confusion, I figured it out, put it in drive, and off we went.

And let me tell you—she rode smooth. Surprisingly quiet. Solid.

That’s when Mrs. Weeble asked, “What are we going to do?”

So I asked her what she thought.

Truth be told, I had already made up my mind.

She looked at me and said, “I think we should take it.”

Now, who am I to argue with a highly intelligent woman like Mrs. Weeble?

We returned to the dealership and told Roger to start the paperwork. We put down our deposit and scheduled pickup for the following weekend.

Then we climbed back into our car and drove the 455 miles home.

This time, there were no doubts.

Just two satisfied smiles—and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was the one.

---

Next up: Pickup day… and bringing her home.