Good morning! A rare posting
from outside of Beagle. Let’s see, I
think I left you after bleeding all over the Eastern Sierra’s. (By the way, if you attempted that link but
found it “missing”, it is back; Blogspot had removed the posting for review—apparently
my references to bleeding caught the attention of a certain algorithm. But it is back now for your reading pleasure.)
On what turned out to be my last day in the Eastern Sierra’s,
I received a message from Wurzig that said, “Chassis System Failure, Please
Park Car Carefully.” Oddly polite for a
German vehicle, but stressful none the less.
Alas, as had happened at home a month or so ago, once I stopped and restarted
the car, the message went away. (This
has all the markings of another post in which I do not come off well in the
car-intelligence department, particularly regarding Wurzig.)
But the next time I hitched up Beagle, as Wurzig was
automatically adjusting the height of its rear end, I heard a low growl come
from underneath the left rear tire area.
Time for a Porsche dealer.
Luckily, there was one in Reno, less than three hours’ drive away. I contacted a friend who lives there for a
recommendation of where to park Beagle.
He recommended the Grand Sierra Casino RV Park, located, you guessed it,
just behind the Grand Sierra Casino.
They had a full hook up spot available so I jumped on it.
This actually turned out to be a nice break; the full
hook-up spot allowed me to run the A/C for the dogs while I took advantage of
the $30 “resort fee” and hung out at the resort pool, trying my best to swim laps
around all the drunk people in the infinity pool.
Bright and early Monday morning I showed up at the Porsche
dealer and explained my issue.
“Is the
light still on?” the sub-par Porsche service agent asked.
“No.”
“Well,
there is nothing we can do unless the light is on.”
“Are you
kidding me?”
“No. I checked with my lead technician and he suggested
you come back in when the light comes back on—don’t turn off the car, just come
directly here.”
“What
happens if it comes on at 10 PM?”, snarky.
I was not used to such poor service and clear lack of concern about my
well-being from a Porsche dealer. But sometimes
in life you just know there is no point in going forward; I decided to cut my
losses and call my favorite dealer in Santa Barbara.
Sure enough, Todd said, “Kit, if you can hitch up one more
time without an error, just drive down here and we will figure it out. It sounds like there might be a leak in your
hydraulics and if so, you don’t want to be towing a trailer any more than you
have to.” That’s why they are my
favorite.
Despite it being 11 by the time I cleaned out Beagle’s tank
and hitched her up (without error), I decided to leave for home, assuming I
would stop along the way. But the quick way,
down Interstate 5 for the most part, did not offer any viable stopping places so
we just kept on going. Thankfully, the
last hour, when you get on Highway 46 out of Paso Robles and head west, the
scenery is breathtaking. While I was
gone the vast open spaces had sprouted bright yellow flowers to highlight the
rise of the green hills and I looked over all of that beauty as I caught my
first glimpse of Morro Rock.
I prepared myself to be disappointed in having to come home
early but, in truth, I was relieved.
Life on the road is more difficult for me right now as the blood thinners
tire me so quickly and it is very difficult on River. She has come to the point of waiting for me
to lift her into and out of the car (and Beagle) but neither of us enjoy it
very much.
We pulled in, the Noses hopped out and River did her circles
in the grass while Opus flew from bush to bush, ears back, tail tucked, thrilled
to be off leash.
-K
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