Neo-Classic

March 27th, 2014 by Forrest McClure

Six years ago I wrote about towing with 1985 Chevy Suburban. It was 23 years old then. Now it is 29, but is still not considered vintage or collectible. Instead, it is called “neo-classic.”

Colorado legislated that only cars made prior to 1975 are collectible. Just last year that was revised and now any car more than 32 years old is collectible (vintage). I envy the pre-1975 group. No emissions controls. No emission testing, and they can modify their engines without permission. The only catch is that those vehicles can not be driven more than 4,500 miles a year, and that is on the honor system. The neo-classics are between a rock and a hard place.

We still have to pass emissions testing even though in most cases we don’t use our cars any differently than the pre-1975 group. And before anyone flames me, let me say that I’m not against passing an emissions test. I don’t want pollution anymore than anyone else. It’s just that I feel stuck using 1985 pollution equipment – vacuum hoses, air pump, etc. There are after-market options, but I can’t change any of the equipment unless I first submit and have a proposal approved by the Air Care Colorado engineers. Unlike the pre-1975 group, the neo-classics are at their mercy.

It might sound as though I’m whining, but two years ago I was held hostage at the Envirotest emissions test center for 45 minutes. The employees refused to give my vehicle an emissions test because they thought I’d removed emissions equipment. They couldn’t find a catalytic converter. That’s because it has never had one. And it wasn’t just that they didn’t believe me. It was their attitude. They were angry with me and acted as if I was poisoning the planet. One yelled at me to mind my own business and return to the waiting area. Eventually, they tested the Burb and it passed the test, but even then they were sullen about it and never apologized for the way they’d treated me.

Complicating the problem is that it is so hard now to find anyone experienced in tuning an engine equipped with a carburetor. This year I found one that I want to recommend, The Carburetor Shop in Englewood, Colorado. They rebuilt my carb and tuned up the Burb for a reasonable price and now it runs better than ever. Friendly, fast, courteous and competent – it doesn’t get any better than that.

I was still apprehensive about this years emissions test. I was confident the Burb would pass, but not about how I’d be treated. Once again one of the employees seemed skeptical. His distain was obvious but this time his attitude changed as the testing progressed. He was surprised by the results and this time I wasn’t held hostage.

It occurs to me that maybe my old car is the exception instead of the rule. That would explain some of the attitude. The manager at the Carburetor Shop thanked me for having such a clean engine. The technician at Envirotest congratulated me and encouraged me to continue keeping the Burb in good condition.

Well, I am encouraged. So much so, that I’m looking forward to 2017 when the Burb will be eligible for collector plates.

My 1985 Suburban, "The Beast," with my32' 1986 Airstream Excella.

Going Backward?

October 11th, 2013 by Forrest McClure

Twenty five years ago we visited the Fort Garland Museum with our three children. I was towing a 1986 Apache pop-up trailer with a 1987 Ford Aerostar mini-van.19880600 A few days ago we repeated a portion of the trip and revisited the fort with two of our grandchildren. This time I was towing a 1985 32′ Excella with a 1985 Chevy Suburban. 20131010The Aerostar got about 18 mpg, the Suburban 8 mpg. The digital photo is much better, but other than that, am I going backward?

Fall Trip

October 1st, 2013 by Forrest McClure

Tomorrow, we leave for Albuquerque to attend the Balloon Fiesta. This time, we’re taking two of our grandchildren with us. Actually, they are the reason for going. When we were there before, the one thing we thought of was that they should be there to see it.

I never feel like I’m ready to leave. It seems there is always some little (or big) project that I want done on the trailer but at some point I simply tell myself that what I’ve done is good enough. For instance, I wanted to polish the trailer this year, not to a mirror finish, but simply get the oxidation off and brighten it up a little better. But I haven’t gotten around to it.

I’m going to blame the weather. I did have a timeline for the project the weather here in Colorado  interfered. Earlier in the summer we were in a drought and fighting fires. That turned completely around during our four days of rain. Heather Gardens got nearly 15″ of water, far more than we normally get in an entire year. And it did keep me busy. As a board member I surveyed the damage and we had an emergency meeting. I met with some residents who were in real distress.

For me, personally, the storm came just as I was starting to polish. I was up on the ladder, working a small section just above the back window. I thought it was the perfect day to work. For most of the summer it was just too hot and sunny for me. On this day, it was about seventy degrees and overcast. I knew the forecast was rain and I did look over my shoulder from time to time. But when it actually came, I was caught off-guard by its speed and strength. One moment it was peacefully overcast, the next I saw a bank of clouds whirling and rushing toward me. Wow, I thought, I’d better get things picked up and put away. I just barely made it.

 
And then the hail came!
 And then the hail came!

Sitting in the trailer with the wind rocking it and the heavy rain and hail pounding it, I thought I might be in a tornado. It nearly was. I figured I simply had to wait it out. So, I stopped fretting and watched TV. Of course, the only thing on were weather reports. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone by the front door of my daughter’s house (I keep my trailer parked there). I couldn’t believe it. It was my daughter and she was frantically bailing water from her basement window well.

So, I put on a poncho (that did little to keep me dry) and went out to help. We bailed as fast as we could. I dug a trench to help the water run away from the house and got up on an aluminum ladder in the rain, hail and lightning to clear pine needles and leaves out of the roof gutters. Better I get hit than my daughter. An hour later, the first wave of the four day storm had past. We looked like drowned rats.

035Back in Heather Gardens the ground became so saturated with water that by the third day there was no where else for the water to go other than into basements. Sixty town home and patio home residences were flooded just in our association. The garage in my six story building had six inches to a foot of standing water. Fortunately for us, we live on the third floor. If the water ever got that high it would be time to man the lifeboats and row to the mountains.

We came through just fine, both condo and trailer. But it sure messed up my polishing. That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

Bucket List

April 2nd, 2013 by Forrest McClure

Some people have skydiving or climbing mountains on their bucket list. You know what that is. If not, a bucket list is all those great things you want to do before you die. I only have one thing on mine – grow a beard. No, it’s not dangerous or exciting, but I’m kind of over those things. Nope, I just want to grow a beard and it’s because I’ve never, ever, in my entire life had one. So, here’s how I’m doing.

I think this growth is about three weeks - not particularly impressive.

I think this growth is about three weeks – not particularly impressive.

 

I don’t know how much longer I’ll keep at it. I went for a bicycle ride last week and because it is just now Spring there were few insects out flying about. But there were some gnats and they got caught in my beard. I think that will be the end of it when more flying insects hatch out. I’m pretty sure I don’t want my beard to be a bug catcher. That’s when I’ll shave it off.

In the meantime, I have been doing a few things on my 32′ Airstream Excella. There is a cabinet in the galley that houses a microwave oven and has drawers below and storage above. Between it and the triple wardrobe down the ‘hall’ was a vinyl folding door. I haven’t liked where it is positioned. When we have guests camping with us, the door provides privacy for the bedroom in back, but it closes off the bathroom from the front where the guests sleep. So, I move the door between the bathroom and bedroom. It restricts the ‘hall’ a little, but then the corner of the bed sticks out anyway so it doesn’t make too much difference.

However, that left an unsightly gap between the microwave cabinet and the wardrobes. What to do with that? I thought about putting a rollout pantry there, but the gap was not uniform in width or depth. Installation would have been problematic. Plus, the right side of the microwave cabinet wasn’t attached to anything. The bottom of the panel simply rested on top of the wheel well cover (and was sawing through it). I decided to keep it simple (KISS). Since the gap had to be filled with custom cut pieces, I wanted to keep the number of pieces to a minimum. So, I simply installed two simple shelves. I already know of one item I’ll store there – my laptop computer (in its travel case).

No longe a wardrobe, it is now a utility closet. One shelf filling the gap is seen lower left.

No longe a wardrobe, it is now a utility closet. One shelf filling the gap is seen lower left.

 

We have never filled the triple-length wardrobe with clothing. Not that we haven’t tried, and we discovered that many of the clothes we didn’t wear. In fact, we forgot about some altogether. Later, we’d find an item and say, “so that’s where we put it!” Because of this, I decided a double-length wardrobe was sufficient, and would partition off the third for use as a utility closet.

 Another item that annoyed me was the all-plastic toilet. I recently replaced it with one made of ceramic.

 My most recent eBay find is a lighted period (circa 1988) world globe. It is going to take the place of a table lamp in the bedroom. The table lamp is rusty, the brass coating falling off and because it is 120 volt AC we hardly ever use it.

That’s what I’ve done so far this year.

Lighted world globe with cool Lucite stand.

Lighted world globe with cool Lucite stand.

 

More Balloons

August 9th, 2012 by Forrest McClure

 

Fire in the sky.

Last weekend we attended a hot air balloon rally in Loveland, Colorado. Dubbed the Sweetheart Balloon Festival Rally there were about twenty Airstreams parked in the traditional Wally Byam circle. The hosts are balloonists themselves. They call theirs Serenity.

This was the first time they had ever organized and hosted a rally. By the end, I suspect they were disappointed with the results and even apologized to me and I imagine to others, but there was no need for that. I told them that all the great annual rallies have a less than perfect beginning and that we have to accept that some things are simply beyond our control.

Like the weather. Colorado’s is unpredictable and sudden. One moment the wind can be a gentle breeze and the next can be a microburst. And that’s how it happened. The hosts hoped for all of us to gather in the middle of the circle for happy hour and socializing. They erected some shelters and tables there all weighted down with bricks and big containers filled with water.

It came at siesta time. I’d just laid down for a nap when the microburst hit the campsite. Tables flew into the tents, which then collapsed and bent the frames. The tents acted like kites in the wind and in my mind I pictured them lifting off, bricks in tow, flying across the campground into the surrounding Airstreams.

 

Half the circle in panorama

It is in times like that when people come together. Men, women, and children sprinted from their trailers to the center of the circle to hold everything down, collapse the tents, pin down the tables. Most of those items were damaged beyond use, but the trailers were saved.

The punishment continued that night. A weather front moved into the area with seventy-five mile-per-hour winds just as hundreds of cars were being driven away from the fairgrounds to the north. All that traffic moving through the dirt parking lots kicked up a tremendous amount of dust and the wind drove it through the campsite and into the trailers.

 

Two of my grandsons watching Serenity being filled.

Mercifully, once the front passed us, the temperature dropped and the air calmed. The next morning was perfect flying weather and about twenty balloons lifted off. It was the highlight of the event. At the end of day, we were treated to a magnificent sunset – courtesy of smoke from the forest fires in Montana. Then that night, we were treated to a very entertaining fireworks show.

This was the first outing for my son, his wife and their two children in their new-to-them 1966 Globe Trotter. It was sink or swim in a dry camping situation but together we pulled it off and the best part is that our grandchildren all said they had a great time. I got to visit with old friends, see a really nice and very original, rare, 1961 single-axle Trade Wind and have quality time with my family. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Serenity ready to lift off.

 

My thanks to the hosts, Susan and Von Campbell, for all their hard work – keep your chins up you two, this rally goes down in the books as a success!

Serenity airborne.

 

Solution

July 29th, 2012 by Forrest McClure

We’ve decided what to do about having “two” many Airstreams. We should have done it three or four years ago. We’ve given our ’66 Globe Trotter to my son, Brian. With two children under the age of ten it will be a good fit for his family. We’re looking forward to our grandchildren having that kind of experience.

One couple I know are continuing their Airstream family tradition. Randy & Margie have two children and a ’64 Globe Trotter that Margie inherited from her parents. When she was a baby they used the little bath tub as a crib for her to sleep in. Many of her childhood memories are from that trailer and the annual vacations taken with it. Several years ago at the Denver Modernism Show they were offered $20,000 for it. They couldn’t sell it no more than they could sell a member of their family. It’s their heirloom.

We feel good about passing ours on to my son now instead of selling it or waiting for him to inherit it. This way, we get to share in the start of a family tradition.

Keeping in the family.

 

One Too Many

June 24th, 2012 by Forrest McClure

Last year, I decided that we should either start using our ’66 Globe Trotter or sell it. It sat for three years with very little use and I thought that was a waste. So, we’ve been out in it several times this year. The downside is that we’ve not used our bigger, ’86 Excella, but once. Now it is the trailer sitting idle.

I keep thinking that I’ve got to sell one or the other. I really don’t have the time or energy to keep or use both. Each has things I want to fix, fine tune, polish, clean or improve. But when I give one attention, the other languishes. I’m not good at multi-tasking.

Which one should I sell? That’s the question. I like them both and each has advantages over the other. As a result, I haven’t been able to make a decision. My wife is no help either. She’s partial to one, but admits the other is more suitable.

 

The GT at sunset in Mueller State Park

I don’t have this problem with any other piece of property and certainly not with cars. I’ve had so many different cars in my lifetime that I recently decided to make a list. There are currently twenty-two on it. I think that is accurate, but I’ve thought that before, only to then find an old registration or photo of one I’d forgotten.

My favorite was a 1970 Ford Ranch Wagon. It was dependable, powerful, comfortable, could haul and tow yet got 19 mpg. Unfortunately, it rusted from the inside out. By the time I realized how extensive the rust was the cost of fixing it would have exceeded the value of the car. So, I sold it.

The one car I kept the longest was a 1987 Ford Aerostar. That was a love/hate relationship. Its best feature was its flexibility and though it was a minivan it could haul just about anything. Despite spending plenty of money on maintenance, the brakes were its worst feature as they were always marginal under the best of conditions and downright scary otherwise. I sold it when the brakes failed completely coming down Guanella Pass into Georgetown, CO.

Only two cars were ever involved in accidents while I was driving. We were rear-ended while stopped for a red light in my Ford Thunderbird. Amazingly, we were not hurt and even though the car that hit us was totaled (it nosedived under us) our car only needed a new muffler.

My ’71 VW Super Beetle was an odd duck. I hit a pedestrian with it while going 60 mph on the interstate at four in the morning. He was dressed all in black and I didn’t see him. I knew I’d hit something of course, but didn’t know it was a man until I walked back along the highway to find what I hit. I heard him talking to himself before I saw him. The horrible feeling I had at that moment is indescribable but once I found him with my flashlight and saw that his only injury was a broken leg I was so relieved that I nearly laughed. He was drunk and I learned later that he’d been hitchhiking in the middle of the roadway.

Other than a very shallow dent in the front bumper, the VW wasn’t damaged. Its particular shape saved the man’s life. It popped him up in the air and he went completely over the car. My other car at the time was a VW bus. If I’d been driving that, the outcome would have been much different. As it was, he spent a couple days in the hospital and was released. A year later, he was drunk again, this time in Yosemite National Park, and walked off a cliff in the middle of the night. He didn’t survive that.

Anyway, I’ve never longed for any car, but the Airstreams are different. Regardless of which one I keep, I know I’ll miss the one I let go.

Happy Place

May 26th, 2012 by Forrest McClure

 

This Memorial Day weekend is not a good time to go camping in Colorado. Every tent and RV site in the state is booked. That is why we did our camping last weekend instead.

We took along Patrice’s best friend, Paula, to Mueller State Park. It’s a special place for Patrice and she wanted to share it with her. When Patrice was recovering from her stroke and consequent pneumonia and other problems, she had to undergo some unpleasant, even painful, “procedures.” To endure these, the nurses told her to imagine a place that was peaceful and pleasant and go there in her mind. She always went to Mueller. She calls it her “happy place.”

The trip was uneventful until we got to Woodland Park. From there all the way to Mueller we towed our Airstream through gropple – a hail-like snow. It quickly piled up to around six inches south of Divide, elevation 9,165’, and traffic slowed to a crawl. However, with the added tongue weight, our 2-wheel drive Suburban never lost traction.

 

Site #67 in Mueller State Park

Back when I was a boy, hardly anyone had four-wheel drive vehicles. I’ve never owned one and the times I thought I should I can count on one hand. So, I only want two wheel drive. It sits lower, has a lower center of gravity, is easier to get in and out of, and cargo is easier to load. I remember when pickup truck manufacturers touted those features as selling points. But today, you almost cannot buy a pickup or SUV in Colorado that isn’t four wheel drive. Dealerships tell me if I don’t want that feature I’d have to shop in Texas or Arizona.

It’s said that if you don’t like the weather in Colorado, wait five minutes and it will change. No sooner did we arrive at Mueller the gropple became a light rain. Not long after that, the sky cleared.

The next day was glorious, partly cloudy, highs in the low seventies and crystal clear air. Patrice took Paula to her favorite viewing point, with Pikes Peak to the east of the campground and a long ninety-mile view south to the 14,000’ mountains in the Sangre de Cristo Range.

Paula & Pat self-portrait

 

Around 5:30 p.m., I scouted in vain for a clear view of the eclipse. The sky was too cloudy. But I saw a funny phenomenon. The clouds on the horizons all turned pink. Not just to the west, but south and north as well.

After two relaxing nights at Mueller we headed back to Denver, but I was reluctant to go home. We dropped Paula off at her house and spent two nights in Cherry Creek State Park, a couple of miles from our home. I pretended we were camped somewhere else, far, far away.

When we pulled in, I spotted Rich and Eleanor’s Airstream. As luck would have it, being Monday, we got a site across the road from them. It was nice to visit, even though too short as they had a lot of work to do, meeting with Brett Hall of Timeless Trailers and checking out the venue for Alumafandango. It will be a great rally. We are really looking forward to it.

At Cherry Creek SP with Airstreamlife.com

 

Tick, Tock Clock

May 18th, 2012 by Forrest McClure

Last month the weather was so nice that we took the Globe Trotter over to Cherry Creek State Park for a night of camping. The park is only two miles away so it wasn’t exactly an adventure, but camping in April is always a little iffy in Colorado. Mostly, I just needed to get out and wanted to de-winterize the trailer.

I never sleep well the first night out. Sometime around four a.m. when everything is especially quiet, I woke because of the clock. Perhaps I was only partly awake because my mind was a bit foggy. I laid there listening to the clock tick, tick, ticking. It seemed so loud in the dead quiet. The tick, tick, ticks seemed to be speeding up though. I thought, what is wrong with that clock?

I don’t know how long I laid there listening. Was it 10 minutes, 20 or 60? At home, I can look at the clock by my bedside and tell myself I should get up. Next thing I know I open my eyes again and it’s an hour later. Time passes unnoticed.

It slowly dawned on me though that our electric clock didn’t make any noise and certainly didn’t tick. That made me sit upright and listen more intently. Where was the sound coming from? Patrice felt me getting up and woke wanting to know what I was doing.

“Do you hear a ticking sound?” I asked.

“Come back to bed. It’s just the clock.”

“Here’s the clock. See, it doesn’t make any sound.”

“Then what is it?” She wondered.

“Oh, no.” I opened a little compartment under the bed where the water pressure regulator and some valves are located. “Damn, it’s leaking.” The tick, tick, tick was a drip, drip, drip.

I ran outside in just my shorts to turn off the water and disconnect the hose. Then I hurried back inside to stuff towels into the tiny compartment hoping to soak up as much water as possible. Fortunately, there is an opening in the floor for a drain tube in the compartment and that let most of the water out. So, we didn’t have a flood.

Still, it puzzles me why the water pressure regulator chose to leak in the middle of the night. I checked it first thing after hooking up and there wasn’t a problem. In fact, I always check it after hooking up because I’ve had problems with it before. It is made of ABS plastic (it’s a popular brand that Airstream currently uses) and I can only guess that sometimes the O-rings don’t seal properly or that sometimes the plastic body just isn’t quite up to the task of handling the pressure.

I returned to bed and we slept in until about nine a.m. Then we wanted some water for washing and cooking. So, I hooked up the water and checked the regulator. It didn’t leak. I don’t understand why, but if I ever hear the clock ticking again I won’t be fooled (and from now on I’m turning the water off at bedtime).

Blogs, Death and Grandchildren

March 30th, 2012 by Forrest McClure

Okay, I’ve learned a lesson – I shouldn’t ignore my blog for months on end. I have some excuses, but you know, excuses are like… and everyone has one. When my trailers went into winter hibernation, so did I. There were other distractions. The biggest was my father-in-law dying. He was the patriarch of the family and left a big hole in our hearts.

He died in hospice, March 15th after struggling for years with lung, blood and heart problems, but it was cancer that finally got him.

He lived a long fulfilling life though and at the end, he had his wife and daughters at his bedside. That has to count for something.

There is still a lot to do but I’m beginning to catch up. This blog is one of those things. I knew the site had a big upgrade a while ago, but the big surprise was the 6,600+ spam comments attached to my postings. I was only able to delete a 150 at a time without getting an error message from the server. So, it took some time to trash them.

I apologize to those of you who posted legitimate comments. I just couldn’t handle sorting them out. As a result, everyone’s comments, even my own, are now gone.

Isn’t it sad that we have to put up with the vultures of the world? That’s what spammers are – scavengers. Of course, they forage in other ways too.

Several days ago, my mother-in-law received a note in the mail. It appeared to be hand written and said, “My wife and I are interested in buying your house… Please call us at 720-xxx-xxxx… thanks, John & Jane Doe.” (I changed the names because a complaint with the BBB is pending.)

The note really upset my mom. She didn’t know these people and didn’t understand how they knew her husband had died or how they got her address. She’s unlisted in the phone book. It especially frightened her because she is alone for the first time in her life and feels vulnerable. She even worried that someone might be watching her house.

My complaint to the BBB was that this kind of unsolicited inquiry is unscrupulous because it did not list the name of the business. A close inspection of the note revealed it was computer generated. The return address on the envelope and phone number in the note belongs to a realtor. Obviously, they scour the obituaries for leads. They might call that fishing, but it’s really just another kind of spam.

On a lighter note, my grandchildren were on their way to the funeral. They asked where they were going and my daughter told them, “to the cemetery to bury greatpa.” My four-year-old grandson said, “Oh, no, that means we have to dig.” My six-year-old grandson replied, “yeah, and dig a lot.” As Art Linkletter would say, “Children say the darndest things.”

About the Author

Hi, my name is Forrest McClure. I've been writing for the magazine since its inception. My wife and I travel with our 1966 20' Globe Trotter or our 1986 32' Excella. So, my primary interest is vintage travel trailers.