Road Trippin'

I know most of you are foamin' at the mouth to get on with the exploits of Lucy & Ricky LeAnna & Mark, but I have to cut in here to give you this late breaking news story.

A tidal flood has hit parts of Texas...and yes, we were in it. Well that's not quite true...we were the cause of it.

As we had invited another couple over for lunch this week, we decided we would head out to the local extortionist grocery store to replenish the grub locker. Having spent every hour here at the campground since LeAnna started working, I was looking forward to this furlough, brief as it may be.

The store is only about 1 1/2 miles down the road, so we were only gone about an hour, at the most. Upon our arrival back at the ranch, we were greeted by the sound of running water...from the bottom of our coach. How much water, you ask? Here's a clue...

Keeping her head about her, LeAnna quickly ran inside the coach. I waited for a wall of water to wash her back into the parking area as she opened the door. Not seeing this event was a good sign. I really didn't understand what she was rushing inside for. After all, we had taken Pepper with us. I decided the best course of action might be to stem the flow of water at it's source. So I turned off the hose.

As I entered what I was sure was going to become the new local aquarium, I was surprised to see I was wrong, it wasn't an aquarium at all...it was a trout stream! Yep, it was our motorhome and A River Runs Through It.

"Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by"...OH JUST SHUT UP!!!

This is my HOME we're talking about! I stood there shaking my head. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was trying to think of a way to turn this into my insurance & get some cash out of it. I sighed "The Deep Sigh" and started formulating a plan of attack. I decided to see if I could borrow a wet vac from the park manager. I probably haven't said anything about this yet, but he is deaf. He reads lips really well and his spoken words are really quite legible. However, I was in such a funk, I was probably mumbling when I asked for a wet vac, so our conversation went something like this:

Me: Do you have a wet vac?
Him: Yes, it's in the office.
Me: Great! Can I use it?
Him: No problem. There's no password.
Me: For what?
Him: The WiFi, there's no password on it.
Me: (mentally smacking myself in the forehead)No, a shop vac. (Now pantomiming running a sweeper).
Him: OH! A wet vac!
Me: Yeah.
Him: Yeah, I have one.
Me: Can I borrow it?
Him: No problem. (His favorite saying) My brother has it. I'll drive over and get it...right after I eat.

On the way back home, I came to realize how Charlie Brown must have felt when Lucy pulled the football away. All we could do was watch the water continue to drain away through various seams and joins in our coach. If only it had just drained away it wouldn't have been so bad, but it also spread. There was a 6" strip of carpet along the left couch that was still dry, but I knew that by the time help arrived, it, too would be consumed by the widening reservoir in what was once our living room.

While we waited for FEMA the shop vac to arrive, I decided to put this time to use by tracking down the culprit. I had a sneaking suspicion as to where to start. I knew the trip down here was on some of the bumpiest stretches of road we'd ever been on, this side of Arkansas. How bumpy, you ask? Well, maybe not that rough, but it was enough that it actually caused our DVR to lose some of the shows we had recorded on it's hard drive. With that knowledge in hand, I went to the most likely spot, the DC water pump connection. Opening up the service hatch under the cabinet, I donned scuba gear and went in. Submerging to the very limits of sport diving, there lay the culprit, big as...well big as a 1/2" pipe, really.



The high pressure plastic hose had slipped off the copper water line. I figure, this being the main feed into the house, it should have been putting around 6 gallon/minute. Let's just say, for arguments sake, that it had only been open for about 20 minutes, that's around 3.5 million 180 gallons of pure, fresh DESTRUCTION!!

I sucked all the water I could from the carpet, using the shop vac of course. Then I squished through the lounge and gave it a good sucking again, this time using a dead weasel. Just kidding...it was still alive. We surveyed the damages and, surprisingly, we got away fairly lucky. I had sealed all the wood that touched the floor with 2 coats of polyurethane when we built it, so there was no rising damp evident there. I pulled the carpet & pad in the affected area and hung the carpet over the fence. Since it was clean water, I think we'll be able to save the carpet, with some cleaning. Of course the pad is toast, but pad is cheap. I put the fan on the floor today and got the wood dried out. All in all, for the disaster it could have been, I think we dodged a bullet here.

So, we'll be Road Trippin' to Man Land tomorrow for some padding and etc. I think a couple of days drying time are in order to make sure everything is up to snuff before I recover it. Wouldn't want to get premature and end up with a mold or mildew problem.

So, give me a few days here, & we'll continue our saga...
Until then, Hasta la Winnebago...