Our First Real Casualty

by Rob

Over the last year, as we’ve talked about this trip, and then the final couple months of actually planning it, there have been dozens of things that we wondered about, but ultimately figured ... well, we’d just have to see. Not the least of those in recent weeks, was where we would park the RV each night. We didn’t know how the operators of the motels where we stayed, would feel about someone (me) sleeping in a vehicle, parked in their lot. And if that was okay, would they allow us to plug in?

Happily, over the first ten days of the trip, nobody seems to care if we park there. However, at the very first place we asked if we could plug into an exterior outlet, the folks were quite adamant in their negative response. Not surprisingly, from that point on it became a matter of asking for forgiveness, rather than permission.

Hooking up to “shore power” allows us to run the a/c on that electricity rather than burn up our supply of propane. Likewise for the fridge and a few other things. So ... one of our nightly rituals now is trying to find an exterior electrical outlet where we can discretely plug in.

At the Prospector Lodge in beautiful downtown Republic, Boomer had parked the RV on the north side of the building. Shortly after checking in, my sleuthing discovered a GFI outlet under the stairs on the south side. The only hitch was that the parking situation over there was a bit tight for a small van, let alone our 25’ behemoth. Undaunted, I fired her up to make the move.

Once there, and acting alone, I hopped out of, and back into, our beast four different times to check out the location and clearances to all the surrounding vehicles and the building. No problem (or so I thought), and in short order we were electrically tethered.

Fifteen minutes later I was looking for my brand new, $200 Garmin bike computer. I KNEW that I had taken it off my bike and put it in my pocket. In a routine that has become all too common on this trip (looking for any of a thousand things that “has to be somewhere”), the search was on. Retracing my steps led me to my recent parking exploits. Good news! ... As I approached the RV, I saw it lying innocently in the parking lot where it must have fallen out of my pocket. Bad news! ... It was right behind the tire that it had clearly been right in front of, shortly before. With unwitting precision, I had run over it. A two-ounce electronic marvel versus a ten-thousand pound rolling home. Shockingly, it did not survive the battle.

If anyone ever asks you where you can get a replacement Garmin Edge 130 in eastern Washington, just tell them ... nowhere close. After substantial investigation, there is now one waiting for me at the Glacier Bike Shop in Whitefish, Montana. We’ll be there Wednesday. Rats.