Posts Tagged ‘rv tips’
Airstream is but a tiny, shiny star in the RV universe—most are SOBs (Some Other Brand). ‘Streamers I recently polled guesstimate that Airstreams comprise only one to three percent of the market, both new and old.
As it was held in my backyard (Redmond, only thirty minutes from Bend), I dropped in on “The Rally” (sans DWR…no aluminum allowed*), the premier annual RV gathering, to see how the other (more than) half lives.
It looked kinda fun, if you have a White Box.
I like the Airstream factory-issued Owner’s Manual that came with the DWR: the uncluttered layout, the clean language, the Euro-style cover. But, as it must be, it’s a dry read, and sometimes raises more questions than it answers.
Rich Luhr’s compact Newbies Guide to Airstreaming presents everything—literally—that you need to know before setting out on your shakedown cruise in a personal and friendly fashion, like a calm and trusted friend, patiently answering all your idiot questions one by one with expertise, respect, and a touch of humor.
It doesn’t fold but for Christmas I received the MyPressi TWIST Easy Elegant espresso maker, which claimed to change how and where I will enjoy my delicious espresso and espresso-based beverages, as it is “perfect for home and office”. Somehow they overlooked its most obvious application: for use in the Airstream.
Producing “perfect crema every time”—I suspect that’s the beige foam at the top of the coffee—the unit uses pressurized cartridges (the ones that make carbonated water from a seltzer bottle) in lieu of external power, and dispenses single or double shot extractions. A separate “frother” turns hot milk into a fake-steamed latte lather.
Preparations for Summer Road Trip 2010 are in full swing. We back out in twenty one hours but we’re stress free; the process is down to a science (and we only have 16 feet of Airstream to pack and tow away).
Resources abound for helping you ready your rig and a person could go checklist crazy. We maintain only two: a limited supplies list (including necessities like “presto log” and martini olives) that resides in the RV Companion iphone app, and a by-the-book hitch up and go procedure. (Don’t want to get sloppy even though we know the drill by heart.)
Though Ralph has the Wally Byam Caravan Club in his bloodstream we knew virtually nothing about it when we bought the DWR and fell awkwardly into membership in 2007. Now, with one week to prepare ourselves for the spectacle that will be the WBCCI 53rd International Rally—our first official rally as members—procrastination must end. It’s time to apply our Big Red Numbers.
Among the many annoyances at the unforthcoming WBCCI website is no official explanation of the history of these numbers or what point they practically serve today, sixty years since the club was founded. Most members surmise that their purpose is threefold…
Dinnertime in western Oregon and Washington while camping with the DWR means huddling inside, out of the wretched weather, preparing meager, unobtrusive meals in the tiny galley, and smelling wet dogs drying by the floor heater. Roll east of the Cascades though, where skies are clear, and the great outdoors becomes your dining room. Time to barbeque.
Storage within the trailer remains on a miniature scale, so we ‘stream with the HotSpot Notebook Portable Charcoal Grill.
The language of Twitter is humiliating. “Tweet me”; “I tweeted”; “Guess what, Tweeple?” (It’s for a similar reason that I don’t patronize Burger King. I can’t tell another person that I need a “whopper”.) Despite this, I love and depend on Twitter, and mercifully, most users have grown tired of thinking up new words that begin with “tw”.
I get it that a vast population considers Twitter to be pointless, narcissistic and time-consuming (the latter it indeed is). Opting out is a viable choice. Sometimes even regular tweeters (see? how idiotic is that) have difficulty conceptualizing its practical benefits. But if you travel, Twitter is an invaluable tool.
The inn was full near Glenns Ferry, Idaho. We were unaware that the Three Island Crossing was taking place, the annual (and this year, final) reenactment of (yes) the Oregon Trail settlers struggling to cross the dangerous Snake River with their wagons and horses. Every RV park for miles was full: the state park, Power Pop Campground, everything. (“Power Pop”, that cracked Ralph up. “Is that next to Speed Metal RV Park? Across from Hair Band KOA?”)
We met Stan, the caretaker of Carmela RV Park, who took pity on our ignorance and graciously offered us a place to hook up in the parking lot of Carmela Vineyards, right next to the vines and tasting room.
Ripley required only minor first aid after stepping on the cactus but Ralston, age ten, inconveniently fell ill with some kind of undiagnosable ailment the day we left and appeared to be at death’s door during the entire first week of our trip. After consulting vets in three states he was eventually back to what passes for normal. We kept him hydrated and cool along the way with the help of this special mat and bandana.
Soak the mat in water to activate the “cooling crystals”, then plop it down as a place to ride in the car or rest in the shade.
The first day of our two-week summer road trip—my birthday—began with a stunning sunrise drive through the Gorge. With the fog lifting at the base of Beacon Rock and sunlight shining on The Bridge of the Gods in the distance, it was “like those romantic paintings from 1815,” observed Ralph. (By contrast, seconds later we drove past what looked exactly like a human body wrapped in a bag by the side of the road. “Somebody has probably called that in,” mused Ralph. We kept driving.)
For a few hours we motored along in peace. Ralph kept fiddling with the dashboard gauges, appalled at the dismal gas mileage (we should have thought about that before loading those cases of Diet Coke and near beer in the back). Then, it happened.