The voice on the Silverado’s radio urged drivers in the Harrison area to be careful this morning. It wasn’t wintry, not even slippery, but dense fog made it prudent to be more cautious than usual. Easing down US 65 from our campground, I could see about a tenth of a mile in front of me.
Technically, visibility was zero. That’s what the voice said. Whatever. Conditions were soupy.
I was alone in the truck, headed toward Wood Motor Company for an oil change. That’s something I can do myself, of course, and I’m sure that Deb’s cousin would be more than willing to let me use his garage for the task. This time, however, I wanted to check out the Chevy dealer’s service department (and maybe make a friend) — soon the Silverado will get a full transmission service, something I won’t tackle on my own.
The advisor I worked with was cordial and helpful. He dutifully offered upsells, which I declined. The bays were full but the customer lounge was empty, so I didn’t have to wait long.
I got what I was there for. A perfunctory vehicle inspection revealed nothing unusual. Battery good. Tread depth 10/32″ and brake pads 6mm on all four corners. They rotated the tires.
I was out before 9am.
I expect that when the time comes to address the transmission, I’ll be back.
There’s been a small leak under the sink in Ernie’s galley, something we’ve lived with pretty much since we brought the bus home two years ago. Repairs have been attempted three times but none stuck. We resigned ourselves to placing a plastic tub in the cupboard to catch persistent drips.
Yeah, that’s been a hassle. It’s annoying.
Away from The Mountain for a few days, we scheduled a service call with the mobile tech who’d fixed our furnace last year. He showed up early this afternoon, joined by his son.
The leak, they quickly determined, was coming from a plastic elbow on the PEX hot-water line. The fitting would need to be replaced, which meant a trip to Home Depot for the part — but since we carry a decent supply of spare parts, assembled before hitting the road last May, I was able to reach into our stock and grab exactly what was needed to make today’s repair. It took less than an hour to put things right.
That was followed by another hour of pleasant conversation. Good guys.
And so went our day here in Harrison. Being more economical with our time and resources these days, Deb and I stay back at the campground unless we have a particular purpose on The Mountain — supervising work, making progress on a project or, like tomorrow, meeting with a contractor.
We’ll get together with our site guy to formulate a “game plan” for what’s next on the homesite. I imagine we’ll run a couple of errands in Yellville, too.
These days we can afford to be choosy about when we travel east. We pick days when the weather is more accommodating of what we have planned, at least most of the time.
That luxury won’t last forever, we know. Excavation and construction on The Mountain will pick up steam. Winter weather can be unpredictable and inhospitable. No doubt there will be days when we’ll need to be there early and stay late, and the weather will suck.
Those are features, as the saying goes, not bugs.
For now we play the cards we’re dealt. We handle business here, and from here. And, for instance, we get to savor omelets and cheese grits (pictured) at Ranch House, as we did yesterday.
Life is good.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB
One thought on “Murky morning”
Comments are closed.