Friday morning rolled around, and we were ready for another adventure. We pulled and packed the pork shoulder, along with hamburgers, hot dogs, and enough other food to keep the Weeble crew well-fed for the weekend.
Everything was loaded, everyone was aboard, and it was time to hit the road.
I climbed into the driver’s seat of the Weeblemobile, threw it into reverse, and glanced at my watch.
10:30 a.m.
Well, technically, we were thirty minutes behind schedule. But before you start thinking the Weeble Universe had already struck, let me explain.
The Weebles are preparing to hit the road again! In fact, by the time you’re reading this, the WeebleMobile should be rolling down the highway toward Little Beaver State Park in West Virginia. At least, that’s the plan. And as longtime readers know, plans and Weebleland don’t always get along.
This trip will be a little different from our usual adventures. Normally, we leave on Thursday and return on Monday. This time, we’re switching things around and heading out Friday morning, returning Tuesday.
Why the change? Well, believe it or not, bowling is partly responsible!
Day 3 at Little Beaver: Coal Mines, Waze, and Another Challenge to the RV Gods
Day 3 at Little Beaver started the way most mornings do at Camp Weeble—with Sophie acting as the official alarm clock.
Her alarm tone is a very dainty little whine.
This, of course, wakes up Buster and Pennie. We try to ignore the Sophie alarm, but unfortunately, Sophie was not equipped with a snooze button.
Eventually, Mrs. Weeble gives in and starts the morning routine. She hooks up the dogs, then goes back inside to get the girls’ pills ready and fill the food bowls. By this point, she usually has six little eyes staring through the Weeblemobile door, closely monitoring her progress.
Once breakfast has been served to the canine residents of Camp Weeble, Mrs. Weeble moves on to the most important part of her morning—a cup of coffee.
She puts a K-Cup in the coffee maker, fills the water reservoir, pushes the button, and waits for her morning elixir of calm to appear. Then she settles into a chair with her iPad and enjoys the morning.
Eventually, I get up.
Now, you would think that being on a camping trip, I would immediately fire up the Blackstone.
You would be wrong.
I fired up the microwave.
Having electricity is wonderful.
I made us breakfast burritos.
I know what you’re thinking.
Breakfast burritos from the microwave while camping?
They’re getting soft.
Well…maybe.
But I had cooked sausage and eggs on the Blackstone the morning before, so we haven’t gone completely soft yet.
After getting everything set up, Mrs. Weeble and I pulled out the good old lawn chairs and sat down to relax.
Well, that was the plan.
What actually happened was that we repeatedly got up to untangle the dogs, who apparently believed their new home away from home needed to be thoroughly explored from every possible angle.
Pennie started the festivities by wrapping herself around a couple of trees. Buster joined in by wrapping himself around the picnic table, and Sophie participated wherever she could.
It would have been nice if they had all done it at the same time. Then I could have gotten up once, untangled everybody, and gone back to relaxing.
But no.
I would untangle one dog, sit back down, and within a few minutes another one would be wrapped around a tree, a picnic table, a chair, or possibly something that wasn’t even there five minutes earlier.
After a while, I started feeling like a jack-in-the-box.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
You would think eventually they would figure out where they could walk without getting tangled.
You would be wrong.
These are not exactly the rocket scientists of the canine world. Either that, or they were getting even with us for taking them away from their comfortable couch at home.
Only they know for sure, and none of them are talking.
One of the things I have always enjoyed about our dogs is that each one has a completely different personality, and camping really brings those personalities out.
Sophie is the diva.
She will come out of the Weeblemobile, wander around long enough to take care of business, and then head straight back toward the door like she has had quite enough of this outdoor nonsense.
Once inside, she will sit by the door and whine.
Naturally, you get up and open the door for her.
She then looks at the open door…
and walks away.
Apparently, she just wanted to make sure the staff was still paying attention.
Pennie, on the other hand, is perfectly happy wandering around the campsite with her nose in the air, sniffing every scent that happens to drift through the campground.
Unfortunately, while conducting these important scientific investigations, she will eventually wrap herself around something.
Buster prefers sentry duty.
He stands guard, watching for suspicious critters that might threaten Camp Weeble.
I’m not entirely sure how effective he is.
One time, Buster and I were sitting outside when a squirrel came down the tree right beside us and casually headed toward the next campsite.
Buster saw nothing.
He heard nothing.
It was probably a good thing the squirrel wasn’t a ninja assassin, because Buster would never have seen him coming.
The Great Weeble Experiment: Can We Actually Leave Organized?
The plan for this week was a trip to Little Beaver State Park in Beaver, West Virginia.
When Mrs. Weeble and I started planning this adventure, we still had vivid memories of our last trip. You know… the one where we forgot the dog bowls and Pennie’s medication. That little incident may have shaved a few years off our lives.
This time, we vowed things were going to be different.
Of course, every one of our trips is different, but I digress.
Our mission was simple: have a camping trip with as few hiccups as possible. To accomplish this seemingly impossible task, I broke out checklists for just about everything. Things to pack. Things to do. Things to double-check. Things to check after we’d already checked them.
We got home after dropping the Weeblemobile off at the dealer, and the driveway looked strangely empty.
A 25-foot motorhome takes up a fair amount of room, so when it is suddenly gone, you notice.
There are several large boxwoods between our driveway and the neighbor’s property. That is where the Weeblemobile normally sits between trips, taking up space, blocking the view, and generally making the driveway look complete.
Without it there, the driveway looked like it was missing a tooth.
Still, we had reached the “What can you do?” stage of the repair process.
Later that day, Mrs. Weeble and I headed out to get some dinner. We were in her car, but I was driving.
When we got home, I pulled into the spot where the Weeblemobile normally sits. Mrs. Weeble got out and headed toward the back door.
I opened the driver’s door and noticed a few wasps flying around.
At first, I didn’t think much about it.
Then I saw why they were flying around.
There was a large wasp nest sitting in the boxwoods.
And when I say large, I do not mean a cute little starter nest.
I told you it was BIG
I mean a fully developed wasp condominium complex.
My first thought was, “How did that thing get so big without me seeing it and taking care of it when it was smaller?”
Then I realized why.
When we get into or out of the Weeblemobile, we normally use the side door. Since the RV sits right beside the boxwoods, we climb in through the side and walk forward to wherever we need to go. The driver’s seat and passenger seat are both easy to reach from inside.
If I do walk around to the driver’s door, I normally go around the front of the RV.
The nest was about halfway down the side of the Weeblemobile, right where I pull out the Blackstone grill from the outside storage compartment.
Somehow, I had pulled the grill out without ever having a disagreement with the residents.
Looking back, I am beginning to think they had been watching me for weeks.
At this point, I know exactly what everyone is thinking.
“Why didn’t he just back the car up and get out somewhere farther away?”
I asked myself that very same question.
Unfortunately, I asked it several minutes too late.
As everyone knows, 20/20 hindsight is a wonderful thing. It usually arrives right after it would have been useful.
So there I sat in the car, staring at the wasp nest and trying to decide how to get out without making them unhappy.
I really don’t like unhappy wasps.
Unhappy wasps tend to do things that make everyone else unhappy.
I slowly opened the car door and carefully stepped out. I quietly explained to the wasps that I was perfectly willing to leave them alone if they were willing to leave me alone.
It seemed like a fair deal.
Apparently, they were not interested in negotiations.
As I slowly moved down the side of the car, a couple of them started flying toward me.
I picked up my pace slightly.
They continued coming.
Apparently, my live-and-let-live policy had been rejected by the homeowners’ association.
Then one of them stung me on the wrist.
That ended the negotiations.
I immediately picked up speed and headed for the house.
At that moment, I decided that if they were not willing to follow the live-and-let-live motto, then neither was Captain Weeble.
Unfortunately, I did not have any wasp spray at home.
So, off to Home Depot I went.
I stood in the insect-control aisle and read every can on the shelf.
I wanted the deadliest spray I could find.
Yes, I was taking this personally.
I also wanted the spray that would shoot the farthest. I did not want any of them making a final act of defiance while I was carrying out the mission.
I found one that claimed it could shoot up to 25 feet.
That sounded about right.
Twenty-five feet of spray and another ten feet of running room seemed like a reasonable plan.
I waited until after dark and turned off the outside light. I put on my red headlamp so I could see the nest without lighting up the whole neighborhood.
Then I took up my old police stance behind Mrs. Weeble’s car, aimed carefully, and opened fire.
I sprayed directly into the entrance and soaked the entire nest.
Then I made a tactical retreat back into the house.
Some people might call it running.
I prefer tactical retreat.
About three hours later, just before going to bed, I went back outside to check.
I didn’t see anything moving.
I didn’t hear anything buzzing.
Feeling a little braver, I moved closer and sprayed into the entrance again. Then I soaked the entire nest one more time.
I went to bed thinking, “Sting me, will you?”
The next morning, before leaving for work, I gave the nest one final spraying.
At that point, I was no longer taking chances.
Mission accomplished.
At least I hoped so.
Cue the Twilight Zone music.
It had now been two weeks since we dropped the Weeblemobile off at the dealer for its recall work.
We had heard nothing.
No call.
No update.
Nothing but crickets.
Apparently, the dealership and the wasps used the same communication system.
We were now only two weeks away from our next camping trip to Little Beaver State Park in West Virginia, so I decided it was time to call and see whether the recall part had arrived.
I called around 10:30 in the morning and asked for the service department.
The woman who answered told me she had just sent another call back to service. She took my name and number and said someone would call me.
The Twilight Zone music started playing loudly in my head.
It was playing so loudly that I decided to watch an actual episode of The Twilight Zone.
I went to the computer and selected a random one.
The story was about a man stranded on an asteroid with a female robot.
That seemed a little too close to home, although I was not sure whether I was supposed to be the man, the robot, or the asteroid.
I waited all morning.
No call.
Around 3:00 that afternoon, I called the dealer again.
I figured that if they were not going to call me, I had better call them if I ever wanted the music in my head to stop.
This time, I managed to reach the service department.
I identified myself and asked whether the recall part had arrived.
It had not.
I asked if they had any idea when it might come in, since we had a camping trip planned in two weeks.
They said they had no idea. In fact, they were still waiting on recall parts for three other RVs.
That made me feel slightly better.
At least we were not being ignored alone.
I asked whether I could pick up the Weeblemobile, use it for our trip, and bring it back once the part arrived.
They said that would be fine and asked when I wanted to come get it.
I asked whether Saturday would work.
I already knew they had strict drop-off and pick-up times, and sure enough, they did not allow Saturday pickups.
Apparently, retrieving your own RV requires an appointment with the precision of a space launch.
Okay.
What can you do?
I asked how Tuesday worked for them.
Tuesday would be fine.
Then they asked what time I wanted to come.
I am still not entirely sure why they are so strict about the times, but I have learned that it is easier to go along with the system than to try to understand it.
I asked whether 11:00 would be okay.
They said it would.
I also told them I wanted to make sure the shore power worked before I left. I wanted them to show me that it was working so I could be certain I had not dreamed up the entire electrical problem.
They agreed.
The woman also reminded me to turn off the air conditioner before connecting or disconnecting shore power, or before starting or stopping the generator.
I told her I would not make that mistake again.
As I explained to her, this is a new RV, and I seem to learn something every time we take it out.
Some lessons are inexpensive.
Some lessons involve a repair shop.
So, we will be getting the Weeblemobile back on Tuesday.
The music in my head is beginning to fade.
I am also considering contacting a Mercedes dealer about the recall. Since it involves a wiring harness, there is at least a chance they may be able to complete the repair faster than the RV dealer.
That is, assuming the repair really needs to be done.
So, for now, the wasps are gone, the Weeblemobile is coming home, and the recall part is still somewhere out there in the unknown.
The story continues.
The adventure does not stop here. Be sure to check back next week to see what happens next.
When I called to schedule the RV recall work, they told me the earliest appointment they had was Wednesday at 8:30 in the morning.
I have a slight problem with Wednesday morning appointments. I work on Wednesdays, and I am usually at work by 6:00 a.m. Still, I figured the faster I could get the RV into the shop, the faster I would get it back.
Or so I hoped.
I called the dealer and asked whether I could drop the RV off on Tuesday afternoon or evening. Besides avoiding the Wednesday morning problem, I really didn’t want to fight morning traffic while driving the Weeblemobile.
I was told that I couldn’t do that because they had strict drop-off times. If my appointment was at 8:30 Wednesday morning, that was when I had to bring it in.
That seemed a little strange to me. My thinking was that if the RV were already sitting there Wednesday morning, they could get right to work on it.
Oh well. What do I know?
I went to my supervisor and asked for the day off. They didn’t have any problem with it. Honestly, I could probably spend an entire blog talking about how well I am treated at my job and how much I enjoy the people I work for and with.
Once I knew I had the day off, I decided to have a little fun with Mrs. Weeble.
To put this into context, Mrs. Weeble does not like backing up any vehicle. She has reached the point where she will back the car out of our driveway, but it certainly isn’t near the top of her list of favorite things to do.
Backing up the Weeblemobile would probably rank somewhere between getting a root canal and cleaning out the black tank.
I called her at home and told her I had good news and bad news. Then I explained that the appointment was Wednesday morning.
She said something along the lines of, “How are we supposed to do that when you’re supposed to be working?”
I told her that she could drive the RV over and wait for it. Or, if she didn’t want to sit there, she could always take an Uber home.
All I heard from her end of the phone was dead silence.
I waited for a response.
Nothing.
I didn’t hear the phone hit the floor, so I knew she hadn’t fainted. Still, the silence was not exactly the response I had expected.
Finally, I gave up and said, “Just kidding.”
I told her I had taken the day off. All she had to do was follow me to the dealership when we dropped off the RV.
I am pretty sure she called me one of the pet names she occasionally uses for me.
The day finally came for us to drop off the Weeblemobile. We gave ourselves plenty of time to get to the dealership. I pulled onto the lot, found a place to park, and we walked inside.
We didn’t see a soul.
Were we in the right place?
The door said “Service,” so we assumed we were. We stood there for a moment, expecting someone to appear. There had even been a chime when we walked through the door.
Someone had to know we were there.
The only living creature we could see was a parrot sitting on a perch and staring at us. We later learned that the parrot was the dealership mascot and was 33 years old.
At that point, the parrot appeared to be the entire service department.
Eventually, I heard voices coming from somewhere in the building. We followed the sound and finally found the service desk.
We spoke with the woman behind the desk and explained why we were there. She found our appointment in the computer and asked whether we had brought the recall notice.
I know what you are thinking.
These are the same people who have forgotten dog bowls, medications, and God only knows what else while traveling.
Surely, they forgot the recall notice.
Well, you would be 100 percent wrong this time.
I reached into my pocket and proudly produced the recall notice.
She looked it over and told us they would have to order the parts needed to complete the recall.
We said okay and then asked the obvious question.
“How long will that take?”
That was when I first heard the theme music from The Twilight Zone beginning to play in my head.
She told us it could take up to four weeks for the parts to arrive. However, she said they would look at our electrical problem sometime during the week.
That was not what we wanted to hear. We already had a camping trip planned for the first week of August.
We explained our travel plans to her. She said it shouldn’t be a problem because the recall was not considered a major safety issue. She said they would let us take the Weeblemobile on our trip and bring it back once the parts arrived.
My first thought was, “Let us?”
However, I decided that rocking the boat probably wasn’t a good idea.
I said that would be fine.
I’m not sure I could have said anything else.
We handed over the keys to the Weeblemobile. That was when she told us they needed a $199 deposit in case the electrical repairs were not covered under warranty. She also said they would not charge the card until the repairs were completed and only if we owed something.
What were we supposed to say?
She had the keys, and we had no shore power.
The only reasonable answer was, “Okay.”
We left the dealership and headed to Bob Evans for breakfast. I do love their biscuits and sausage gravy.
We had just received our food when my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen and saw that the call was coming from the RV dealership.
It was too soon for bad news, right?
I answered, and it was the woman we had spoken with at the service desk. She told me they had ordered the part involved with the recall.
That sounded like good news.
Well, not exactly.
The part had been ordered, but she still didn’t know when it would arrive.
The Twilight Zone music started playing a little louder.
Then she told me they had checked the generator system and everything appeared to be working correctly.
I explained that the generator was not the problem. The problem was with the shore-power electrical system.
She said okay and told me they would check it again.
At least they were already looking at the Weeblemobile, so the music in my head quieted down a little.
I was just finishing my lovely biscuits and sausage gravy when the phone rang again.
Once again, it was the dealership.
This time, I was fully expecting bad news.
It wasn’t exactly bad news, but the music was starting again.
They had checked the shore-power system, and everything was working perfectly.
They tested the Weeblemobile using our power cord.
It worked.
They tested it using their power cord.
It worked.
I said okay, but all I could think was, “I know it wasn’t working for me.”
The pedestal breaker had been fine. The Watchdog had shown an error. The breaker inside the RV had tripped, and even after resetting it, we still had no shore power.
Yet now, according to the dealership, everything was working normally.
What can you do at that point besides begin to feel a little stupid?
So, that is where things stand right now.
The Weeblemobile is sitting at the dealership. The recall part has been ordered, although nobody knows when it will arrive. The electrical system that refused to work for us is apparently behaving perfectly for them.
Cue the Twilight Zone music.
The adventure does not stop here. Be sure to check back next week to see what happens next with the Weeblemobile.
Buster, the Breaker, and the Weeblemobile Twilight Zone
Well, everything started as planned.
That should have been my first warning.
I finished last week’s blog and scheduled it to post Friday at noon, just like always. Then I worked on some RC club articles while Buster served as my technical advisor.
I would ask him a question, and he would give me the look.
“Really? Do you honestly think I know that?”
So back to my research I would go.
At some point, Buster got up and gave me another look. This one was easier to understand.
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