Trouble in Motown

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Well this was unexpected.

So my first work trip went smoothly and I was back in Boston, about to board my commuting flight (as a passenger) to Detroit.  It was getting pretty late; my flight was scheduled to land at 10:30PM.  We obviously don’t have a groove yet with respect to getting me to/from the nearest airport when I work, so we’d been discussing how to go about it.  I’m not crazy about the idea of loading the kids into the car to come get me if there’s another option.  This time, however, Tacco had some things she wanted to do with the kids in Detroit, so she offered to hang out a bit later and come swoop me at DTW (you’ll have to excuse me, I tend to use airport codes a lot).  Sure, I thought, why not.

Things started going south when I got a text from Keeper telling me that mom was having a problem with the car — “the clutch is stuck.”  Stuck? Wait, so she can’t drive? “no, it’s OK now, she pulled it out.”  Um, what???  Unfortunately I had to board the plane, so we went into a comms blackout after a few more short, confusing texts, but not before I was able to make contact with Tacco and ensure she was comfortable driving the car, even though I wasn’t liking the sound of things at all.  I far prefer texts to phone calls, but sometimes they just don’t convey things well.

The next text I received, while airborne, and here I need to revisit this idea that I’m having difficulty imagining how we managed to do anything at all before cell phones and texts and in-flight wifi… anyway the next text informed me that the car was completely dead somewhere in Detroit with just about everything I hold most dear in it.  Immovable.  Clutch will not engage.  What’s more, and this was a confusing set of data, particularly since I was trying to put it together via clipped texts in the air while Tacco had her hands beyond full with the kids on the side of the road, the car evidently had been “braking by itself” and had died a few times before giving up the ghost entirely.  Now, if you read some of the other posts you might remember that I had ventured solidly out of my wheelhouse to install a supplemental braking system in the Outback whose job it was to physically apply the brake pedal, and had been patting myself on the back for a job well done.  And now I’m told that my family is stranded somewhere in Detroit with a car that not only had a worthless clutch, but was braking by itself.

This is bad.  Potentially really really bad.  Yet it made no sense.  There’s no connection whatsoever between the clutch and the braking system, how in the world is it possible that they both failed at once?  I kept getting drawn into that rabbit hole while trying (still in flight) to deal with the most important thing, which was to figure out how to get to them.  Tried to make a rental car reservation but the website said they all closed at 11, and we were slightly delayed.  I wasn’t going to make it.  I could Uber to them, but then what?  I’d been texting Keeper with all my questions since TC was busy, but he started answering cryptically and then not at all.  I learned later that he became suspicious when I was asking so much about where they were, and thought someone may have stolen my phone and was trying to get their location.  Excellent, Keeper, love the line of thinking, but I’m sure you could’ve come up with a way to verify my identity…  After getting their location from Tacco, I booked them a hotel room nearby, or so it looked on Google Maps, thinking they could just walk there and get some sleep and I’d deal with the car.  Turns out it was 2 miles away.  And shoot, those brakes!  How?!?

I could go on and on about the mental spinning gears and the chaotic way everything kept unfolding, because it kept going and going and going, but I’ll skip to the end, which was that I finally landed, managed to get a rental car and get to them after all, the USAA towing service took our car to a local mechanic, and we drove back to the campsite, thoroughly exhausted, pulling in at about 1:30AM.  Everything else could wait until the morning.  And once we were actually able to discuss it, we solved the brake/clutch mystery — there was nothing wrong with the brakes.  It was all clutch.  Relief.

Although, while I was relieved to have things settle out, it was clear that we were facing our first semi-major forced change of plans.  We’d planned to drive to either Traverse City or the Upper Peninsula (“da U.P.!”) in morning, now we were stuck in Detroit somewhat indefinitely without a guaranteed place to stay.  We do have family near Lansing, but that’s even farther away from the car and the airport (rental car return) and let’s just say we haven’t yet reached the level of comfort to rise to a Christmas Vacation level of imposition.  “Hey!  You don’t mind if we drive up today and park our RV and car in your driveway a while do ya?”  Though we may get there…

Final thoughts on this one.  We got off light.  Things never spun off into extremis, but I was beginning to be able to see it from where we were.  One dead cellphone to shut off comms, a less auspicious place to break down, more serious equipment failure, severe weather, an actual accident…  it’s making us think about applying a bit more forethought and “what if?” planning to our times when the two parents are in different parts of the country.  You know, like we used to do before we counted on all our “stuff” working as advertised and being able to contact anyone and everyone instantaneously.  Whether we would’ve even attempted this trip without that level of connectivity is another question altogether.

 

 

And Flight goes to do that pilot thing…

Dawn Patrol to Michigan, iPhone navigation notwithstanding, presented a different set of challenges for those who didn’t immediately fly out to Boston to start a work trip.  The whole departure evolution has been a bit surreal – we’re actually doing this trip after years of talking smack about it.  !!!  Maybe the hypnagogic aspect was compounded by the few hours of sleep I managed in the days prior to our actual departure.  Flight had a quick turnaround in the Detroit area (no kidding, 30 minutes to check into the campsite, disconnect and ready the TOAD to drive, back Davista in, level, and plug her into the site’s power supply (but, alas, no fresh water), before changing clothes, confirming suitcase contents, and getting all five members of our flight team into the car to go to the airport).  We managed to accomplish the whole checklist to get set up at the Holly Recreation Area State Park, a lovely spot to break in the solo adventure, and get Flight to DTW for an on-time departure.

A professional pilot of 26 (?!) years, Flight has jumped into Davista’s manual with both feet and crawled all over (and under) our new landcraft becoming well versed in all her operating systems, upping his game in fixing each piece of gear that breaks while in transit.  I have not, um, made that educational process a priority – I was busy making face care products and duvet covers – and was woefully unprepared to assume command of Davista, even while she was docked at the pier.

I had a momentary surge of panic as we pulled away from the Delta curb.  Maybe it was the lingering suggestion Flight made before we left Holly.  Upon noticing our fresh water tank was only 1/3 full, he offered: “You can just pull around the loop and connect to the fresh water source a few campsites back to fill the tank.  Keeper can show you how to do it.”  Um, no.  I think the first time I take Davista for a spin, especially one that involves picking our way through a camp site, and top anything off (how many tanks do we even have?!), I probably shouldn’t be supervised by only our 11 year old, as exceptional as he is.

My solution was to buy gallon jugs of drinking water on our way back (totally at peace with that…).  Bandaid applied to that problem…  The next item of business was getting the outdoor kitchen set up.  We have a pretty sweet set-up outside, necessitated by the lack of ventilation near the inside galley stove (don’t need my everything (wardrobe, towels, linens, furniture, etc.) to reek of bacon).  We have a small prep table and a gas drill that is tapped directly into the propane line (one of the first modifications to Davista Flight made – brilliant!).  I vaguely remembered Flight’s instructions to plug the stove in and held my breath as I lit it for the first time.  WOO HOO – and at least I was able to feed our kids.

We spent our days exploring Holly and even ventured into the greater Detroit area to explore and visit with friends.  We were getting into a groove and I was eager to share my growing comfort level with this crazy notion we’d jumped into, until our TOAD acted up as we were on our way to collect Flight from a late night arrival at DTW.  You can check that experience out here…

Dawn Patrol to Michigan

I’ve decided I’m OK with the dawn patrol.  Up at dark, campground shower with no one else around, kids rousted and then allowed to go right back to sleep, and a few hours of driving before anyone’s on the road to get in our way.

One little tidbit we hadn’t considered until late last night was that you can’t just check into a campground at 9AM.  Not unlike a hotel, there’s a check in and check out time.  Oops.  So we tried to rent our campsite (which very fortunately for us was not occupied) for last night, but the online system wouldn’t let us.  A bit disconcerting to get on the road knowing we’d have to do a very quick turnaround at the campground but not knowing for sure we’d be able to park there.  Fortunately an 8AM phone call to the campground rewarded us with a very nice worker (ranger?) who said it would be no problem to set up in our site early and they wouldn’t even charge us.

Here’s what I’m not OK with — multiple roundabouts in a residential area when I’m lugging 50′ of clumsy vehicle.  I made the considerable mistake of using Waze to get us up to the State Park once we got into the Detroit area.  While I’m sure it’s an excellent app, it’s perfectly happy driving you down any old residential street if it thinks it might save you a minute or two.  Frustratingly though (and this is a pet peeve of GPS driving/map apps in general), it doesn’t show you an overview of your route, just the next 500′ or so.  So you get a “hey, if you turn left here, I can save you 15 minutes!” which of course you assent to, then the next thing you know you’re getting rudely gestured at (rightfully so) and scraping the top of the motorhome on low hanging trees as you try to avoid people attempting to get in their cars to go to work.  Even more infuriating was watching the ETA click steadily right back up to beyond where it was before our turn off the interstate.  And don’t even get me started on roundabouts.  I’m a fan of them as long as I’m in a car and I’m among other drivers who know how they work (pro tip: you have to yield to the drivers in the circle.  You do not have to stop.)  But in the motorhome where every sharp turn sends things on shelves skittering to undesired places and you have to think about your turn radius with the towed car and the fact that your tail end swings outward due to how far forward the rear wheels are… it’s a special kind of hell.  Anyway, rant off.  We made it unscathed.  Here’s the route:

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The park / campground is nice.  Woodsy, lakes, trails.  There’s even an “inflatable park” in one of the lakes that I’m hoping the kids will get a chance to play on.

As for now I’m off to work.  I did nearly get removed from a flight today, however, which is a first for me.  Generally commuting is easy no matter which airline I fly on, but today I managed to get the surly gate agent we all dread.  She was quite short with me and some other commuting crew from her own airline, but that was fine.  The situation deteriorated when she decided I didn’t have time to ask for a ride from the captain, who was in the lav right behind the cockpit at the time, and ordered me to my seat.  Things escalated when I explained that protocol and courtesy dictated that I do, in fact, need to check in with the captain and she vigorously disagreed.  The flight attendant was horrified by this and attempted to intercede on my behalf, but that only upset the gate agent further, prompting her to hiss “I’m 30 seconds from kicking you off this plane!” as I walked back to my seat after checking in quickly with the captain.  Crisis averted though, I’m on my way to Portland, and my family is tucked safely into the campsite in the Michigan woods north of 8 Mile.