Something stupid under the hood
In the last blog our trip through Colorado was just beginning. Colorado is always interesting for the many mountain passes that offer spectacular views, dramatic climate changes, and occasionally an exploded bag of chips in the closet. Altitude changes everything, especially in a rolling house. For example, we’ve learned over the years to be very careful when opening toothpaste after a tow up to higher altitude, as an air bubble in the container can result in you ending up with a lot more toothpaste than you needed at the moment.
This trip was uneventful except for a strange loss of power when climbing, and another Check Engine light on the car as we approached the Eisenhower Tunnel on I-70. We were at 11,000 feet, but since the car is a turbodiesel the altitude should not have affected the power quite as much as it did. This called for an appointment at the Denver Mercedes dealer, but I also called Super Terry for a consultation once we were settled into our campground.
Super Terry suggested I look for “something stupid” under the hood, so I did and immediately discovered that one of the two cold-air intakes to the engine was disconnected. Our home dealership had just serviced the engine last week, touching this very intake hose. This seemed like a proverbial smoking gun, but S.T. advised having the Denver dealer check it out anyway, just to make sure the problem wasn’t something more serious. The diagnosis turned out as I expected: the Check Engine light was caused by the disconnected air intake, which allowed hot engine air to get in where cold air was expected. The bill for this diagnosis was $132, which I have passed on to the dealer that disconnected the line, for their careful consideration. Ahem. [Update: they agreed to credit us the full amount against a future service.]
There was supposed to be an annular solar eclipse on Sunday evening, but clouds in Denver prevented us from seeing most of it. A shame, as there won’t be another one in North America for many years. We had even built a cereal-box viewer for the occasion.
But our evening was not entirely dull, as we had an unexpected visit from the Zimmer family, local owners of a 1963 Airstream Safari. They were passing through the park and spotted our Airstream, and ended up coming in for a tour and visit.
The big point of coming to Denver was to conduct a site visit of Lakeside Amusement Park, where we will be holding Alumafandango in August. I met up with Brett Hall of Timeless Travel Trailers and we walked every inch of the site to consider logistics such as power, parking, entry /exit points, seminar space, sewage, lighting, etc. There’s a tremendous amount of work that goes into prepping for a big event like this, and it’s doubly complicated when you are basically trying to build a campground too. Still, it looks like we’ll be ready in time. (By the way, there’s a new Wal-Mart going in next door but it won’t be open until November.)
One of the nice parts about walking Lakeside in the heat yesterday was the informal guided tour we got from Brett Hall. He has been associated with the park for decades as the Consulting Engineer, and has done a lot of historical research. The place has quite a few interesting stories. Brett will be leading guided tours of the park during Alumafandango so everyone who comes can hear the tales.
Now that the site visit is done and the car is set, we have one day to do work, household stuff, and school before we head east. Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday will be roadtrip days either on I-80 through Nebraska or I-70 through Kansas. That’s a drive of about 1,250 miles. We don’t have any particular plans or stops worked out along that route, since it’s just going to be a slog if we are going to get to Ohio on schedule. I always feel badly about short-changing NE or KS when we go through in a rush, but long-time blog readers know that we did make many stops in those states back when we were full-timing.
Meanwhile, the phone is ringing like crazy lately, as people with last-minute Alumapalooza questions are popping up. Like us, many of the attendees are already on the road, and others are packing to leave next weekend. Everybody seems pumped, which helps us, because as close in on our big week of Alumapalooza, we can feel rising tension and excitement. Alumapalooza is a great week but also a really tough one for those who work the event. It feels to me like the days before the opening of a musical. Despite all the rehearsals and planning, there’s always a fear that something might go wrong … until the moment you open the curtain and realize it’s all going to work out just fine.