The jokes write themselves

It’s Day 410 of 15 Days to Flatten the Curve. Deb and I are well, thanks.

We do keep track of major news stories these days, believe it or not. Like the fact that there are 7.4 million job openings in the US right now. And the feds expected that almost a million jobs were added during the first quarter of this year.

In reality, that number was a shameful 266,000.

Wise up, People.


This day didn’t begin particularly well. We awoke at 4:15am to dead house batteries — “dry camping” had become “dark and chilly” camping. We threw another blanket on, later perked a pot of coffee and (as if we had a choice) played the hand we’d been dealt.

Fortunately, the chassis batteries were fine. We pulled in the slide, fired the diesel, hit the Interstate and rolled west toward a whimsical destination an hour away.

Ok, it’s not really whimsical — it’s juvenile. Puerile, even. It’s adults acting like they’re in junior high.

It’s the Uranus Fudge Factory.

Deb visited the place a few years ago and told me about it — in short, it’s a kitschy joint built around every double entendre imaginable.

“Welcome to Uranus!” the staff shouts to each guest who enters the store. T-shirts, stickers, mugs and all manner of trinkets invoke the obvious.

A shirt bearing the logo of “Uranus Liquors,” to name one. You get the idea — and if you don’t, buy some fudge.

We did. It’s delicious. I mean, everyone knows the best fudge comes from Uranus.

There, I said it.

“Thanks for allowing us to pack fudge in Uranus,” the confections clerk said with a smile. And our cashier bid us farewell with a heartfelt, “Thanks for picking Uranus today.”

We left with silly smiles — and Sun Drop in glass bottles (complete with “floaties”), and Clark Bars.

And fudge packed in Uranus.


Back on the road, Deb and I spent the next couple of hours in easy conversation about our options for correcting the electrical issue we confronted this morning (and, as evidenced by dead dashboard outlets, we were still experiencing as we drove).

It’s all but certain that the batteries themselves are the problem and need replacing. We’d like to swap the tired 6V wet cells for four AGM batteries. We’ll have some opportunities to do that in the next couple of weeks, I think, maybe as soon as the next several days.

Ten miles short of our campground this afternoon, we stopped at an RV mega-dealer to see if they had what we needed. They didn’t — no 6V batteries in stock. We continued on to our destination.

As soon as we parked Ernie on our site in this small commercial campground, I connected the coach to the 50A shore-power pedestal, crossed my fingers and waited to see what happened. Within minutes, all of the electrical systems came to life — 12V DC as well as 120V AC. The master control panel told me that the inverter/charger was restoring the house batteries, first at a high rate and then, a couple of hours later, at the expected trickle.

Whether or not the batteries hold that charge, absent shore power, is another matter. We’ll replace them with AGMs anyway, and as soon as we can.

And so this day was another mixed bag of fun and rolling with a complication or two. The adventure, like our education, continues.

Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.

#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath