Back from California...

After 8 days, hundreds of miles, some foggy coastal highway and our fair share of engine trouble, I am back in Anacortes. It was a fun trip... and it took place in an RV that Dad bought two days before we left.

First we beelined it down to Sacramento. Dad bought some Powell Phantom trailbikes off of eBay from some guy that has a tire shop there, so we picked the bikes up first. As we pulled up to the tiny little tire shop, we had no idea that we were about to stumble into a gold mine. The whole back two rooms of this guy's shop were filled with bikes of all shapes and sizes - most of them beautifully restored. Amogst the collection were no less than SIX other Powells, in addition to the ones we had bought - Three P81s, a P87, and a Challenger. (I'll correct this later if I'm not remembering right... the pictures from that day are on Dad's camera.) Dad was so excited... he has been looking for a P81 for a long time. To be able to see three of them, along with the other bikes, was really awesome for him. I'll have to post pictures of the bikes when I get them from Dad. After Sacramento, we went through Santa Rosa and Sebastopol (where I lived until I was 7) and then came up the coast and through the redwoods.

Unfortunately, the good ol' Chevy Van RV had a few... issues. Meaning that about halfway through the trip (as we're still in central-northern California) the engine started missing... especially at speeds above 60mph. Dad bought a new fuel filter at a Napa and installed it (which in itself was an ordeal, seeing as we had few tools with us), and that seemed to fix the problem. Until it started happening again on the way home, right outside of Portland.

The fuel filters in these vans are puny little things, so Dad just assumed that it had clogged up fast. We bought another filter (and a wrench) in Chehalis and Dad installed it (it was much easier with a wrench), and pretty soon we were back on I-5, feeling good about life. Until the engine started missing again, after about 3 minutes. At this point Dad didn't know what was wrong, and we didn't exactly have any other vehicles to drive... so we pressed on and drove the last 200 miles home as the engine started to miss at lower and lower speeds. I slept a little, but most of the time I was up in the loft above the cab, praying that Jesus would help us get back home under our own steam instead of a tow truck's. By the time we lurched back onto Fidalgo, we were maxing out at 40-55 mph and having a hard time recovering from stoplights. But we made it safe and sound, and that's what counts... and had a grand adventure along the way.

Oh, and we got to stop at In-N-Out on the way down (my first!). This is the "out" picture (we have an "in" one, too).



Now I'm dogsitting at the Stalsbrotens' house, sitting in The Chair with my laptop and a glass of ice water, waiting for my load of laundry to get done. It's really relaxing, actually, to just sit here and type with Nisa (the dog) snoring away happily in the background. It's a blessing to be able to retreat to an empty house after going for a week without any serious alone time. I even took some time to swing on the swing and look at the stars while Nisa was nosing around the backyard. What a great way to unwind after a fun week of roadtrip.