Reflections from our trip to Lake George:
I imagine Dennis to be bleeding from a slow healing wound. We’ve performed surgery on the most critical parts, but as we await the next operation, he continues a slow, but steady drip. On the other hand, I really can’t understand how he’s still leaking brake fluid when we’ve completely replaced the brakes. Excuse my manners. Let me introduce you to Dennis (the Menace), our not-so trusty truck. John is learning how not to push him, which is causing a much smoother ride with less stops going into limp mode; however, every slight hill still causes him to sputter and gasp for gas before either regaining his momentum or deciding he just can’t muster the energy to keep going.
Dennis’ Menacing History
Dennis has been a crazy enigma to all the mechanics. He’s really an over-sized beast and most of them won’t even look in his direction. His size and weight exclude him from most regular car lifts (the first time I wrote this sentence, it autocorrected to “cat” lifts and I just couldn’t help but think of Patches - sorry, Mere 😉) and his engine also purrs to much more expensive repairs by specialized surgeons trained in diesel repairs.
On John’s fateful return to MD with the RV, he first went into limp mode in the mountains of W Va. Frankly, it’s probably best I wasn’t with John during that trip because his attitude towards everything is always “chill,” while my mind, laced with anxiety, runs through a thousand scenarios and outcomes. The roadside mechanic who met him as he was pulled over with this big rig on the side of a tortuous road up a mountain assured him that it was all a problem with the fuel injectors which should be covered by warranty. Further, he’d be happy to stop by our house later that week to fix it.
There was also the fateful parking of the RV. As I mentioned, it had been raining so there was a lot of mud. Dennis got stuck in the neighbor’s muddy yard and we tried everything to get him out (hand cleaning the mud from the wheels, planks, rocks, and mulch under the wheels for traction). Guys, there were two and a half hours of mud. Yuck. Finally, a friendly RV stranger/neighbor offered to tow us out. Everyone was puzzled that our dually couldn’t get itself out of the mud.
The mechanic couldn’t stop by after all with the craziness of the shut down. By the time we contacted our regular mechanic, the code had disappeared. Dennis was picked up, but then had to be transported further away to a garage within the small chain that had a lift that could handle Dennis. Our mechanic believed the issue was better explained by a software update, not covered by the warranty, so we proceeded with the most expensive “software upgrade” I’ve ever encountered. Our truck was returned home and continued to drive perfectly (as it had previously when not hitched to our trailer).
If you’ve read my first post, you know the backstory of Dennis across our first few weeks on the trip - limp mode, burning through the brakes (which could have been so dangerous if we hadn’t installed the fancy additional brakes on the trailer), stuck on the highway and stranded in the middle of nowhere for two weeks waiting for repairs. During a casual conversation about our headaches with Dennis, John’s co-worker mentioned that our brake issue likely accounted for our stuck-in-the-mud incident. The local dealership concurred and added that it was most likely Dennis’ brakes remaining constantly clenched like a constipated toddler who can’t master their body or the timing of their bowels.
The mechanic in Erie figured out the actual problem by hitching to a large piece of equipment, but our warranty company would not work with him and the Ford dealerships had waits that were over two weeks long.
So we made an appointment for our first morning in Lake George. We learned immediately that Dennis would be undergoing major surgery. This is like a heart transplant. They have to move a bunch of not as important stuff out of the way to get to the main event. Like a three day, take apart the whole front cab to get to the part that’s not working right with the hope of a new life. Dennis is getting the added bonus of a face lift with his surgery. As they take apart the cab, the foot runners and front grill will be removed. It’s cheaper to leave off the front grill, which the mechanic said is only really used to move cattle. Since owning a ranch is not on our list of future dreams, we are going to shave a little of that tough exterior and let Dennis look more attractive. As an aside, I’ve always thought that it’s a travesty that ob/gyns don’t take a similar approach during c-sections. If they are already down there doing the heavy lifting, it just feels like a little tummy tuck would go miles for a new mother’s self esteem.
The leaking brake fluid turned out to be a simple twist, a remnant of the brake replacement as it’s hard to tighten all the parts perfectly on this type of an animal. I am so glad that real doctors are more precise when replacing things like hips. Can you imagine going back in to tighten the screws because it’s just too hard to see exactly how it will rub during the operation? Luckily, the ABS light was also simply a ghost, mirroring the brake fluid leak. Easy peasy. Then, the dealership dropped a new bomb ... the warranty company would likely refuse to cover the parts for this $6000+ repair without proof in action. They suggested taking our house on a joyride with the warranty inspector to replicate the problem. There are few things as unsettling as living with everything still boxed up/in pack up mode. It may be simple to pack up on a weekend vacation, but when you have bookcases, a full pantry, and appliances inside your RV for full time living (not to mention all those tubs outside, temporarily under the RV that would have to be moved), it’s not so simple. And this particular campsite barely fit us and took forever to park. We waited on edge for two days before hearing from the dealership. The warranty inspector decided to forego that little adventure and approved the repairs. Just like with any repair, the warranty company wanted to put in refurbished parts. We decided to self-pay to upgrade to new parts. We would like to avoid any additional operations.
As you can see, Dennis never takes the easy road with anything, so he caused some hiccups that I simply don’t want to understand, delaying us three additional days. We were excited to be reunited with him Monday, but he, again, had other plans. A couple gaskets were a last minute add to the repair, costing us another day. The warranty company delayed again on these last repairs, then on their actual payment, but the dealership comped us the extra day on the rental car.
Wednesday: Dennis has spent 25 total days in a repair shop across the last seven weeks living on the road. That’s just over half our trip (and doesn’t include the time before we set off).
While they were sad to see “Grandma G-force” go (they wanted a more up to date and kid relatable cultural reference for our rental car), Dennis arrived home to a big celebration from the kids. Even Ginny has missed him. Inside his big torso, the rumbling lulls her immediately to sleep. All other vehicles cause her anxiety and the only shedding we’ve seen to date. A huge downpour began moments later, causing me to wonder if this was an ominous sign of the future or merely coincidence. Dennis is still recovering, wheezing as the air is pulled back out of one vacuum and whining each time he starts until he’s warmed up. These are minor side effects from such a major operation and will heal, as his breathing becomes normal again across the next few days and he stops complaining about the atrocities across the next few weeks, with all this just a faded memory behind us.
Dennis is home, and this time, we hope it’s for good.
