Heading Home At Last!

Since this began with a puff of smoke and a slow roll to the side of a Texas highway in the middle of June, we have been waiting to see our RV sitting back in the driveway and fully functional again.

It has been an expensive, lesson-filled, at times frustrating journey, but here we are, at last.

Our Orion is home.

And after the last few months, those are particularly sweet words to type.

What was supposed to be part of another summer adventure took an unexpected turn when the Orion developed serious engine trouble and eventually ended up at Beach Ford down for the count.

There aren’t many things quite as sad as watching your RV disappear into a service lot, especially when you know the problem isn’t going to be solved quickly or inexpensively.

By the numbers: What started as an $18,000 repair quotation in Texas, swelled to a $20,000 estimate at Beach Ford. In the end, and mostly due to the dogged determination and hard work of my favorite Service Adviser, Catie with a “C”, we’ll end up at about $13,000 all in. A painful check to write, but it could have been worse and Catie worked really hard to help us. Her empathy and concern were evident from our very first meeting with her and she kept chipping away at it for us. I hope Beach Ford keeps her well compensated and providing good customer service for years to come. They have won me over as a customer. They have become the shop of record for our RV. Thank you Catie and Beach Ford for getting us back whole. Hopefully, the next time I see you, is just for an oil change.

So, this morning I headed over to Beach Ford. Tucked among the commercial trucks and other RVs, looking remarkably innocent for something that has caused this much drama and expense lately was our Orion.

Today was pickup day.

Before leaving, I did what every slightly obsessive RV owner should do after major engine work:

I opened the hood and stared at everything.

I tilted my head and squinted.

I squeezed some hoses and tapped a few things. Important things.

Does it look right?

Is anything leaking?

Is anything loose?

Do I actually know what half of these hoses do?

Yes, no, apparently no, and absolutely not.

Close enough.

I checked the oil.

Oil so clean I had to tilt the dipstick into the sun to see there was any there at all.

I kicked the tires.

Then came the moment that really mattered.

Turn the key.

Engine starts on the first bump and idles almost silently.

The Air Conditioning works.

Put it in gear.

And drive.

There is something wonderfully exciting about an RV moving under its own power again when, not very long ago, you weren’t entirely sure when that was going to happen ever.

I only had a few miles to get back home. Not a long road test, but it seemed to go very well. No check engine lights. No smoke. No rattles that weren’t from the kitchen. I didn’t try any jack rabbit starts or push it very hard, but everything seemed as it should be.

Most importantly, our “Slow Down and Smile” face is still riding on the back.

That seems particularly appropriate right now. We definitely slowed down and hopefully we have smiled through most of it.

Eventually you fix what needs fixing, turn the key again and see where the road goes next.

And that’s where we are.

Next comes the small repair I need to make. I think I mentioned breaking the low-hanging sewer drainpipes while putting her on the trailer. That should be cheap and easy and will be an upgrade as the gate valves need replacing anyway. She needs a little cleaning, a little organizing and we’ll officially be on the road again.

I’ll be watching fluids, kicking tires, checking underneath, squinting at important things, listening for strange noises and generally behaving like someone who has recently been given his RV back after major surgery.

And barring any surprises, she won’t be sitting here for long.

There are places to go.

For a little while, Orion’s story was about getting home.

Now we get to start talking about where she’s taking us next.

Man, does that feel good.

Slow down and smile.

There is still a lot of road ahead.

AND Tomorrow the Adventure continues.

Breakdown, Beyond, Belief

The Short Road Home.

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.

But one way or another we will travel again. Bet.

Day Whatever: The Day the Adventure Paused

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.

But tonight?

Tonight it just feels like a loss.

Plans change. That’s part of travel.

This is part of the story now.

I just wish it wasn’t this chapter.

Right?

So we’ll head East instead of West.

That wasn’t the plan.

Still. Palo Duro Canyon will be waiting.

Maybe not this week.

Maybe not this year.

But someday.

Tomorrow, the Adventure continues.

A man and a woman making sad faces while posing for a selfie outdoors, with a vehicle and a cloudy sky in the background.

Day 7: Breathing Room, Bub and Brisket

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