Jump back in time about an hour ago. I am planning and plotting and gathering data for a Root Cause Analysis.
I have the template in my head for that sort of process.
I have written a clear timeline of events leading up to our demise.
I have collected maintenance records for the RV from a variety of vendors.
I have compiled a list of questions for which I need answers.
I have set a budget for those diagnostics.
I have set an appointment with a commercial Transit-capable Ford shop later this week.
As I am doing my research, I have the ChatGBT open and for fun, I ask what it would take to convert it to a an EV RV? Right? That would be cool. Fancy. But No, was the conclusion. Very bad idea. It would be a ” one off science experiment”.
OK, I really wanted to buy a diesel truck when we got this RV, so can I take this opportunity to put in a diesel engine. Long story short, horrible idea. “would almost certainly be a terrible financial decision”.
I knew both of those answers, but it was a fun thought experiment. So, and this is what I really want to record, it is now that I genuinely found an appreciation for the AI sense of humor. I actually laughed out loud in a room by myself at this exchange:
Could we get a flux capacitor and convert it into a time machine
Absolutely.
Given your current situation, I calculate that the optimal repair strategy is:
Install a flux capacitor.
Accelerate the Orion to 88 mph.
Return to approximately June 10, 2026.
Buy a lottery ticket.
Skip Texas entirely.
Replace the engine before it fails.
Invest in NVIDIA.
Return to the present.
The only technical challenges are:
Acquiring 1.21 gigawatts of power.
Finding a suitable plutonium supplier.
Modifying a 2017 Transit to reach 88 mph while towing 10 national parks worth of souvenirs.
Explaining to Susan why you’re suddenly obsessed with sports almanacs.
I am not sure what I was expecting as an answer, but getting to the end and discovering that my ChatGBT is on a first name basis with my wife just made me laugh until I cried – twice (now three times as I was proof reading.). Too funny.
“Open the pod bay doors, HAL”
Not much else to report. We have been unpacking the camper before the meeting at the Ford Dealer on Wednesday. I have gathered as much documentation as I think might be useful. I know these things often start with, “Did you ever change the oil?” so I have that documented as well as other service done along the way.
We’ll see how it goes, I guess. Generally speaking, we have been given the worst case scenario already. Anything other than replacing the engine is a win. Not much we will know until Wednesday.
Here’s a quick flex from one of our Carolina Wrens. Heard these birds at every overnight stop as we were heading west. They definitely get out of the Carolinas.
Every adventure story eventually comes down to the question, “What happens next?”
A few days ago, we knew the answer. The script was written.
We would roll on, point the RV toward Palo Duro Canyon, continue west through Texas, Arizona and Nevada, spend time in California, then head back through some of our marquee National Parks and eventually slip back into Virginia Beach with thousands of photos, stories and memories.
Instead, I am typing this update from, My Desk.
Not because I want to.
After the engine issues in Texas and the initial diagnosis that no traveler wants to hear, we found ourselves staring at an estimated repair bill that was larger than the value of many perfectly good used cars. The trip ended not at a campground or scenic overlook, or in our driveway but in the parking lot of a Ford dealership.
The RV is now on the way back home to Virginia Beach on a very expensive Uber ride of its own. The irony is not lost on me that the RV now has traveled farther this week than we did. Worth pointing out though, while $5000 does seem crazy for a tow home, note that we would have spent an additional estimated $3500 just on gasoline if we completed the trip as planned. Still hurts, but helps me justify the insanity of the expense, a little.
Since arriving home, I’ve begun the process of figuring out exactly what happened, why it happened, and what comes next.
The first step is information.
I’ve submitted requests for more details from the Texas Ford dealer that diagnosed the engine failure and the maintenance shop that performed the oil change and 50,000-mile service just days before the trip. At this stage, I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I simply want facts.
What work was performed?
What was found?
What tests were run?
What evidence supports the diagnosis?
And perhaps most importantly, could there another explanation?
Before we spend seventeen thousand dollars replacing an engine, I just want to be certain that the engine truly needs replacing. Right?
There will be additional inspections, second opinions, probably a fair amount of detective work, potential social media smear campaigns and more intrique than a spy novel. The challenge now is determining whether this is a failed engine, a failed component, a maintenance issue, bad luck, or some combination of all four.
Once the cause is determined, we can look at things like requesting consideration from Ford on repairs and rebuilding or replacing the engine for the least money.
The good news is that there is no immediate rush, now.
We’re sleeping in our own bed.
The Garden is still growing.
The Birds are still singing.
The pool is still clear.
And the National Parks aren’t going anywhere.
One of the surprising things about the last few days has been the huge number of people who have reached out with encouragement, advice, mechanic recommendations, and stories of their own travel disasters. Apparently, breaking down hundreds of miles from home is a more common travel experience than I realized.
Every adventure story worth telling has a chapter where things go sideways. Those challenges are needed for the hero’s journey to have any meaning.
They usually make for the best stories later.
As for us?
We’re already talking about the next trip.
The breakdown was frustrating.
The tow bill is painful.
The repair estimates were shocking.
But none of those things changed why we travel in the first place.
The goal was never just to reach the destination.
The goal was to live outside our daily routine.
To see new places.
To make memories.
To collect stories.
To reunite with the USA
And despite everything, we still managed to do that.
So for now, the RV sits on a flatbed trailer as we are waiting for answers.
The investigation begins.
The repair plan will come later.
And somewhere out there, all the national parks are still waiting for us.
This story isn’t over.
It’s just paused for maintenance.
Tomorrow the Adventure Continues
By The Numbers
2 National Parks visited
6 states traveled
1,500+ miles driven
1 repaired tire valve
1 major engine failure
1 very expensive tow home
Countless memories
Unlimited determination to finish what we started
Stay tuned.
The next chapter may involve mechanics, engines, lawyers, negotiations, and more troubleshooting than sightseeing.
So- you know how a toddler can just decide that they don’t want to go any further and just stop moving. They become very heavy and drop to the ground as if to say “I’m done and you can’t make me go any farther!” Well that is what the camper decided to do to us yesterday. It was done and we couldn’t make it go any further without spending a lot of money and a lot of time. So we had no other choice but to pick it up and take it home. While the camper takes a very expensive Uber ride home, we will be flying home. Unfortunately, months of planning and researching could not predict this. So with a few phone calls and emails we canceled every thing we had planned and are heading home. Luckily we are only an hour or so away from our son. He is driving to pick us up (yay to the bonus time with him) and taking us back to Dallas to catch a flight. Also, we have a pilot in the family that allows us to fly space available standby and a daughter who helps arrange it all. Hopefully a flight will get us home tonight.
After some appropriate mourning , we are already starting to look at what we could do next. There are more adventures to come…
We left our campground this morning, headed toward Palo Duro Canyon. Fully recharged. Spirits were great. The RV was running. The miles were rolling by. We stopped and filled up for under $3 per gallon. High fiving over “cheap” Texas gas. We were already thinking about today’s views, the next campground, the next story. Life was good.
Then the engine lost power.
Again.
We remained optimistic enough to believe we might just lose a few hours.
Instead, we lost the trip.
We lost our RV.
The verdict was brutal.
New engine required.
Seventeen thousand dollars.
Seven to ten days before they could get the replacement engine in stock.
Five days of labor to swap it out once they had the engine.
Just like that, months of planning collided head-on with a hot block of metal buried under the hood.
There is a special kind of disappointment that comes when an adventure doesn’t end. It simply stops.
No grand finale.
No final campsite.
No victory lap down our street, where whoever is driving stops the car a hundred yards from home and claims to be too tired to finish the drive, begging for someone to take over. (It gets funnier every time, you’ll have to trust me on this.)
I won’t lie. It IS a gut punch.
The money is the money. Do I have a loose seventeen grand stuffed in a sock somewhere? No. It hurts.
But surprisingly, that’s not the source of disappointment.
This trip wasn’t just a line item in our budget.
It was ten National Parks.
It was adventures, new roads, and stories we hadn’t lived yet.
It was early mornings, late nights, and spending time with people we love.
It was asking, repeatedly, “I wonder what’s around the next bend?”
Today, the definitive answer turned out to be a Ford service bay in Decatur, Texas.
That wasn’t on the itinerary.
The funny thing about travel is that it teaches you flexibility, whether you want the lesson or not.
The fact remains, the memories don’t disappear because the engine died.
We still crossed the Mississippi River on foot.
We still wandered the grounds at Graceland.
We still explored the forests of Hot Springs before most people had their first cup of coffee.
We still spent a day doing almost absolutely nothing.
We still laughed.
We still got lost.
We still made our way West.
Maybe that’s the lesson.
The destination is never guaranteed.
The adventure shouldn’t be measured by how many miles we completed or how many parks we checked off a list.
It is measured by the days we were given.
Would I rather be writing tonight from Palo Duro Canyon?
Absolutely.
Would I rather be staring out at the second largest Canyon in the US?
Without question.
But tomorrow we’ll put our well-loved and formerly trustworthy RV on a trailer.
For those of you playing along at home, the tow bill for 1500 miles is $5000. (Fun fact, Good Sam roadside assistance will only get you to a place of repair. Once we were at the Dealership, that was it for all of our towing coverage even though they did NOT tow us to the dealer. I will be having a conversation with them when I get home. Their Platinum Roadside Assistance with Travel Assist did NOTHING for us today. Read the fine print.)
However, with that said, we cannot spend 15+ days in Decatur, TX to spend $17,000+ fixing the camper. Just not an option.
IF, that is the final cost, so be it, but it needs to be done in our town by our people. I need a second opinion at least. Right?
I do plan to fight a little with Ford as well. This truck only has 48,000 miles on it. It came from the factory with a 60K/5 year warranty, so we exceed the years, but not the miles. It may amount to nothing, but I feel like a phone call or two, and maybe calling them out on Twitter, is in order before I write another check. Right?
So, now we are at a cheap motel in Decatur, TX. (To add insult to injury, the Ford Dealer here would NOT let us camp the night in their parking lot. I will forgive them the $195 diagnostic fee they charged to ruin our trip, but c’mon…no camping? They could take a lesson from Walmart.)
I have spent the past hour canceling tour and lodging reservations. Tomorrow, we will meet the car hauler at the dealer to pick up the RV.
Our son is going to meet us there and carry us back to DFW where we will hopefully fly home tomorrow evening and start picking up the pieces.
I try to remain upbeat.
Truthfully, I’ve been somewhere between holding back tears and actively crying for most of the afternoon.
It feels silly to write that as a grown man sitting in a budget motel room in Texas, but there it is.
We’ve spent months planning this trip.
Months of researching campgrounds, plotting routes, making reservations, checking weather forecasts, buying gear, cleaning, tweaking, packing, upgrading, fixing little things on the RV, and dreaming about places we’ve wanted to see for years.
Today, I spent my energy canceling reservations.
Tours.
Campgrounds.
One cancellation email after another.
That may have been the hardest part.
Not the diagnosis.
Not the estimate.
Not even the tow bill.
The realization that the trip we’d been looking forward to for so long was suddenly over.
I know, no good story ever started, “Remember when our RV DIDN’T lose an engine in Texas…”
And somewhere down the road, after the frustration fades and the credit card bill stops making my left eye twitch, this will evolve into a fondly remembered family episode. Right?
We’ll laugh about the engine that self-destructed in Texas.
We’ll laugh about the hotel.
We’ll laugh about the tow bill.
We’ll probably even laugh about me crying into my pillow.
Ours arrived just outside Dallas as we were climbing a long Texas hill heading toward the panhandle. The RV suddenly felt sluggish, and lost power.
Check Engine Light On.
The light blinked and went back out, but power was diminished and we had to put on the hazards and limp down the shoulder.
We found a place to pull off the road to diagnose.
We rebooted the truck.
I plugged in my code reader and got a Cylinder 5 Misfire. That’s enough information to make you concerned, but not enough information to tell you whether you’re dealing with a minor annoyance or a major vacation-altering event.
Fortunatley, we were close to a town with a Ford dealer, and even more fortunate, they agreed to look at it immediately. Finding service is one thing. Finding service willing to see you right now is something else entirely.
So instead of rolling west toward Palo Duro Canyon, we’re sitting in a Texas dealership waiting room where we have just been informed that our engine has lost compression on two cylinders and we need a new engine. Yup, you read that right…a whole new engine. Ugh.
So, now we are waiting for a quote on how much and how long this is going to take. Suffice to say that our timeline is impacted.
Definitely a huge bummer but we are remaining optimistic.
Travel has a way of reminding you that control is mostly an illusion.
You can plan the route. You can check the weather. You can service the vehicle. You can pack spare parts.
After almost a week of moving, exploring, hiking, driving, sightseeing, and generally trying to squeeze every drop out of every destination, Day 7 arrived and we did:
Absolutely nothing.
Well, almost nothing. Susan caught up all of our laundry, and we hit the grocery store for provisions and Big Red Soda after dinner, but mostly nothing.
The camper never moved. No GPS. No fuel stops. No campground hookups to manage. No weather radar. No National Park maps. No “what time do we need to leave?”
Just a day off.
And honestly, it may have been one of the best days of the trip so far.
The Texas weather was a giant hair dryer. Very Hot. Very Windy. Bright blue skies. The kind of day where the trees sway constantly, and every surface feels warm to the touch before noon.
Susan claimed her spot in the pool and spent much of the morning floating, relaxing, and soaking up a little Texas sunshine. The pool area at Shady Creek is one of those unexpected campground treasures. Nothing fancy. Nothing over-the-top. Just cool water on a hot day with nowhere important to be. Too cool for me. I got up to my thighs and was missing the 105-degree water of my soaking tub from yesterday. I chose a different path.
Another vacation luxury: a guilt-free nap.
Not a quick doze.
Not a power nap.
A full-fledged, middle-of-the-day, “wake up and wonder what year it is” nap.
Highly recommend it.
One of the real reasons for stopping here for two nights was the opportunity to spend some time with our son. Which was a too short, but fantastic time to hug, catch up, eat, and hug again.
That meal was the culinary highlight of the day and came courtesy of Tender Smokehouse. Texas takes barbecue seriously.
There are entire regions of the country that argue endlessly about barbecue. Carolina. Memphis. Kansas City. And Texas.
I’m not getting involved in that debate.
But if Texas barbecue is wrong, I don’t particularly need to be right.
Tomorrow the wheels start turning again. New roads. New scenery. New adventures are waiting in the Texas Panhandle. A place I have never experienced.
But today?
Today was about rest.
And after more than 1,400 miles on the road, it was exactly what we needed.
By the Numbers
Miles Driven: 0
Fuel Consumed: 0 gallons
National Parks Visited: 0
Pool Time: Several hours
Naps: One
Family Time: Priceless
Texas Brisket Consumed: Not enough and still, too much.
