Day #1 - I Fall In Love With A Chassis

A few weeks after we ordered our new motorhome, we received our “build sheet” - an amazing document that lets us know exactly - and I do mean exactly - when and where in the Tiffin factory our new rig will be as it travels down the production line.  It also tells us (in Tiffin shorthand) what will be happening to it at each stop.  Here’s a look (click on the image below to view a larger copy):

After some pondering, we interpreted the first line to mean that our very first encounter with our new home would be on Friday, August 7th at 7:15 AM in the Mechanics Shop where the chassis would be prepped and get some fluids.

Now I must confess that throughout my life, I’ve never given vehicle chassis much thought.  I did not even know that the plural of chassis is chassis.  But that all changed on August 7, 2015, precisely at 7:05 AM.

Art and I had arrived at the Tiffin factory at 7:00 AM and went in search of the aforementioned chassis.  As we approached the area next to the Mechanics Shop, there it was, standing all by itself.  Our chassis.  And I’d never seen anything so beautiful in all my life.

Okay, that was an exaggeration.  But I tell you, something happened to me...I actually got excited about a chassis.  OUR chassis.  Our new home’s foundation.

It wasn’t due to be in the Mechanics Shop for several minutes yet, so Art and I walked around it and around it and around it again.  I wanted to know everything about it.  Even if I didn’t understand it, I wanted to hear about it.  Poor Art...he will be repeating all that stuff about hydraulics and air lines and the DEF tank to me again and again.  It’s a good thing he’s such a patient teacher.

And then it was time for our chassis to be taken under the collective wings of Tiffin’s mechanics.  When one of the mechanics came out to drive the chassis into the shop, he invited us to follow him in and to watch them work.  Now we already knew that it was okay for us to be there, but to receive an invitation from the very people whose shoulders we would be peering over, well, that made us feel a whole lot better about it.

So we followed our chassis into the shop and watched what appeared to me to be a carefully choreographed production as four mechanics deftly dodged hanging air hoses, tools and each other in order to efficiently fulfill the order on that build sheet:

  “MS CHASSIS PREP, FLUIDS”

 Lug nuts were tightened, decorative wheel covers were installed, the chassis was lubed and various fluids were topped off.

Once the mechanics had done what they needed to do, we had a few minutes before the chassis was due at its next stop.  The crew in the mechanics shop were all young men, in their 20s and 30s.  They were all full of Southern politeness and charm and were quite taken with the fact that a couple of folks their grandparents’ ages had sold virtually everything and were going to live exclusively in this motorhome that they had just had a hand in building.

And they also were eager to show us the improvements they felt had been made on this year’s Power Glide chassis.  A quick note here:  Tiffin uses four different chassis to build their six different lines of Class A motorhomes: Ford, Freightliner, Spartan and Power Glide.  The Power Glide is actually engineered and manufactured right at the Tiffin factory and is the chassis that our Allegro Bus will be built onto.  These mechanics were really excited about some of this year’s changes.  I’m afraid most of that went over my head, but Art definitely appreciated it.

Then it was time for our chassis to be driven to its next stop on its path to becoming our motorhome - Tiffin’s welding shop.  Alas, the welding shop is the only part of the entire construction process that we cannot be a part of.  Potential damage to our retinas was all I needed to hear to be totally okay with that.  What we could not see being done was the welding onto the chassis of the frame that will hold the floor in place and support the basement storage.  OMG, we’re going to have basement storage!  I can’t wait!

Then Monday morning, the welders will weld some more, and then - be still my beating heart - the chassis will move into the main production facility where it will receive some of its “guts” - namely, the black and gray tanks.  It will also get a bunch of wiring installed before the floor gets installed and Art is most anxious to get photos of that.

And, at some point, we’ll get a proper driver’s seat...and I sure hope a passenger seat!

To be continued...

Let's Try This Again

Well.  That didn’t go quite as planned.

It had been my hope and my intention that I would update this blog often, documenting our transition from part-time to full-time RVers. 

For various reasons, both real and imagined, that did not happen.  And now, well, now I am hopelessly behind on the blog.

How far behind?

Oh, my...this far behind:

1) We have already gotten rid of 98% of our material possessions.

2) We have already sold our house.

3) We are already living full-time in our current motorhome.

Which pretty much means that we already are full-timers.  So much for blogging about transitions.

However, there are several aspects of our transition that I would still like to share, even after the fact.  And there’s a really, really important one yet to come:  the construction of our next motorhome, which will actually be our one and only home.

In fact, that new motorhome begins its journey down the assembly line tomorrow morning.  And what makes this transition even more special is the fact that Art and I will be right there on the factory floor, watching the entire build.  We have ordered a Tiffin motorhome and Tiffin actually encourages their buyers to be in attendance for the build, to take photos and videos, to talk to the workers, to ask questions, to be involved.

It occurs to me that watching our next home come to life right before our eyes may just be the kick in the keester I need to resume blogging.  Now that’s not to say that all that has happened up to this point in time has not been important enough to blog about.  But this new rig, more than anything that has gone before, really represents the change that Art and I are making in our lives.  And so it follows, to me at least, that the building of this new rig is a sure sign that our dream to full-time in an RV has at long last become a reality.  And that, in turn, gives me a renewed sense of purpose for the blog.

As the construction of the motorhome begins tomorrow, both Art and I will be taking pictures and taking notes and then blogging about some of the highlights of the build.

We invite you to check back often to share the progress of our new home with us.

Stuff, Part I - Mementos of a Childhood

Folks of a certain age and with a penchant for irreverent humor will surely remember George Carlin, the comedian.  He had one particular routine simply called "Stuff" and it resonates with Art and me as we face a supremely daunting yet necessary task on our journey to being full-time vagabonds: getting rid of all of our stuff.

George told us:  "That's all your house is - a place to keep your stuff.  A place to keep your stuff while you go out and get...more stuff! Sometimes you gotta move, gotta get a bigger house. Why? No room for your stuff anymore."

Art and I have been married for over 40 years, which is plenty of time to accumulate stuff.  Lots of stuff.  More stuff than will EVER fit into a 37 foot Class A (that's the motorhome we're currently leaning towards buying...but that's another blog entry).

Here's just some of the stuff we need to deal with before we can sell our house:

- Books (sooo many books!)

- Collections (Santa Claus figurines, minerals, little castles...MANY Santa Claus figurines, MANY minerals, MANY little castles)

- Furniture (a whole darn houseful of it)

- Kitchen stuff (lots and lots of kitchen stuff...many spatulas)

- Lapidary equipment (wanna buy a rock saw the size of a coffin?)

- Family heirlooms (uh-oh...danger, Will Robinson, danger!)

...and last, but most definitely not least...

- Our only child's childhood memorabilia (WHAT?  You want me to just throw away the Valentine's Day card he made for me when he was five?  I don't think so...)

We have our work cut out for us, yes?

Alrighty then, it's time to get to work.  But just how does one properly dispose of 40+ years of stuff?

WAIT!  WAIT!  WAIT!

Before I go any further, I'm going to make an executive decision and change that word.  "Dispose" sounds so cold, so impersonal.  And as you can see from the list above, some of what needs to go is very personal indeed.

So what would sound better, FEEL better to me?  To "part with" something sounds ever so much kinder than to "dispose" of it.  But actually, what I'm really doing is letting go of all this stuff that has had a hold on me. 

"Letting go..."  That's much better.   It softens the blow (and the guilt) just a little bit to think that I'm letting go of a keepsake rather than disposing of it.  By the way, you'll notice that I'm the one who is struggling with all this, not Art...I'm the one who has to work at letting go.  Art finds it much easier.  Why?  Is it because he's a male?  Or because he's an engineer?  Or because he's a male engineer?  Whatever the reason (and I may jest, but I would really like to know), Art and our son Nick are my voices of reason when it comes to letting go of the things that I tend to have a firm emotional hold on.  Many thanks to my guys for their interventions.

Okay then.  Where were we?  Ah, yes...just how does one properly "let go" of 40+ years of stuff?

And what should we have a go at first?

Since I knew that - for me - the most wrenching stuff to part with would be all those mementos lovingly collected as our son Nick - our only child - grew up, I decided they should be considered and dealt with first.  If I could let go of a drawing that Nick had made of me over 25 years ago, then I could let go of just about anything.  Right?  Right?

Well, after some pretty deep soul searching, some brutal honesty and a pep talk from the child himself, I realized and accepted three things:

1)  We simply would not have enough room in our new motorhome, despite its extra storage, for all the keepsakes I had saved throughout the years.

2)  I really only looked at all these tokens of Nick's childhood whenever I had to move them for some reason...I never took them out just for the sake of oohing and aahing over them.

3)   Nick, a devoted minimalist, didn't want any of them.

Ah, I was getting closer in my valiant effort to let go of all this precious stuff.  But I wasn't quite there yet.  Until Art reminded me that all of those sweet little mementos and keepsakes are not Nick.  They are memories of someone he once was, but they are not him.  They are not who he is now.

They are not who he is NOW.

For various reasons that belong in a completely different blog, NOW has become a magic word for me.  As corny as this may sound, what do we have if we don't have now?  We no longer have yesterday, we do not yet have tomorrow.  We have today.  We have NOW. 

That line of reasoning may not work for everyone trying to let go of sentimental emotionally-charged stuff.  Everyone's path to the point of being able to let go will be different.  But since I strive very hard to be aware of NOW, it worked for me.

And so then came my not-as-reluctant-as-I-would-have-thought epiphany: in my heart of hearts, I now knew I would survive letting go of all the handmade Mother's Day cards, the first pair of shoes, the favorite books, the favorite stuffed animals, the favorite little Mickey Mouse tee-shirt, the favorite toy, the lock of hair from Nick's first haircut.

So after one final ooh and aah, a few of the cards and drawings and stories were scanned, the books were donated to the local library, and the shoes and clothing and toys were donated to a local thrift store.

I was even able to let go of the favorite stuffed animals.  Actually, they were so worn and shabby, and they literally had stuffing coming out of their ears, so they were...they were...sigh.  In the spirit of full disclosure, yes, they were disposed of.

What's next?  Well, while I'm in the right frame of mind for letting go of stuff that carries an emotional punch, perhaps I'll tackle the family heirlooms.  Or books.  Those dear old friends, books.

Oh, dear.  I sense I will need another intervention.


  

Behold!  The Cedar Chest of Childhood!

A Veritable Treasure Chest of Memories

Nick's Childhood Flashes Before My Eyes...

 

"Our Family - 1988"  (5 years old, still in his "no body" phase)

Mission Accomplished!

You're Going To Do WHAT?

On July 6th of this year, Art and I returned from a truly amazing adventure in our motorhome.  In 174 days, we logged 10,547 miles, traveled through 22 states and camped in 67 separate campsites.

We came home with many memories, a couple of new tee-shirts, thousands of photos and one really big life-changing decision.

That particular decision began, as many do, with an idea, a "what if" seed that was planted on the Gulf Coast of Texas.  It then sprouted in the Everglades and then grew and grew, watered and fertilized by all the marvelous adventures we were having.  By the time we had reached North Carolina, it had grown and matured enough that we knew we had a keeper.

The "what if" seed/idea became a dream, and the dream became a plan.

The plan?  To sell our house and full-time in our motorhome.

Really?  Really.

Seriously?  Seriously.

Why?  Why would Art and I, 64 and 61 years old respectively, decide to sell our wonderful house, get rid of virtually all of our possessions and live full-time in a motorhome?

Because every single stop we made on this trip of five months and 22 days was too short.  Way too short.  The Gulf Coast, the Everglades, the Great Smokeys, Merritt Island, Williamsburg, Washington D.C., Gettysburg, the San Juan Mountains of Colorado, Southern Utah...I could go on and on and on.  We wanted to stay longer, much longer, at each and every stop, but we couldn't.  We had commitments that drove us forward to our next stop, where - once again - we would have to depart too soon, leaving so much unexplored.

But...what if we didn't have to be back home?  What if we could stay as long as we wanted at each stop?  What if we could just keep on going?

What if, what if, what if...

What if we sold the house and went full-time?

And so the seed of this crazy idea was planted.  And grew and grew and grew.  And became less and less crazy the more and more we thought about it and researched it and thought about it some more.

Yet we wondered...when we arrive back home, back to our beloved house with its beautiful views of surrounding mountains, would we change our minds?

We've now been home for four weeks and I can honestly say there has not been one moment of uncertainty for either of us.  Yes, we love this house, but we love traveling and exploring even more. 

Family and friends who now know of our decision have been supportive and excited for us, yet concerned.  Their concern regards health issues and is justified and appreciated.  Yet those health issues will exist wherever we are - sitting at home or kayaking in the Everglades.  And we know where we'd rather be and what we'd rather be doing.  Yes, doctor visits and medical tests will take a bit more planning, but fortunately, we are not blazing a trail here...the Internet is brimming with resources shared by folks who have aleady been there, done that.

But (why does there always have to be a "but"?), we have so much to do: get rid of most of our stuff, sell the house, sell the current motorhome, get a new (and bigger) motorhome, figure out insurance, decide in which state to establish our legal domicile and try to anticipate any gotchas.  AND try to figure out in what order we should do all those things.  Picture two jugglers...right now, that's us.

And so, the blog.  Welcome to Viking Vagabonds, a blog that will endeavor to document the adventures and misadventures (because there are sure to be some) of a couple of 60-somethings as we transition from homeowners of 39 years to full-time RVers, living 24/7/365 in a motorhome that is smaller than our living room.

Through this blog, I hope to document the various aspects of our transition, as a way of keeping us on track and also keeping family and friends up-to-date.  And if it should, by any chance, help any other folks who dream of going full-time, so much the better.

In closing this first post, we'd like to thank our son Nick for the blog's logo.  He designed it for us back in 2011 when Art and I rented a motorhome in Scandinavia and kept a blog of that adventure.  But it is also perfect for this blog...and the resemblances are rather remarkable, don't you think?  :-)

We also want to thank Nick for his enthusiasm and encouragement regarding our decision.  His support means more to us than we can say.

Until next time...

"For all its material advantages, the sedentary life has left us edgy, unfulfilled.  The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood." - Carl Sagan

"Button Down the Hatches!" Part II

Coming to you from a very rainy Denmark, we're back with Part II of our tour of our not-so-wee-little-motorhome.  And next up is the bathroom: the "wet bath" with a twist (which includes twisting the body slightly in order to gain entry):

The wet bath: as you can see, the toilet, the sink, the shower and the shower drain all share the same cozy space...along with some cupboards and some shelves that are visible in this photo.

Now this is a space-saving feature to be sure, but one that raises some legitimate questions such as "where the heck do I put my towel?" since everything not tucked away in cupboards or drawers during a shower will get wet.

Here's where the twist comes in ("twist" meaning "surprise" in this case).  I'm sure other RV manufacturers have come up with various solutions to the wet bath dilemma, but the manufacturer of our camper van (Defflepps in Germany) has devised what we feel is a rather ingenious one:  a folding shower INSIDE the bath.

Here's how it works:

First, unfold the REAR panel until its magnetic catch secures it in place (in front of the toilet and the cupboards around the toilet, thereby blocking the water spray from reaching anything in that area):

You can just see the "ghost" of the toilet behind the shower panel.

Next, unfold the FRONT panel until its magnetic catch secures it in place (behind the sink, its cupboard and the sink's counter):

You now have a shower booth that will hold you and the shower, while all surfaces that you would prefer to stay dry actually do:

"Mr. Bates, is that you?"

Clever, convenient and yes, cozy.  But whereas we have become accustomed to showering in our little wet bath "cage," there is what we consider a MAJOR design flaw in the construction of the shower: there is no - I repeat NO - shut-off valve right at the shower head. 

And as you can see in the following picture, the handle to turn on the shower is situated exactly right (or wrong) and can be way too easily bumped (thereby turning the shower on) while one is sitting down and...um...conducting one's business.  Or it is way too easily snagged by a short sleeve on a shirt.  Or it is just simply in the way when one is drying one's self off after a shower (this being the least offensive of the various scenarios since one is already somewhat damp…but it is still terribly annoying):

We have tried various methods to prevent this accidental bumping, but we've also wanted to leave the handle still  somewhat easily accessible.  So duct-taping the whole blasted thing was out of the question.  We even positioned and secured the shower head to the floor so that when we did accidentally bump the on/off lever, the resulting water would simply head down the drain.  But instead, the hose would escape its bonds and skitter across the bathroom floor like a wild snake, resulting in wet shoes.

And since this RV is a rental, Art was not allowed to do what he wanted to do (which was to install the much needed on/off switch on the shower head, like we have in our RV at home).  So we decided we just had to learn to live with the darn thing.  We do have a towel permanently draped over the shower head to minimize any "water damage" during accidental bumps, and during the course of our now almost six weeks in the rental motorhome, we have been able to train ourselves to keep a wary eye on the handle.  But it’s really challenging in the middle of the night when one sleepily staggers into the bathroom to remember to keep one's distance from the stupid thing. 

But in spite of the shower wand, there's nothing like having your own shower in your rig.  Right, Gene and Sally?  ;-D

Finally, we conclude our tour by sharing with you some of the other features of our little European home-away-from-home that we have become so fond of.  No doubt these features are available on some American-made RVs as well (we hope so), but we have not had the opportunity to see them.

The very easy to clean looks-like-wood floors

The built-in fan shades for the front, driver and passenger windows...see the following sequence of photos

 

Now the sequence for the front window...

And we really like the clever and easy to use pull-down or built-in screens and opaque shades that are on all the windows, the sun roof and the vents (except for the bathroom vent):

Start with a window...

...then pull down the built-in screen.

For privacy, pull down the built-in opaque shade.

Here's the open sun roof.

You can deploy the built-in screen over the open sun roof...

...or pull out the built-in opaque shade.

Here's the coach door, closed.  Notice all those bins and shelves...RV heaven!  But...

...here's the door open with the built-in screen partially deployed.  Hey!  Where are all my bins and shelves?  Outside?  Okay, that's...um...interesting.  But useful, too, I guess...depending upon what you put in those bins and shelves.

Now the screen door is fully deployed.

And finally, the reason for the subtitle of these tour posts: all the drawers and about half the cupboards have a press-in button that basically locks the drawer or cupboard in place during transit.  We have loved this "button down the hatches" approach:

One more final note (the final final one): as happy as we have been with the camper van, we have been disappointed with how poorly equipped it was by the rental company with the stuff one needs to live in an RV. For example, we had to buy a butane lighter to light the three-burner stove!  Wouldn't you think that might be included?  Also, whereas two bags of deodorant tablets for the black tank were included, we had to buy our own toilet paper.  Couldn’t they at least have given us a starter roll?  And in an earlier post, I mentioned that we had to stop at an IKEA to buy, among other things, a broom, a good kitchen knife, and some dish drying towels.  We've since added a thermal coffee carafe, a couple of coffee mugs, a cheese grater/slicer, a knife sharpener and a decent sauté pan.  If we’d only been renting the rig for a week or two, or if we had planned to eat out more, we would’ve tried to get by with what the rental company provided.  But six weeks in a European camper van is simply too long to go without a decent knife or sauté pan!

But even though we’ve been disappointed with the rental company, we really have been very, very happy with the RV itself (despite the shower wand from hell).  And when it comes time to replace our beloved Lazy Daze (and that day will come, but not for some time yet), I am hoping that we'll be able to find something similar to this in the states.  Maybe Lazy Daze will get back to building a small rig with a permanent bed?  One can always hope!


P.S.  To our friend Jon who had some questions about what he called “guy” stuff: the camper van is made by a German company called Dethleffs on a Fiat chassis.  It has a manual transmission and Art has not yet calculated the MPG (or the KPL…kilometers per liter!).  And I forgot to mention that it came with a wonderful back-up camera.  At first we didn’t think we would really need to use it, but at the time, we weren’t thinking about how handy it would be on all those narrow streets in Europe!

If anyone has any questions about our "not-so-wee-little-motorhome" please send them along.

A Tour of Our "Wee Little Motorhome" or "Button Down the Hatches!"

Family and friends have written wondering what our "wee little motorhome" looks like and how it compares to our beloved Lazy Daze rig back in Solvang.  It has been such a major part of our trip that I thought it deserved its own blog posting.

And actually, it will need to be covered in two postings, which was not the original plan.  I was just about to post the whole thing last night when the last part of it (the tour of the "very interesting" bathroom and then some photos of miscellaneous features that we've really enjoyed) disappeared.  I don't know if it was something I did or if the blog server was at fault or if it was the nissemen (mischievous little Danish elves) messing with us, but it was gone.  So here's the first part and I hope to post the second part in the next several days.  Fortunately, I tend to write offline, so the remainder is already written and just needs to be transferred to the blog website.  But I do have to insert all the photos all over again and that will take a bit of time.  In addition, we've been really surprised at how many campgrounds in Scandinavia do NOT offer Internet access.  Peculiar for such a high-tech region.

Ah, enough of my computer troubles...let the tour begin!


But first, a clarification...

I've been referring to our rental motorhome here as our "wee little motorhome."  But it hasn't felt all that small to us, and in truth, we recently discovered (when we needed an exact length for ferry purposes), that it is a whopping 21 feet!  That's only 5 1/2 feet shorter than our Lazy Daze, so it is not nearly as "wee" as we had thought!

Secondly, a little back story...

When Art and I decided to head to Scandinavia to explore the land of his ancestors, it didn't take us long to also decide that we would rent a motorhome from which to conduct our explorations.  A motorhome is, after all, our usual mode of travel, and we're not only comfortable with it, we love it.

After much research, we selected what might be called a Class B+ in the states (it seems to us like a slightly bigger Class B with some extra goodies).  I was delighted that it had a permanent bed as we've always been curious about how devoting that much space in the already limited space of an RV would impact our daily RVing.  And it also features a "wet bath" but not quite exactly your traditional "wet bath" where your toilet, sink, shower and shower drain all share the same space (a photographic explanation will be given later in this post).  We were curious to see how the wet bath would compare to the bathroom in our Lazy Daze (with its separate shower).

We picked up the rental rig (called a camper van here in Europe) on Tuesday, June 14th.  My first reaction upon seeing it was "Oh, that's cute!"  My reaction now, after living in it for five weeks?  "Can we take it home with us?"

Picking up the RV in Hamburg, Germany

I still LOVE our Lazy Daze motorhome, but this little home-away-from-home has been ideal for us on this trip.  Let me show you around...

Among my favorite features are the driver and passenger seats.  Not only is the passenger seat more comfortable than the one in our Lazy Daze (easier on the back AND more leg room), but both seats swivel to face the rear (at legal opportunities) and can recline quite far if one is so inclined.  They make for wonderful reading chairs.

Next up is the dinette that can seat up to six people: two in those swiveling front seats, two in the bench on the passenger side of the rig, and two in the main dinette bench:

In addition, the dinette has a 12-inch extension that pops up from the bottom of the dinette table.  Easy to  extend, easy to put away...I like that.

Now even though we may no longer refer to our European camper van as our "wee little motorhome," it does have a wee little kitchen.  If not for the sections of tempered glass that can cover the three-burner propane stove in various configurations, there would be virtually no work space.  Add in the fact that we have NO oven and NO microwave oven...well, needless to say, the kitchen has NOT been a big hit with us since we're accustomed to doing a lot of cooking in our Lazy Daze.  I humbly ask that you humor me as I bombard you with photos of the various stove top configurations...I've got to get SOME fun out of this cooktop!

As compensation, there's a tremendous amount of kitchen storage, and the lighting is very well done.  But that's small consolation when you only have three burners to work with.  I do realize that one can do plenty of cooking using just the stove top, but sometimes a gal just wants (NEEDS!) to bake some brownies.  :-D

Continuing our tour, we come to perhaps my favorite part of our European camper van:  the permanent bed.

Double bed with nice firm mattress and great reading lights.

With the less-than-happy backs that both Art and I occasionally suffer from, we know there will come a day (sooner rather than later) when we will no longer want to or be able to perform the contortions necessary to pull the two sofas in the back of our Lazy Daze together to make the bed.  Yes, we do know there are other options in the Lazy Daze for sleeping, but those options are not for us.

Another plus for the bed is that it's been so helpful to be able to go and lie down during the day when I've felt the day catching up with me.

So having a permanent bed, cozy and tucked out of the way of the daily living space of the RV, has been one of the very best things about our not-so-wee-little-motorhome.

And so ends Part I of the tour.  Coming in Part II:  the "wet bath" with a twist, the much detested shower wand and the answer to why the subtitle of these posts has been "Button Down the Hatches!"