Talk about dumb . . .
This morning after coffee I put Bridget and Spike in their suits and we take a little walk.
It’s one of those mornings when one says out loud without thinking, “What a beautiful morning!”
The three of us wander from one flower to the next, babes in the woods, happy as can be, frolicking like Winnie the Pooh and friends.
Until we realize we’re lost.
Oh, sh*t. This is not good. This is bad. Very bad. The more we try to find home, the more lost we become.
And, of course, I’m wearing the wrong shoes for this kind of crisis. No compass. No water. Just me, a camera, and two rat terriers on leashes.
I realize that the terrain we are stumbling around on is becoming more and more difficult and unfamiliar. Tall Ponderosa pines and ridges block any chance of seeing very far. Figuring out the compass points from the sun’s position is no help because I don’t know what direction is right! Time to start using my head.
“Okay, guys. This is what we’re gonna’ do. See that ridge with no trees on top? We’re gonna’ climb that ridge and see where the heck we are.” Bridget looks unsure. Spike looks weary. “C’mon, let’s do it!”
We trudge up and up and up.
My heart pounds. Spike refuses to go another step. I sit on a log in the shade and we rest. We climb, rest, climb, rest, climb . . . until finally we’re at the top!
No sign of the campground but there’s the interstate down there!
And also the frontage road alongside it. The interstate goes over a bridge which I don’t recognize. Well, it’s a long way off, but in this situation, the known is better than the unknown. We could walk in circles all day until dark.
We climb down the ridge in the direction of the interstate.
I’m careful to keep the shadows of the trees extending away to our left. Eventually we come to an old two-track, barely visible. We follow it, and all the while I’m keeping oriented to the direction toward the interstate. A pole fence appears. I consider it.
This could be a good thing or we could follow that fence in a big rectangle and end up right back here.
We press on. I notice pieces of blue plastic in the shape of diamonds nailed to trees about every 50 feet. Hmm . . . maybe a trail? We’ll follow it.
Bridget and Spike pant with tongues hanging out, but they keep up with me.
Darn! I haven’t had anything to eat since last night. Please, blood sugar, stay normal. We startle a deer. Away it goes in high, graceful bounds.
I see something white.
YES! It’s the roof of a fifth wheel! Civilization! We get to LIVE!
I don’t recognize the dirt road. Nobody’s home, but there’s a dog dish of water outside. Spike and Bridget lap it up. Just as I’m about to break into one of their water containers, the owners drive up.
Tom gets me a bottle of water and drives me and the crew back to the campground. Boy, is it good to see home!
Later I figure out that we walked all the way into the next canyon to the south. I always thought people who let themselves get lost in the woods are dumb. Now I’m convinced they are.
Okay, about the air conditioner in the PTV . . .
I know, I know. That’s a pretty jarring transition. Look, if you’re gonna’ read “RVSue and her canine crew,” you’ve got to hang on for the ride. Anyway . . .
I find the PTV’s manual and look up air conditioner and fuses. The floor console fuse block is located under the driver’s seat. The diagram in the manual shows fuse #9 is for “Climate Control 1.” Fuse #10 is for “Climate Control.” Oh, that’s clear. Thanks for the descriptive terms. Fuse #1 is for “Spare.” Okay! I can do this!
There’s also the engine compartment fuse block with #54 fuse being the relay for the air conditioning.
I’m going with the floor fuse block first. I get the block open and discover the spare fuse isn’t there. Of course. It doesn’t matter anyway because I can’t get the tiny fuses to come out. To heck with this. I’m going to take the PTV to a regular auto repair shop and ask in my sweetest granny voice if they’ll replace the bad fuse for me.
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THANK YOU, RVSUE SHOPPERS! You can hitch up, find your way around the North American city of your choice while your dog sleeps in his bumper bed, do some drive-by shooting with your air gun, and at the end of the day, cook comfort food on your Weber grill, using drip pans to minimize the mess. Sound like fun?
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