Strolling Amok

Out With the Old…

A trip to Northern Arizona Wind & Sun today netted a 15-minute wait before anyone could even respond to my coming in the door. They are much more of an Internet company than a retail store. Turns out that my four Fullriver AGMs were at their supplier, Battery Systems of Flagstaff, some 5 miles away and would not normally be delivered until Friday. But I could go pick them up there. So I did, and was assured that I could drop off my old battery set there the next day. If NAW&S hadn’t offered me 10% off as an Expo discount…

I decided to install the batteries at Cinder Hill OHV Area, since it would take several hours to throw all bench storage into the bed area (roof raised), pull fuses, and carefully work the cabling to trade batteries one by one. It went well, with only minimal bloodletting, although a funky automotive-style post with an M8 screw raised the connection point enough to make the cable eyelets fit under the battery box lids a challenge. The only disappointment was that the new cells had self-discharged down to 12.5V, which means they had sat in storage for a considerable time. Such AGMs typically self-discharge at about 3% per month. Oh well. 6 months of storage shouldn’t affect overall lifespan. Considering that the completion time was 5 PM and there wasn’t much sun to be had, and that the fridge had been off for 3 hours, I set out the ground panels for whatever happy sunbeams I could collect. …And turned on the desulfator for good luck. That uses power too, but not much on this big a pack. It should normally take a dozen cycles or less for these batteries to get up to their full capacity. One decent feature of the Fullriver brand is that each cell includes a removable rope handle for lifting, which eased the transfer considerably. Fortunately, I can still hoist 63 pounds.

By the time that the new pack is reaching full cycling capacity, I’ll be quite a distance north and east of here. After dropping off the old batteries at Battery Systems in the morning, I will hopefully make my way toward the Monument Valley Navaho Tribal Park for some overpriced tourist action. The 10-day battery escapade has affected my travel itinerary a bit, shortening my stays and trimming off some sightseeing along the way to Illinois. Moab, that iconic tiny town where off-roaders like to prove their mettle and/or see and be seen, will probably get a mere Queen Elizabeth-style wave as I drive through. Their loss I’m sure, though I’ll try to roll through slowly enough to allow the denizens a brief Intrepid Photo Op. Yes, I frequently get admiring comments as I drive by, though they mask their ardor with wording that more resembles, “Move that wreck, old man! Can’t find the gas pedal?” They can’t fool me. They love it. To those that give me hand signals, I always notice and call back, “Hey, you’re number one with me too, eh!” Always acknowledge admiration.