Back in Denver...Finally!

Since I posted my radiator problem last night...and was spotted online by a couple of facebook monitors...I have had quite an ordeal just limping my bus back to Denver.  I slept only 2 of the past 36 hours.  The video was taken at about the 12th hour.  Since that time I went to McDonald's in Burlington to satisfy a long overdue rendevous with the internet.  Ironically, I didn't really enjoy it.  Probably because I was more concerned about getting my crippled bus home.  This is perhaps the most serious mechanical problem I have had.  The one thing that is said in online diesel forums about my engine, the 8.2L detroit diesel, is to not let it overheat.  Seems they are more sensitive to high temperatures than other diesels.
After getting online for a couple of hours...and letting the bus cool off.  I decided to attempt to drive back to Denver that night (it is about midnight then).  The weather was cool, around 45 degrees, and my thinking was that this would be my best shot at driving it (versus sleeping at the truck stop and making a go of it the next day when the temperature would be significantly warmer).  I decided to leave the fan belt off instead of prying it back onto the pulley...prying is a no no with belts.  I made it about 5 miles before I was overheating again.  I pulled off the road and pried the belts onto the pulley.  That worked for about another 5 miles before it threw them off again, losing one in the process.  No small matter, the belts are $30 each and a difficult size to find.  I reattached the one remaining belt.  Two things to note...One, I am already out in the middle of nowhere, even though I am on the interstate.  I know of nowhere else you can drive two hours in either direction before you would come across a Walmart.  The other point to note is that each time the bus overheats it spews steam and boiling water out.  I have to refill it each time.  This takes 6 gallons of water each time.  Fortunately one of my breakdown spots had a water spigot even though the gas station was closed for the night.  I refilled all my water jugs and the radiator.  I reattached the belt and tried again.  I went about 2 miles and I could hear the difference in the engine when I lost the belt.  I pulled off at the next exit a mile up the road, which was fortunate since exits are frequently 10 miles apart out in that remote place of the world.  I drove another mile on dark roads and magically ended up in the parking lot of a service station left behind from the 1950's. (I'm pretty sure Gomer Pyle use to work here before moving to Mayberry).  The name of the place was Oasis Service.   Checking my radiator again, I saw I had lost my last belt for good.  Being 3am in the morning and now officially stuck.  I stayed awake because I didn't want the proprietor of the business to come in and find me essentially sleeping at his stoop...bad first impression.  Besides those country folks like to rise at the crack of dawn, which is about 5am.  At 5am I dozed off.
 I awoke at 7am to the glaring sun and a brief panic that I had overslept.  But it was another half hour before the owner, Tom, showed up to find my bus in front of his building.  He was an elderly gentleman of undetermined age, either he looked really bad for 55 or exceedingly well for 80.  He was a slight man and he chewed on the snub of an unlit cigar while a little chocolate tributary ran unnoticed from the corner of his mouth. He wore the khaki coveralls of a working man.  He had an overweight long haired tabby cat with dark  and tan stripes that greeted us when he opened the shop door.  The cat's name was lil' cat.  Tom never spoke or touched that cat, and yet he was a very social cat that promptly introduced himself to the bottom of my jeans.  Tom wasn't an overly nice fella, but more curious about this out of towner with his long hair tucked up under his cap,  parked in front of his shop.  We sat and talked while I purchased my breakfast from his fridge, Mountain Dew and Baby Ruth.  We not so secretly shared our knowledge of vehicle engines, a manly bonding ritual.  We speculated on potential solutions.  The agreed upon root cause of my problem was a bad bearing between the fan bland and the pulleys that acts as the spinning pivot point.  We also agreed that fixing that wasn't an option in the country on a Saturday.  We decided that I needed new belts and that we would tighten those down as much as possible with his assortment of mechanics tools.  Finding the belts required calls to towns that were all 25 miles from us to 4 different businesses ranging from Napa auto parts to John Deer Dealerships.  We found only one belt that was the correct size in 3 counties.  Tom was kind enough to drive me to CarQuest auto parts in Burlington to pick up the belt.  He drove the whole way there with his left turn signal on.  It wasn't my place to correct him.  Walking into the parts store, Tom immediately runs into someone he knows and they strike up a conversation about rattlesnakes they've seen and the size of the rattle on them.   When we approach the counter, I believe he was trying to impress me with some more of his vehicular venacular when he asked if they carried a matched set of belts, when we knew good and well we were lucky to have the one belt.  The manager explained they don't do matched sets anymore since computers can get each and every belt to within a hundredth of an inch in any given size.   I felt that the manager had taken an unnecessary jab at my new friend from the old school by dropping the technology bomb.  So I absently mumbled out  'hmm, that's interesting' while looking at some tire gauges and then we left the store.
We put that belt on good and tight.  We both reaffirmed that that ought to get me to Denver.  I gave him $20 for driving me to get the belt and helping me put it on.  He instantly was distracted by a local who came in to buy some of his gas from pumps that were a throw back to the days I was learning to drive.

I made it about 45 minutes before that belt slipped off.  Fortunately it stayed with the bus, dangling from the pulley.  I refilled the radiator and let the bus cool off for an hour while I enjoyed a hail and thunder storm.  I saw a sign that said rest area 9 miles.  That was my goal.  All would be ok if I could make it there.  I did it with my temperature gauge pegged out at 240 degrees for 2 minutes.  Again the belt was still with me.  This time I broke down and called Good Sam's Roadside RV assistance.   I had to use the Emergency call box at the rest area since the pay phone had been removed and I was waiting to get to Walmart to renew my next month of phone time.   I felt really odd using that phone painted day-glo yellow and a large sign above it saying 'For Emergency Calls Only'.   It is the kind of phone that if you used it you could expect a SWAT team to show up any minute to render assistance.  I picked up the receiver and pushed the big red button (there is no number pad), when the young lady named Steph answered, I quickly said "This is NOT an emergency" before she could press the alarm to notify sniper teams that aid was needed at Call box 69.  I explained that I was the only person over the age of 12 without a cell phone and someone had removed the pay phone.  She sounded amused.  I don't think the call box operators get much business.  I explained I needed Good Sam's to send someone out.  She patched me through.  The automated voice said press 1 if you are in a car or truck, press 2 if you are in an RV or motorhome...I started to get frustrated and started saying 'Agent' 'Operator'  then Steph, the eavesdropping saint she is, asked what number do you want?  After recovering from the shock that she was still listening and at the same time glad I didn't give her the number to dial-a-date, I said 2.  She proceeded to be the middleman for the rest of the transaction.  In fact, she got my info and was going to talk to them on my behalf and for me to call her back in 10 minutes.  I call back, passerby's glancing at me at the yellow phone box.  Maybe I shouldn't have been crying and pointing at the men's room while on that phone.  One of the reasons I suspect Steph didn't get tons of calls is that when she answered she said 'Brian?"  She had some questions for me...What year was my motorhome?  What make and model?  Was it gas or diesel?  Then she told me to call back again in another 10 minutes.  This time Heidi answers, I ask if Steph is there, she goes "is this Brian?"  Really, does nobody else use those call boxes in Colorado but me?  This time Steph keeps me on the phone to speed things up...We discuss the weather, I tell her about my bus conversion and my blog.  Steph, if you check this, feel free to verify that I am speaking the truth, use the comment section below.   If they gave customer satisfaction queries for call box users I would give Steph the highest marks possible.   And if I got your name wrong because I thought it was short for Stephanie but really it is short for Stefani, my bad.
Anyhow, Steph got a repair guy out to me.  This fellow shall remain nameless cause I don't really have anything good to say about him.  Good Sam's is like AAA, they come out for free but you pay for additional costs.  We replaced a bolt and put the belt back on.  He charged me $95 for what he calls one hour of labor, which is the minimum.  I am the one who diagnosed the problem, I even told Steph to tell them what size bolt I needed and that I needed another belt, 94in by 1/2in.  He brought neither,  In fact, he tried to get me to ride along with him to get a bolt from the nearest town 20 miles away and he would charge me a buck fifty a mile to do it.  He instead used a bolt a quarter inch smaller that he did have onboard and made me sign a release that this was a patch job and that his company wasn't responsible for any problems arising from this.  His labor was literally 5 minutes.  I bite my thumb at him.
On the bright side, the repair held and I am now in Denver with internet access and phone service.  And I thank you for reading all this trivial stuff but my day has been long.  And although it was a hassle, I loved it.  I have been away from civilization for so long that I am so thankful to be around people again that even during the problem times, it is great to be back.  Besides I thrive an adversity and overcoming it.  And people like Tom and Steph would have never shined on my life without it.  

Tom's shop with Tom almost in the picture on the left