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"We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." C. Bukowski
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Saturday, October 20, 2012
I was nervous, itching to hit a winding two lane backroad that would land us somewhere in the silence of a red rocked desert near Moab, Utah. But Bobbie had a Ouray County Art's Association meeting she wanted to squeeze in before leaving. So we didn't point Goldie's Bar and Grill westward till high noon. My Corral was not "Ok" (insert disgruntled face here). It's probably just as well, though, because when loading up a brand new (used) RV, there always seems to be enough minuscule odds and ends to keep one grounded. I was antsy in my pants, edgy in my hedge, and nervous in my tummy. But why?
Maybe the jitters had something to do with Goldie being an antique; as RV's go, virtually anything can go wrong at nearly twenty years old. I started to second guess the investment... the expense of purchase, remodel and repairs necessary to keep a geriatric time bomb on life support going.
Daddy, is grandma Goldie going to die?
Well, Mark, Grandma has lived a long, full life... and she's very, very tired...
I felt the weight of what is essentially my gamble, squarely on my shoulders. I imagined explaining to Bobbie... somewhere in the middle of nowhere, "Uh, I don't know, I seem to only have Reverse. When I put it in Drive, nothing happens."
I have this fear of "used cars" and the people who sell them. I don't like buying someone else's misery. I have enough of my own. Even if something's all shiny and healthy looking on the outside, it could be fixing to hemorrhage on the inside. I sold used cars for a while back in '76... to put food on the table. I know what happens. I know you can't tell a "lemon" by it's "peel."
After gassing up in Ridgway (one hundred bucks, Poof!) Goldie was about to have her first real road test, Dallas Divide. It's a mini pass that would put a good trial on arthritic parts. Now I've pulled several RV's over Dallas, and thus, have a baseline of experience to upon which measure "fitness level." Overloaded as she was, Goldie really impressed me. That Cookie Monster of a 460 was every bit as strong as Petroleus Rex's V-10, if not stronger, and I didn't have to use high RPM's to keep speed up. The Old Lady is no Tramp... she has some Torque!
With each mile I became a little more relaxed. Confidence built as I put Old Gold through a series of workouts. As with anything... even new... the tranny could blow tomorrow; you never know about those things, just ask Wandrin Lloyd. But near as I can tell, Goldie's fridge is north pole cold, she's not incontinent, for there are no water nor oil puddles, and she doesn't smoke, so her heart is strong. She's a track star, too, handles like Flo Jo in the twistys.
Knocking on pinion and cedar wood, somewhere in the hight desert above Moab, Utah. Giddy Up!
Mark and Bobbie.