Scipio

Keaton came and got me with a nice-sized F650 flatbed. They used to have four guys but whether it was Covid, rising gas prices or what, it's now just him and his dad.

He unloaded Phoebe onto the slab next to the building and said his Dad'd be by later or bright and early in the morning.

As evening came on, I strolled across to the 76 Station where I met Frazier. Frazier ran out of gas money and since the 76 was hiring, he's now a cashier.

The Baaaahth

A former manager of a wastewater processing plant in Pennsylvania, he comes out to attend Burning Man. He's been modifying a 30-foot motorhome and his explanation of  wastewater treatment just naturally segued to his Nature's Head composting toilet.

My "Veranda" & the Scipio Hotel

Since the "processing" by the bacteria only occurs on the surface, the material has to be rotated. Thus, you'll notice in the picture (in the link above) the crank on the side.

From there we went to a small, rechargeable pump (from Kitchenboss) that screws onto a 5-gallon jug and can remember how much water you got. He'd changed out the shower for a better one and heats his water with a Wadeco water heater. After about forty-five minutes I was exhausted and tottered home.

Between the traffic noise and the kleig lights in the hotel's parking lot, it's alot like Albuquerque. 

Pleading at Tony's & the 15' Box Truck

It's the pedal assembly -- clutch, brake & accelerator --- that gave out. 

Yesterday, before returning the van, I stopped by Tony's Garage and Katie, the receptionist, told me the problem but said she didn't know when they'd get to it.

I wedged my bulk below the dash to look at the pedal assembly; it's a booger-bear to get to and more than I can handle. 

Are We Gonna Be Here A While?

Still driving the U-Haul van, I went to see if I could get the 10' box truck I'd reserved. The woman couldn't find my reservation and though the truck was due back at 2 pm, and I had reserved it for 3, she behaved as if it might not happen and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Oh, well, stuff happens." She tried calling to ask if the folks were bringing it back but no one answered. She had nothing to substitute it with.

When I told of Phoebe's problem, she directed me to one of two places in Florence that does welding. Rocky, at Artistic Fabrications, did a great job, she said, of extending the sissybar on her son's Harley. "You couldn't even tell." 

Thinking I might be reduced to a toothbrush and bedroll, I called a storage place. Lo & Behold! He had a 15' box truck available! (previous post.) I offloaded the van into the truck and somehow -- I'm still puzzling over how it came about -- the guy who rented me the van came in and said I could leave it there and he'd come get it, rather than me taking it to them and him giving me a ride back.

I went to find Rocky, the welder, to see if he'd be available if and when Tony's ever got the "bracket," as the pedal assembly's known, out. There, Joe & Brian explained how Rocky was moving into "the arts" and was busy getting ready for the Coos Bay Blackberry Festival this weekend where he has a booth. As I was leaving, Rocky pulled up and said he'd take a look at it Tuesday after the festival. This was Thursday.

I headed south toward a Forest Road. It's $0.99/mile and the truck might get 7-8 miles to the gallon. It was 8.5 miles to the Forest "development" Road#958. "Development" is a jargon word meaning "main," usually with roads branching off from it. Two hundred feet up from the turnoff onto the Forest Road was a large, locked gate, posted NO TRESPASSING.

A nearby spur went a few hundred feet to a utility pole. Hidden from the road by a dense mix of shrubs, blackberry bushes, and trees, I backed in and began arranging my "furniture."

After Initial Transfer

This morning I spent 2 hours, 36 minutes and 6 seconds wrangling an issue with Social Security. When the last person told me to hold for the next, I got disconnected; It was 10:30 a.m. and I was exhausted. I slept until 2:45 pm.

Around 4 pm a guy showed up and told me I couldn't camp there. I apologized and left. In town, I went by Tony's to see if I could find out more about Phoebe's trouble.

Fortunately, the mechanics were still there, they close at 5 and it was 5:30ish. I explained about my heart condition and how I'd come to Oregon to get psilocybin-facilitated therapy for my death anxiety. I told about declining bypass surgery cuz, not having any secondary insurance, if I died Michelle'd be saddled with a debt somewhere in the range of $40,000.00....if there'd been no complications.

I started to cry a couple of times. I'm not sure why; I don't think I feel sorry for myself, but it's disheartening to have to plead for help. I felt embarrassed by my inability to control my emotions, but the past few years I've worked hard -- with the help of She-of-the-Capri -- to dismantle the facade and accept myself...blubberer that I am.

They said they'd get the bracket out and take it to Rocky on Tuesday. "We'll make it work," they said.

I'll go north to the dispersed camping area and hope the truck has the gumption to get up the mountain; it's steep. Last time I was there I met Eric whose wife is the assistant to the Executive Director of the Animal Humane Society in Florence. Eric said they always need volunteers to pet cats and walk dogs so, along with a bit of sight-seeing, tomorrow I'm gonna go see what I can do.

FÜRTHER!

Neatly Stowed

Epilogue

I passed a hitch-hiker, a rangy-lookin' feller wearin' a straw cowboy hat with a big pack. I thought for a bit then pulled over and made room in the passenger seat and went back. 

Tim had been 16 days on the road coming from St. Louis. The pack weighed around 80 pds, down from 110, he said, and he had a smaller one I couldn't lift; I carried his gallon of water. He was northbound for Washington and told how he'd run out of water on Interstate 5. No one was picking him up so he decided to come over to 101. It took two and a half days. 

I took him to Herman Peak road and gave him $20 and a sandwich, still sealed in its wrapper. Reverting to a time when I lived off gleanings from dumpsters, I'd found several sandwiches when emptying my trash at a drive-up coffee place. (I was a Master dumpster-diver in my youth. Once, when I visited Mom in El Paso and the refrigerator was empty, in two days I had it so full the door wouldn't close.)

The truck made it up the steep road to a turnout that's juuust wide enough to turn it around.

Vandweller

Dates, the calendar kind, are not a forte. God nose how long this one's been in there but you'd think by now I'd have it right. But noOOOooo. Thus, an emergency run into town to get her remaining cards and present in the mail.

We got turned around and down the hill to the highway okay, but when I came out from the post office she bucked and snorted halfway across a parking lot before the engine caught; she was NOT happy. 

Tony's Garage said they had room to keep her and after a few phone calls, Lucky Herrmann had hisself a van.

At the van place I moved my stuff.

Time was Of the Essence

Worthy of note in the image above is my accordion at center top, and the date 11/26/22 on the back of the ensolite pad, the date it was put into service.

We have trouble seeing ourselves, but Phoebe frequently garners compliments. Inside, she's a mix of bespoke wainscotting and bare-bones practicality patterned after the Pinzgauers at Canyon d'Chelly. 

1976 Pinzgauer from:

https://www.uniqueclassiccars.com/vehicles/3824/1976-steyr-puch-pinzgauer

Headin' off tuh hike/hitch-hike the 2.7 miles back to Phoebe, the angina flared, sending me back for the sub-lingual nitro. After some thought, I decided to ask a fellow working on his car for a ride. His Supervisore came out to bid me welcome.

Nova, The Cat.

1,950 Original Miles. The digital readout flickers so only caught first two numbers.

It's new and thus, precious. Not a scratch. A sign on interior wheel-well: You dent, You Pay! I bought U-Haul's usery-inspired extra coverage; a paltry $99.00 compared to what this whole adventure's gonna run.

The lengthwise roof supports are full of holes....to reduce weight? Parked on a slight angle, the back door didn't close smoothly. It's a Coors can with wheels.

On city streets it floats along like a Cadillac; the road to Herman Peak may have bent the frame. As the blackberry canes began dragging their nails along the sides a turnout appeared...where I camped. It's one of the things about Phoebe I appreciate; she can usually turn around. Without the turnout there was nowhere to get The Behemoth rotated.

1st attempt at organization. Sleeping bag in middle. 

Donchyuh jus' luuuUUUV the birchwood panels running the length of the sides. Gives it that '70s "den" look.

I'm thankful I'm not stuck in a motel somewhere coping with dogs, children, domestic violence and all the other entertainments associated with (roadside) indoor plumbing.

At least it's a Chevy. 😄

And cheaper than a motel; couldn't BEGIN to get a motel up the Herman Peak road. 😘

Adjustment Day

Today is the day. I've put it off as long as I could.

It comes on slowly. It becomes progressively harder to get into gear until (yesterday) I have to turn the engine off.

Normally, it means loosening a locknut, tightening the adjusting nut, and retightening the locknut. But this is PHOEBE, *my* vehicle and so, of course, she's different.

This is the third clutch and Daniel, while I was paying the bill, said he thought he'd "found a good one this time." At $1,500 a pop I'd whined about not being able to afford a new one every year; the last two having gone only a short distance further.

Over the years, we're in our seventh, I've consoled myself with tidbits such as the one about how the Ferrari 12-cylinders, with their six carburators, needed almost constant adjustment.

But there've been modifications; her clutch pedal assembly had been fooled with and in the previous installation, when the transmission was rebuilt, Daniel'd removed it, cut the pedal off and rewelded it into what was deemed its original position. (The trauma to my wallet left me unable to recollect even a hint of the cost.) *This* time though, Daniel had located a more robust pressure plate and disk and his posture and countenance conveyed a stolid faith in increased longevity as he delivered the famous words (see above). 

The name of Daniel's shop is By the Book,and it is how he does things. Though I think we have yet to replace the clutch cable, I decided the last time to try a bit of innovation; something he would, I suspect, rarely, if ever, do. 

Rather than further tightening the adjusting nut, I cut rubber washers to fit betwen the end of the cable and its mounting bracket, effectively shortening the cable. And it worked. But it would've been, in Daniel's "book," unorthodox. Looking back in the blog to November 26 of last year, I see it has worked for eight months; not bad.

Today should be exciting. Will we add more shims? Will we simply adjust the nut? Or maybe the car'll fall on me and someone else will get to admire my carefully-crafted handi-work.

But we're in no hurry. It's early, only a little past 8 a.m. There's coffee to be made and drunk. And hopefully, the fog will burn off and the sun will lend its warmth. Otherwise we might have to put it off...again.

The soft, dove-grey, dampens the

nearby highway's intrusive presence. 9:44 a.m.

There's an olde cats' proverb: Never do today what can be put off until tomorrow.

And this olde Spanish one (on the refrigerator in Albuquerque): 'Tis wonderful to do nothing and rest afterwards.

1:30 pm - Begin

2:20 pm Wheels chocked, tarp out, shade reconfigured.

3:20 Raised. Panting hard, but no angina. I work 20 minutes, rest 40. I should finish up (right on time!) around dark, at 8:30...god willing and the Smith River don't rise. 

Extra support...Justin Case

The yellow sticker on the jack describes how to make a DIY nut-cracker. It came with a little toy gun, a tall hat and some other cutesy stuff.

4 pm - adjustment completed. Maybe 1/2 inch? With all the huffing & puffing you'd have thought we were swapping out the engine. But there was no swearing and, best of all, no injury.

HUUUUURRAAYY!! cried the children (nod to Dav Pilkey Jr.)

Portside ding in crossmember.

Sta'b'rd for comparison

4:10 pm - jack out...wheel on the ground. But will it work?

5:30 pm - It did fine at rocking bak-erdz 'n' for-erdz but hitz when she gits het up tha' she gits ornery. Tuhmorrer I'll take her out and find out fer sure. But for now, those teensy sips of Deshutes Obsidion Stout are whut ah'm lookin' for'ard to. And some REST! I'm pooped! (the heart meds and alcohol don't go together; an ounce is max. More than that and I get a hangover like I'd had three bottles. I've alwayz bin a cheap drunk.)

Thursday, the next day: Success! 

Wild Mechanicing Pt. II

See previous post for Preamble.

Around 1pm, prior to jacking, I tried loosening the lugnuts only to discover someone put an oddsized one on the right front and me without a spoon.

At the Autozone in Green Valley we found that not only was it odd but it was cross-threaded. And once the kind young man with a bag of personal tools got it off, there was no way to put another on...the stud needs replacing. 

Back at camp intending to do the brakes I discovered someone had tooken the rocks I collected to chock the wheels. They'd kindly left the 4 x 4 though. This being an erosional bajada, the only rocks are out on the main road where the grader leaves a few.

Back with chock-rocks, I jacked her up to realize I've completely forgotten how to do it.

While puzzling, I discovered a torn boot that looked like it was (had been) protecting the CV joints...WAY beyond my ability.

A call to Tadeo's in Douglas let me know they're closed tomorrow for Easter but they can look at it Monday. 

Thinking to take the scenic route from I-17 through to Alto and thence to Patagonia, I went south to Elephent Head road (paved road with turnoff to Whipple Observatory). Maps led me toward Whipple and FR 149....which goes to Alto. It's dirt and not as bad as some, but more than I want to subject whatever that boot was protecting to.

So now -- at 5:25 -- it's back to Sahuarita for tonight. Then out to I-10, east to Benson, then south to Tombstone, Bisbee & finally Douglas...139 miles.

So much for Wild Mechanikin'.

The longer days are making it easier.

Wild Mechanicing Pt. I

In Europe, I'm told, boondocking is called wild camping. So when Phoebe let me know she needs new brake shoes, I bought new pads, found some rocks to chock the wheels and cut a 4 x 4 to set the jack on. 

When I went to loosen the wheel nuts, I discovered my wrench doesn't fit the odd one. It jus' goes tuh show, yuh cain't rush thangs when yer Wild-Mechanikin'.

Odd Gender-Neutral out

Repair for Personal Satisfaction Machine

  

Automatic Sex Machine

7 attachments

$133.95 (incl tax & shipping)

This popular device is sold by innumerable purveyors on Amazon and elsewhere. I bit on the low price without reading the reviews and was disappointed to realize THEY'RE RIGHT...it's a fragile, underpowered toy not even suitable as a coming-of-age gift for a budding enthusiast. It lasted a total of fifteen minutes...maybe. 

I spent some time going down the list online adding the video below to my review. Hopefully, it'll salvage a few.

Purchased 5.Sept.22 from Fangeriesecret.com. As in MANY reviews, it quit after the 2nd use. Disassembly disclosed the plastic had fused (see video above).

After drilling out the fused part I replaced the original screw with a machine screw, brass washers and locknut.

The Point of Fusion

The other pivot, at the back end of the rod (left of arrow), is better-engineered prompting wonder if the one the arrow is pointing to is planned obsolescence.

Of the seven attachments, two are extensions. From right to left, the one at the far right is jointed and bendable, but very stiff and I suspect not able to withstand much pressure. The next is a solid shaft. The three anglo-colored dildos have an outer layer of very soft silicone with an internal stiffener. The pink jelly is the smallest.

Glasses case

I'd hoped to make friends at the Desert Dominion play parties by offering rides, but it's time to head for Utah. 

As for the power...it is, in my esteemed opinion, low.

Your mileage may vary.