Tomorrow will be the day that Deb’s cousin comes over to help me sort the Ernie-to-Mercy electrical connection. The brief plug-in test I conducted the other day was a failure, but simply saying “it doesn’t work” wouldn’t be fair to him and it wasn’t good enough for me, so this morning I dug a test probe out of my toolbox and started poking around.
The first thing I did, with Deb’s help in the driver’s seat, was to check the seven-blade connector on the back of the bus. Using the four-way flashers as a test, I found power pulsing properly at two pins. Plugging the cable into the bus and checking the other end, I got the same signal at two of the six pins.
I connected the other end to the Jeep, making sure to insert the plug completely, and voila — Mercy’s hazard flashers commenced a-flashin’.
The next step was to check the turn signals independently. Sure enough, they worked correctly. Ditto the running lights.
The Jeep’s brake lights, however, didn’t respond.
I disconnected the cable from Mercy and touched the probe to each pin while Deb pressed the brake pedal. I got power, but at the wrong pin. It appears that Ernie’s connector is wired wrong.
That’s where I stopped today. Correcting the problem should be pretty straightforward. We’ll tackle it tomorrow.
We have new neighbors all around us in the campground. A number of them have stopped by to compliment us on the unabashedly pro-American “ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ” flag we have hanging from the side of the motorhome. We’ve enjoyed great conversations with all kinds of folks, especially those of like mind — and, to our delight, they’re in the majority here.
A family of five pulled their Super C into a site down the way from us late yesterday. We first got to talking because, quite frankly, the dad has long gray hair like mine. Common ground comes in all shapes and sizes.
The mom spoke with what I judged to be an eastern-European accent. While Deb and I were sitting outside this afternoon, she paused to talk with us awhile.
Turns out she’s Russian by birth and has been in this country for 13 years. As she spoke, what became clear to us — and I’ve heard this often from legal immigrants who came here after living under socialist, communist and otherwise repressive regimes — was her appreciation of America.
She also displayed an ability to recognize The Real America when she sees it.
“Everyone smiles here,” she said of southern hospitality.
This woman’s enthusiasm for her adopted country shames most who were born here. We should take her example — and take a lesson — and realize how fortunate we are to be American by birth.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free,