The Road from Pismo. Part 2

The road from Pismo, or should I say the Road from Hell?!? Half way home, the bago is starting to sound a little wonky; like the engine is not happy with the amount of starting fluid we have to give it on a regular basis. The low power on the uphills and the top speed of 60 is telling me this could be a long stressful trip home. I'm trying not to show fear to April, but we're only an hour into our 3 and a half hour trip home and our backup is still in Pismo.

Potty breaks are forbidden as I grip the steering wheel with sweaty hands and an unblinking gaze. Whats that you say, the dogs need to pee? Not on my watch, slap a diaper on those butts; we're not stopping. April can sense my tension and Logan is snoozing so far. If we can make it to a gas station I tell myself, then I at least have access to resources.

We're getting closer to town, in fact we are slowing for a stoplight in front of a gas station. As I come to a stop, the bago decides she's had enough and dies on me. The beads of sweat and dry mouth has me second guessing not attending church on a regular enough basis. I quickly ask for forgiveness and proceed to start her back up with some starting fluid and keep the throttle high. I think the wheels chirped a bit as we lurched off the line and then turned towards the gas station. I bounce over the curb and align the nose to the closest pumps. Before I can even apply the breaks she dies and we coast into position. We're lucky it's the middle of nowhere because the work is about to begin and we'll be parked for a while.

De-greased Carter Carb circa 1973

I go through the fill up, the fluid top off and wire and hose check. No loose connections, no leaks. What is the root cause? It's got fire cause it starts. Its got fuel because I just filled it up. The low idle death rattle tells me I better check the carb. I search some you tube videos for low idle adjustment and crank that puppy up high. I don't have access to fuel pumps or fuel filters, so this is the best I can do until I can park and wait for the Summit catalog to arrive. And now the real fun begins...

Even has an electric choke

Like to wear American Flag jump suits, run stop signs and jump curbs in a 10,000 pound apartment on wheels? Then you've come to the right place. The prayers are about to pay off; we're not stopping unless they're in the crosswalk or the the law is within sight. We're slowing for yellows a mile out and coasting until the last second. Several lights I am able to time just right and my refusal to let the bago die coincides with green lights. I use this technique all the way through Bakersfield, Porterville and to the main streets of Springville. My parent's drive way is a 90 degree turn off of highway 190, which requires a slow and cautious turn and ascension. Not this Evil Kenevil; not when I've risked the lives of my family and two wiener dogs. We're gonna gun a 90 degree turn at a 35 degree incline. I steer wide right and make a hard left, full throttle. The rest is a blur because all I can think about is the bago dying and rolling helplessly backwards into highway 190. Some how we make it to the top of the hill and after talking myself into it, parking it back on the landing half way back down the hill. It's time for some serious engine work. Stay turned for the next episode....

The Road to Pismo. Part 1

Now that we're officially RVers and have the internal necessities for survival and comfort, we agree that a family road trip is in order. The location: Pismo Coast Village. The time; Christmas break. My parents have a trailer they drive out from Springville while we follow them out along scenic highway 58. My sister and her family have a massive five star trailer that on command, is towed into their reserved site at the village. Upon arrival the village is nearly empty, mostly because it's a Wednesday and secondly because it's the off season. We find our site and instantly feel right at home in this new world.

We circle the wagons, plug in and hook up. RV speak for we now have water and power at our disposal. There are ducks and squirrels galore, both to the delight of our two wiener dogs and our bouncing baby boy. The PCV is quite nice, and the regulars have not flown south for the winter. We even get some familiar nods for our retro bago; high marks for the Hawk. The days leading up to Christmas eve are spent with walks on the beach, large camp meals, swimming at the heated pool, chasing ducks and playing 'cornhole' with the family. Cornhole is the bean bag version of 'horseshoes'.

 

Logan's routine is as normal as we can make it, but he realizes there is fun to be had and cheats his way through afternoon naps. We typically find him peaking out the bago curtains half way through a nap, or as we like to call it, adult time. So adult time has given way to kid time but that's just fine with us. We're roughing it; not in a tent and not in a hotel.Our plan is to stay until Christmas Eve morning and drive home to spend Christmas Eve with April's family. We spend a very Charlie Brown eve together with my family and pack up for our journey home.

This is the 'Time to let me out' look.

Christmas Eve Eve with the family before our journey home.