Before I get too far, I need to update on some of the shopping Tutu has done since our last update. A few weeks ago we loaded up to go to the beach, started the car, and got, you know, one of THOSE warning lights on the dash that states in the owner’s manual “do not drive vehicle.” After a super fun flatbed ride up the 805, she got herself a brand spanking new alternator! And thanks to some persistence on my part, we got the part covered under warranty, since the previous owner had just replaced the alternator less than a year ago. I earned several back pats for that one.
Taking a ride.
All was pretty calm car-wise leading up to the move. We got her some new sunglasses a few days before we left. I was tempted to go with limo tint, but settled for 20% (the percentage in window tinting describes the amount of light let in — the smaller the number, the darker the tint). The worst part of the whole thing may have been that the tinting was done at a shop that also does a lot of really amazing car audio so I had to basically duct tape my mouth shut to not order more things.
Super fly!
We made it to Disney without incident. Hooray! There's a whole separate post for that.
Then comes Monday of this week. Our plan was to drive to Yuma on Monday afternoon to knock a few hours off, and then hit the Grand Canyon on Tuesday. Monday morning Matt went to work to do all his final check-out stuff, while SB and I stayed back at the hotel so she could sleep in. Sometime between filling up the car with gas and heading back to the hotel to come and get us, the check engine light came on. OF COURSE IT DID.
We called our regular mechanic and … they were closed for vacation. OF COURSE THEY WERE. We called the Westie shop (VW Westfalia conversions are often referred to as “Westies,” especially the older ones) and asked if we could at least bring the van by so they could run the code and let us know what we were dealing with. They said “sure, bring it on by” so we drove straight there. They gave us the code and we looked it up and it could be one of so many things. They didn’t think it was anything of grave concern, and reset it for us so at least the check engine light was off (free of charge!). I had also called our VW dealership (where we have regular service done on our other cars) and left a message with them. In the end, our service advisor over there, D, whose mortgage we’ve basically paid over the last three years with all of our service appointments, said we could bring it by and they’d squeeze us in. So Matt took SB with him over there while I ran errands in the Golf to finish up everything we needed for the trip.
They ended up replacing a vacuum hose for the brake booster and ta-daa! Done. I made Matt bring along a case of beer to give them as a thank you for squeaking us in. We then went to drop off the Golf with friends (we are shipping it, and they are babysitting until it’s ready to be picked up), finished loading up, and headed out to Yuma.
Originally we had planned to camp in Yuma. A few hours after we made the camping reservation I realized a check of the weather there might be prudent. But I was actually, honest-to-goodness thinking to myself at the time, “deserts get cold at night. Do I need to wash the footed pajamas?” When I really should have been thinking “how can I fit an ice bath in the top of the van?” Because HOLY COW the forecast for that evening? Said that at 8 p.m., it would still be 103 degrees. So we aborted the camping plans and I found us a room at the Historic Coronado Motor Hotel.
It was an adorable place. Enormous, like spanned a city block on both sides of the street. I think we might have been one of two guests staying that evening, though. They allowed pets, and even had a little pet gift bag when we checked in. The room was clean, the bathroom was nice, there was free wi-fi, and it HAD AIR CONDITIONING.
I was inside the room with SB while Matt unloaded the van when all of a sudden he came inside with a look on his face that wasn’t great. “We melted the box,” he said. And sure enough, one of the plastic boxes we had sitting on the rear trailer shelf was completely melted. I don’t know how to describe it, so I’ll just show you a picture. The pattern of the shelf was now a part of the box, and you could see where the plastic had been literally dripping onto the ground. Luckily the propane tanks and the grill were on the other side, so all we did was fuse a blanket to the box but HOLY SH*T that could have been so bad.
We were all Winnie the Pooh and sat there saying “think think think” on how we could solve this. It was clear that the heat from the exhaust pipe (probably combined with the ambient temperature of over 110 degrees) had melted the box, since the shelf sits almost level with it. Inspection of some of the pick-up trucks in the parking lot showed that most had exhaust pipes out to the side (“oh, well that makes sense,” - me) that eliminated the issue for them when towing. Matt went online and we found some solace in the fact that we were clearly not the first people this has happened to. Misery loves company!
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