Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Getting to know Teregram

This is Teregram. She's a 2007 Itasca Navion, and that's Daisy driving her.

Carl and I have put 13,000 miles on Teregram in the year since we bought her, but we have never strung together more than 16 days running. After our three experiments in velcro living, all two weeks or less, we are about to launch for four months from Texas to Alaska.

We both have our misgivings, since Teregram is only 23 feet long. Sometimes I have to step outside to change my mind. You can visualize us next time you see a UPS delivery truck. That's about the size of our home on wheels.

In the first year of ownership, we have committed most first timer errors. I will include some of my earlier RV journals for your amusement. Of one thing I am certain : we have not broken everything there is to break.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008


Carl and I do the MS 150 from Houston to Austin with a team of about 25 people. We start from a Katy church to avoid the massive crowds of 12,000 riders headed west at 7 am. One problem with a private start has been eliminated by me driving the RV as support vehicle. Everybody needs to use the bano before they head out. And I am happy to oblige...it's for a good cause.

When I tell people I bought an RV, they ask me if I saw the Robin Williams movie, "RV", and they grin. I know what they are thinking. They are visualizing the dump site fiasco scene.

In our family, I take care of the dump duty. I was elected Vice President last year. I have rubber gloves at the ready. One year into RV'ing, I've never had any problems with dumping. Until the MS 150.

After a weekend of facilitating the ride, I was ready to get rid of all the crap, so to speak. I pulled into Bastrop State Park, hooked up, and pulled the black water valve.

Merde! The hose came loose and I was dumping do-do everywhere. I shut the valve and screamed. "Oh my gosh, there's crap everywhere, and it's not even mine!"

Carl came running. He watched, but he didn't step right in to solve the problem as he often does.

"I've created an environmental spill!" I shouted.
"Maybe you should report it" he suggested.

I hosed off the concrete pad, myself and the RV, re-attached the drain, and finished the job. Thank heaven for rubber gloves and rubber shoes. Then I removed every stitch of clothing, washed with hand sanitizer, and put on fresh clothes.

I know just how Robin Williams felt. This would happen the one time I wasn't sure who did what in my little bathroom.