One Long Shortcut

  Chapter 82: The Two-Month Rubber Saga Another Tuesday, another RAM dealership visit - this time to fix the back-door rubber strip that somehow took two months to arrive. I came prepared for a full-day residency: laptop, Kindle, chargers, coffee, and the kind of determination normally reserved for tax season. Inside, it was freezing, but there were free donuts, so I made peace with hypothermia. I met two Travato owners - the fancy cousins of our Solis — and one of them, Josh, used to live full-time in his van during Covid. We swapped stories and he gave great New Mexico tips. Meanwhile, I stayed in the waiting area so long I basically became furniture. Josh's water bottle screams street cred. And then… the rubber didn’t fit. Why? Because Winnebago modified the doors and nobody noticed until today. They glued it temporarily and now I need to visit a Winnebago shop - possibly the one that wanted to charge me six grand for the running board. Delightful. Still, I counted the day...

Chapter 78: The $6,000 Running Board and the $120 Hero Running on three hours of sleep, I dropped Nelson off at work and immediately wanted to crawl back into bed - but no, I was a woman on a mission. A running-board-repair mission. I started with Daniel, the mechanic who changed my generator oil last week. I emailed him photos; he promised to “take a look.” Encouraged, I drove my battered van around town… only to find that two local body shops were shockingly uninterested in my money. Apparently running boards have the profit margin of expired bananas. One suggested a Winnebago-certified place. I hesitated - dealership service departments always feel like they’d rather sell you an RV than help you fix one you didn’t buy from them - but desperation won. To my surprise, the guy was pleasant and said he’d talk to his “parts guy.” Two weeks and several follow-up calls later, I got the verdict:  $6,000 to replace a running board (Meanwhile Amazon sells generic ones for $500… OK.)...

  Chapter 74 : The Great Oil Change Expedition They say adventure begins where comfort ends. Mine began at a mechanic’s shop in Lincoln, Arkansas. The van’s generator was due for an oil change, and somehow that turned into a full-blown expedition. I drove past quaint towns, scenic farmland, and one too many “Jesus Saves” billboards before arriving - just in time for the mechanics to head out for lunch. No problem. I had my house with me. I parked under the shade, poured myself a cold brew, and enjoyed banana-walnut bread while watching a man train a horse next door. Nothing says rural America like horsepower in both forms. When they returned, I got front-row seats to the “Men Under Vehicles” show - three guys sliding, grunting, and emerging victorious with oil-stained arms. A cat that “wasn’t really theirs” kept me company, loudly demanding snacks I didn’t have. Feeling proud of my productive day, I hit the road… until I realized the front and rear tire pressures weren’t suppo...