I’m not as far behind as I thought, but I should have been in Valdosta by now. It’s my second day behind schedule. Of more concern is that being behind makes one take shortcuts that generally wind up costing more in the long run. I worked on the camper most of the day and I’m learning vast and fast. But that means little else of interest, so I’ll try to pick out all the good news for the day.
Of course we have a moment to learn something new. It is called a crescent wrench not because of any design shape, but after the company that successfully marketed it. Most of the early models were double-headed. The company claims the first model was carved from wood after hearing a description of a Swedish tool.
Back to the camper. The [interior] electrical is mostly installed, it sits on a shelf three-quarters of the height up the interior wall, so everything is neatly tucked out of the way. I did pop a 4 amp fuse that is proving hard to find. The interior is more than bright enough on either of the two bulbs, which is a bonus because I only need one.
I took a four hour nap inside the sarcophagus. No problem, I can sleep, turn over, and stretch out. I toss and turn while I sleep and found there was no difficulty with that. I can rest up on my elbows and I’m investing in a plush pillow. The camper is not at all soundproof, that is just something best handled by a good set of ear plugs. It takes 40 seconds to open the hatch, crawl inside, and bed down.
Back in the 80s, I stayed at a guest hotel that was smaller inside. That was in Delhi, India. The crusty old guy that ran the place rented out the cubicles for sleeping but the cubes had no locks. He had locks for sale. But I always take my own lock when hitting the third world. Because I know my lock has only one key. The units were just big enough for you to sleep and keep one knapsack inside with you.
Incidentally, I was there when they assassinated Indira, and found out later the building was spared being torched because it would have also ignited the historic theater next door. Alas, it will be years before those journals [my travel diaries] are located and published, by which time my observations will be totally out of date. The world is shutting down and becoming one massive tourist trap. What I saw, you can’t see any more. It’s been painted, fenced off, and priced like DisneyWorld.
I discovered the voltage controller that came with the solar panels is a delicate instrument. When inside the unit, I had a fan operating at all times. The circulation is more than adequate at night [to keep the sleeping area cool]. The daytime, I don’t know, but that’s the next thing to test. Will the panels put out enough to run a full size fan so I could sleep on a hot day? The trade-off is whether I park in the sun and run a large fan, or park in the shade? This is all uncharted territory, there is nobody to ask. Most of it will be learned by trial and error.
Yes, I checked what is necessary to go pee at night. Exiting the camper takes the same forty seconds, but in a pinch, guys can do it in a little bottle. We used to do that at scout camp because the latrine was so damn far away. And usually in the rain. Another wise move was giving that front box a trap door. What remains is to take this thing out on the road, but there is so little time for an adequate test run.
I’m tacking strips of bicycle tube rubber over all the hinges. There are three, the forward and back hatches, and the lid. I’m planning on installing handles as removing the top will be a two man job once the panels are bolted down. The panels are out there tonight, resting on the lid. I’m going to have to mickey mouse the spring mounts for in the end, I could not find that simple item. Return next day for a photo of the rig, it is actually kind of good looking. But I did use non-pressure treated plywood for some of the parts I was not sure of, so they will warp and need replacing after this trip.
Remember the “luggage racks” that Harley-Davidson wanted $275 for? Those are the ammo boxes in their St. Pete’s showroom on my return trip from Savannah Well, I just discovered that, sawn in half, plastic milk cartons become cargo baskets and do exactly the same job. The trick is to position them correctly but I’ll find somewhere to fit them. Those milk cartons are very sturdy and some are actually quite stylish. They are intended for very light loads, like laundry or a gallon gas can.
I’ve used the nickname Boris for the Russian guy who works there so long, I forget his real name. He’s a bit pessimistic about most things and tends not to believe things that don’t relate to his own experiences. Like today, he does not believe you can cash a check without depositing it into your account. He’s never thought it was possible and therefore it must be impossible. Ha!
ADDENDUM
Let me see if memory lets me find that hotel in Delhi again. First, because of the assassination, it must have been 1984. So 29 years ago. For openers, I was in the very downtown of the oldest part of the city, so it was not luxurious and you had your street people. I found Connaught Place, which I remembered as Connaught Square, which at the time caused me a chuckle. Because it is a circle.
There are very few straight roads in the city. Even the thoroughfares run off at angles. And no way to find a map. The few places that had them kept them locked away. There was a metro line but it was not running. In fact, most of the place wasn’t running because the system is dominated by Sikhs, who fled when the reprisals started. (Indira’s bodyguards were Sikhs.)
Found it. Ah, the miracle of satellite imagery. The yellow X in the upper left is the location of my lodging. You can see the circle, which is a park above ground and a busy underground shopping center. Like Caracas, the metro is air conditioned and a welcome break on most days. But I could not find anything to see or do in Delhi, at least not within easy commute from downtown. Lots of gleaming government offices next to slums. What I came away with most was newspaper ads and the complete dominance of the economy by the tiny elite of European-educated citizens.
Newspaper ads? Yep, thousands of ads seeking American or Canadian husbands for their daughters. Huge cash bonuses if you’ll just marry one and get her out of the country. I had to watch my passport continually, you could see the envious glances whenever you had to show it. And I was offered $5,000 to “lose” the passport. But, all that is another story, which is hand-written. I have all that paperwork around here somewhere. India was not “modern” back then, I had a hard time finding a bar to go for a drink on my birthday.
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