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.
“Hey. I’ve got to go.”
Before I go any further, let me explain what kind of dog Buster is. Buster is a German Shorthaired Pointer. GSPs are great dogs. They are affectionate, smart, loyal, and what people call “Velcro dogs.”
All of our dogs are like that.
The only problem is they are deeply concerned that you might fall into the toilet and drown. So if you go into the bathroom, make sure you latch the door, or you will have company. Possibly an audience. Maybe even supervision.
They can also be a little hardheaded.
For Mother’s Day, I got Mrs. Weeble a T-shirt with a GSP on it that says, “I hear you, but I’m not listening.”
That shirt pretty much sums up the breed.
Because of that, I did not trust Buster to just wander around the RC field. We have deer crossing the runway, plus other critters moving around, and Buster’s brain has a special setting for that.
It is called “Forget Everything Else Exists.”
So I had a lead tied to the rear bumper of the Weeblemobile. I clipped Buster to it, sat down, and watched him to see where he went to the bathroom.
Turnabout is only fair.
I also didn’t want anyone walking out to get their planes and stepping on a Buster landmine. That kind of thing can really ruin a nice day of flying.
Our landlord lives across the runway and has a pool. Since it was hotter than the surface of the sun, they were swimming, which made perfect sense to me.
The landlord’s daughter has a small dog named Toby.
Now Toby is a little dog. About the size of a small rabbit. And like many male dogs, Toby likes to mark things. He once actually peed on a club member’s leg to mark him.
So let’s just say Toby is not exactly the most loved dog around the field.
Anyway, I heard them calling Toby’s name. I looked up, and here he came, running across the runway like he had somewhere important to be.
I was not too worried about Toby kicking Buster’s butt. Again, Toby is roughly the size of something Buster normally watches out the window, like a Saturday-morning cartoon.
Toby stopped about ten feet short of Buster.
Toby started wagging his tail.
Buster went into full GSP point.
At that moment, I’m thinking Buster may not have realized Toby was a dog. As small as Toby is, Buster may have filed him under “rabbit.”
At home, Buster does the same thing when a deer, rabbit, squirrel, chipmunk, or any other small animal comes by. He freezes in place. We call it Doggie TV.
So now I’m slowly creeping up on Buster, trying to grab him by the collar.
The problem is, when I do that at home, Buster takes it as his cue to launch after whatever he has been watching. My plan was to sneak up, get to the lead, and step on it before he could take off.
It was a fine plan.
Buster saw through it immediately.
He took off.
Toby, who apparently was not as dumb as everyone thought, decided this was a good time to retreat and headed back across the runway.
The problem was Buster was not at the end of his lead yet. There was quite a bit of slack.
Now, when we are camping, we put all of the dogs in harnesses. Buster was in his. Thank goodness for that, because I knew there was no way Buster would stop if I called him. His attention was locked onto one thing, and that thing was currently running away on tiny legs.
I am still not 100 percent sure what Buster would actually do if he caught a critter. I don’t think he would hurt anything, but he has never gotten close enough for me to find out, and I am perfectly happy keeping that mystery unsolved.
What I was really worried about was whether the harness would hold him.
The harness is supposed to hold a dog up to 100 pounds. Buster was 76 pounds at his last vet appointment.
I can now report that the harness does, in fact, work.
When Buster hit the end of that lead, he stopped abruptly. Very abruptly.
I was extremely glad he was wearing the harness, because if I had him hooked to a collar, I honestly think it could have hurt him badly.
So that was the first bit of excitement.
Then came the electricity.
I think I jinxed myself in last week’s blog. I said something along the lines of 100 degrees not being a problem because we had electricity to run the AC.
Never say things like that out loud.
The next morning, I got up and took Buster outside. When we came back in, I decided to take a shower.
I have to say, I do love having the conveniences of home right there in the Weeblemobile. A shower, a bathroom, a refrigerator, a freezer, a microwave, air conditioning — it really is a beautiful thing.
So I got in the shower and did the things one normally does in the shower. I got out, got dressed, and decided it was time for breakfast.
I went to the freezer — and yes, I still love being able to say that while camping — grabbed a breakfast burrito, and put it in the microwave.
Have I mentioned how much I love the conveniences of home?
I hit the button, and away it went.
About thirty seconds into cooking, the AC kicked on.
Then everything went off.
My first thought was, “Oh crap.”
I checked the breaker panel. One of the breakers had tripped. I flipped it back on.
Nothing happened.
My second thought was also, “Oh crap.”
So I headed outside to the shore power pedestal to see if that breaker had tripped. It looked okay, but I turned it off and back on just to be sure.
Then I walked back to the Weeblemobile, fingers crossed, and went inside.
Was the electricity back on?
Nope.
At this point, I was at a total loss.
And did I mention it was supposed to be 100 degrees that day?
I needed AC for Buster.
I could have used a little myself.
My flying buddy Bill owns an RV, and I was hoping he might know what to do. The problem was it was only about 8 o’clock, and Bill wasn’t expected at the field until around 10.
Meanwhile, the RV was starting to warm up.
About an hour later, I called Mrs. Weeble and told her my tale of woe. I explained the microwave, the AC, the breaker, the pedestal, the complete lack of power, and my growing sense that I had somehow angered the RV gods.
She listened and then said, “Why don’t you use the generator?”
There was a pause.
Mostly from me.
Because after she said it, I had one of those thoughts you don’t really want to admit having.
Why didn’t I think of that?
I fired up the generator, and the AC came back on.
Mrs. Weeble saved the day.
My generator runs on propane, and I had a full tank, so I was good for the day.
When Bill got to the field, we went over the RV from top to bottom. After checking things out, he concluded the problem was probably in the automatic transfer switch.
For those who don’t speak fluent RV, the automatic transfer switch is what switches the RV between shore power and generator power. When you plug into shore power, it sends that power through. When you start the generator, it switches over to generator power. At least that is what it is supposed to do when it is not trying to become the villain in this week’s blog.
The Weeblemobile is still under warranty, so I’m hoping the repair will be covered.
I already had an appointment scheduled for a recall notice on the taillight warning system, so I called and had them add this electrical issue to the visit.
I am dropping it off on Wednesday.
Now, I have heard the horror stories about RVs going into the shop and not being seen again until the next presidential administration. But I was told they should only have it for a couple of days.
So I have my fingers crossed that the Weeblemobile goes in, gets fixed, and comes back without entering the Twilight Zone.
Because with this RV life, apparently the adventure does not stop when you park.
Sometimes, that is when it really gets creative.