Sick bay

The good news is that we got our coach back from the dealer the very same afternoon.  The bad news is that they didn’t fix a frigging thing.  A convenient thunderstorm revealed that our window still leaks.  And the left rear leveling jack, which wasn’t fully retracting before being serviced, wouldn’t retract at all this morning.

Yup.  Two days after being “fixed” the jack went down, and stayed down, rendering the rig immobile.  Fortunately, this problem yielded to the same prescription that seems to work for most of life’s troubles: a two-by-four and a crowbar.  Shannon supplied the muscle while I stayed inside pushing little buttons.  My button-pushing prowess paid dividends, though, as we eventually coerced the jack back into place, allowing us to make a second trip to the dealer.

Naturally, we couldn’t recreate the jack problem for the mechanics and everything works just peachy at the moment.  It’s magic.  I was, however, able to demonstrate the leak and the dealer agreed to replace the window, when one arrives, in three weeks, maybe more.  Who knows?  We’re not going to wait around, although we won’t be venturing very far since a return trip to the dealer awaits us.

It feels like we’ve failed to achieve escape velocity and we’re stuck in orbit around upstate New York.

Which is true, because as I understand it, they used to build motor homes like complete crap.  The quality is much better now, but I still think it’s rare to get one without any problems whatsoever.  And so it is with ours.  We’re back in New York trying to get some kinks ironed out at our dealer.  It’s mostly small stuff, and we hope to be back on the road shortly.  While our rig is in the shop, Shannon, our ferocious feline, and I are bunking down in my old room at my parent’s house.  It’s funny how things work.  I spent the better part of my adolescence trying to get a couple of girls in that room with me . . . now another childhood dream fulfilled.