Strolling Amok

Pops goes on tour.

The Mighty Furd Returns

Quick! Take a picture while they're still clean!

Quick! Take a picture while they’re still clean!

Today was a painful day on a couple of counts, but the Mighty Furd is now mechanically ready to handle the future Intrepid truck camper. The bed has yet to be cleared, but something stood out recently which impressed upon me that it was time to replace the original shock absorbers, which have crossed over the 80K-mile mark. This is normally easy to diagnose on a softly-sprung vehicle, but it gets progressively more difficult as spring rates go up.

I’d long ago noticed that the rear axle was twisting under power, a trait called “axle hop”. That’s when you apply power on a poor-traction surface, and the rear axle immediately begins jumping around, shaking the rear of the vehicle. That is a trait of leaf spring suspensions that’s tough on the rear U-joint, but I’ve lived with it for quite awhile, being careful to shift into 4WD-High as soon as it began. As originally delivered, no such trait existed, the axle staying steady as a rock. In fact, given the engine’s bottom-end torque, the only way to tell that you didn’t have traction was that the truck was not moving as quickly as it should for a given throttle setting. With one shock mounted in front of the axle and the other behind, such shenanigans are prevented.

The other tell-tale trait stood out with new vigor when I eased slowly over a speed bump at a border crossing on my way to Prescott to see the new Granby. I’d noticed that the front end kept bouncing a few times some 20,000 miles ago, but this recent event was positively embarrassing. The considerable weight penalty of the diesel engine exaggerates it, there for all to see. Is it possible to be shamed into new shocks? Time to make an appointment.

This was driven home on the winding pavement along route 89 just short of Prescott, which is sports car territory. On this twisty patch of asphalt, the Ford’s springs are too stiff to allow much lean, but the sensation of rubbing all the shoulder rubber off the front tires is there. The tall, squirmy tread on the Coopers certainly doesn’t help any here, but things just weren’t right for such a foray.

I’ve driven low-speed autocross in my misspent youth, and this section of 89 was somewhat similar. There was a certain rhythm that the pavement wanted, kind of a smooth touch of brake, dive in, find the apex within the constraints of one lane, and throttle briskly out of the exit to prep for the next turn. One might reason that, hey, a tall, heavy 4WD pickup truck is no sports car, but as delivered, the Mighty Furd was (astoundingly) the full equal of a then-new Mazda RX8 quasi-sports car I had, at least for pulling steady-state G’s. And that had sticky tires. The Mazda’s weight let itself be known at the same speed as the Super Duty, and the latter still had just a little more suds left. I kid you not. Sure, the physics make it impossible, but the speedo doesn’t lie.

So here I was on 89 with a nice couple in some kind of nondescript Toyota sedan in back of me. It’s not like I was going to try to lose him, but simply hold my end up so that the end of the thing could eventually come calling. It’s a respectability thing. You don’t want to be the slowpoke creeping along in the water wagon, but the Ford wasn’t having it. Goosing the throttle and dabbing the brakes went okay – I even chugged away on some of the uphill sections, but those long turns were excruciating. I was thankful to come upon a widened passing section so he could go on about his business. Last straw. I wasn’t heartened by some clown in a clapped-out Toyota truck-with-cap lurching around a turn headed in the opposite direction. He was doing the TV version of Kojak, well off the proper line and very nearly skidding over into my lane as he did his impression of driving fast. The goal is to be brisk and competent, not threatening other traffic.

The truck was struggling, and loading 1,500 pounds of aluminum into the bed wasn’t going to help. Time for shocks all around. That was finally accomplished today, and in 1972 dollars, the cost was a bit traumatic. I chose old-school shocks that are stiff and stay that way, as opposed to the more sophisticated (and more expensive) sensor-type shocks that try to go limp on smooth roads, and then firm up on bigger bumps. I want control, not a smooth ride. That can’t happen with such stiff springs, anyhow. Once they removed the defibrillator paddles and I hit the road, I found the end result to be a relief. She’s back to normal, such as you may choose to define that.

Oops.

Oops.

A problem I spotted on arriving home is a concern. I’d gone to the local LTVA camping area to visit, made a tight turn to get on the paved road, and found that a metal sawhorse was hidden under my passenger window. Never saw it as I idled around almost 150 degrees at full lock. It flopped over, I noted the scratch in the paint in the door (since patched), and set the thing back up again. Back at the ranch, I noticed a slice in the sidewall of the right rear tire. It’s down to the cords in some spots, so now I’m ruminating on the most appropriate all-weather substance to seal it off again. It’s so dry here that I have a little time, and if I can seal off the cords from air in a timely way, I won’t have to worry about rust or rot of the cords. There’s still heaps of tread left, so making a game try of it can prevent considerable heartache later. I know what you’re thinkin’, Virginia: duct tape, and I even have some in black! I’m gonna keep looking though. Might call the tire dealer tomorrow. He might have an opinion on that black goop they use around patching plugs.

[Update: a local tire dealer who specializes in retreads and vulcanizing for the local ag folk took a look at it and said, “Nope, don’t worry about it. It’s not down to the cords. That just a surface rubber cut. Not a problem. Doesn’t make any difference.” That simplifies my life a bit! I was a bit confused when I pulled in, as they had a ton of people at picnic tables under a huge permanent canopy, and wandering around masses of pickups scattered all over. Piles of BBQ’d meats, the works. It was customer appreciation day. They know how to do it right. My son does a different form of the same thing for his business, so maybe he’s onto something there.]

First Look

That's Martyn, co-owner of Adventure Trailers fumbling with the keys.

That’s Martyn, co-owner of Adventure Trailers, fumbling with the keys.

A trip to Prescott yielded a quick once over for the Intrepid-to-be. The goal was to pay for the thing, measure some critical storage for planning purposes, get a sense of the packrat’s hell I’d be dealing with, and talk over a planned modification that needs to be made. The unit is not yet washed or prepped for installation on the truck, and the truck is certainly not ready for it either.

Entry hatch open!

Entry hatch open!

My first impression is:

  1. Space. When you first look in with the roof raised up to walk-in height, it looks like living in it will be a claustrophobic trial. It’s just too short! Then once you step in and begin moving around, you start realizing, “Hey! Not bad! This thing is actually pretty darn livable! I like it in here!” It feels compact and efficient, obviously, but that expected “confined” aura just isn’t there. You like the thought of getting out to see what’s going on, but also like the thought of settling in to nap or get some work done at the ample table. It’s inviting, and that’s quite an accomplishment.
  2. Build quality. Absolutely outstanding. I’d expected a little realism here and there: slightly misaligned cabinet doors, or voids in the edges of the plywood pieces used in its construction. Maybe edging trying to work its way off. Nope. Every piece is perfectly sized, fits like a glove, and is as smooth-edged as a river stone. Unlike being in the Defiant’s bowels, you cannot possibly hurt yourself by sliding your hand heavily along an exposed edge. It kind of helps explain the pricey nature of Four Wheel’s products. You can see and feel the quality, not opulence. There’s a difference.
  3. Wowza on storage space. Although most storage cabinets are seriously compromised by necessary devices and equipment, the sheer number of cabinets, bins and hidey-holes lurking inside the front dinette Granby is much more than expected. There isn’t a whole lot of dead space in this cozy box. What’s robbed from Peter is used to pay Paul. My inspection to scour it for all there was sounded basically like chanting, “Holy crap, there’s another one!” Sorting out which space to use for exactly what may become a nightmare, but that’s a different issue.
  4. Using stacked bins will be an issue, because getting at all storage forward of the cabinets requires sliding the table out of the way and removing a seat cushion, or clearing the foot-well floor to allow its doors to be raised. Using bins would need to be carefully thought out to avoid having to disembowel things to retrieve a mixing bowl or fresh box of matches. I dislike having to do that. Persnickety, aren’t I? It’s what I do.
  5. Cabinet latches are also better than expected. Of course, everyone says that their catches will prevent floor dumps when the going gets rough, but these effortlessly open, click and latch easily, and lock securely. You might not like what you see inside at the next stop, but that door will not accidentally swing open to puke it all out. Incomplete latching is easily observed, since the loop handle is no longer flush.
  6. If my grandson ever gets in here, there will be no getting him out. Ever. It will seem to him like the ultimate treehouse.
This was a complete surprise. The leg area under the table is a flat bin perfect for folded clothing. Might want to shed shoes here because of the split, because any step up to get into the loft bed is best done cans grit-carrying shoes anyway.

This was a complete surprise. The leg area under the table is a flat bin perfect for folded clothing. Might want to shed shoes here because of the split, since any step up to get into the loft bed is best done sans dirty, grit-carrying shoes anyway. When the clever shower option is ordered, this area is a floor drain catch area instead.

Storage underneath each of the bench seats is generous but compromised by clearance for the truck's fender wells. This is the passenger-side bench. It's exactly 36" long, which is exactly the length of three of my AGM batteries. I'll try it once just for sport, but realistically, they will have to be packed in on end. That will be a major convenience issue, but only when replacement time rolls around. Terminal access and basic weight will be the issues.

Storage underneath each of the bench seats is generous but compromised by clearance for the truck’s fender wells. This is the passenger-side bench. It’s exactly 36″ long, which is exactly the length of three of my AGM batteries. I’ll try it once just for sport, but realistically, they will have to be packed in on end. That will be a major convenience issue, but only when replacement time rolls around. Terminal access and basic weight will be the problem.

Just forward of the passenger bench is a funky little covered hole. Maybe they intended that to hold my tripod, or an umbrella.

Just forward of the passenger bench is a funky little covered hole. Maybe they intended that to hold my tripod, or an umbrella. (It’s actually leftover space, since a forward cross-member must cut through the bench’s cavity.)

The center of the forward wall has a flat little tray for at least 800 pencils. This is right over the top of the water tank, and that odd-looking aluminum piece at center is to support the lid when you use it as a step up into the bed.

The center of the forward wall has a flat little tray for at least 1,500 pencils. This is right over the top of the water tank, and that odd-looking aluminum piece at center is to support the lid when you use it as a step up into the bed.

The cabinet oat the rear of the passenger side pretty much disappears if the cassette toilet is ordered. The large cabinet below this may be big enough for stowing a toilet of some kind. This is above, and is encroached mightily by an outside compartment for two small propane canisters. All this varies wildly with the options you pick. It's still usable, the distance to the cabinet door being 9-1/4". The bonanza is below this.

This cabinet at the rear of the passenger side pretty much disappears if the cassette toilet is ordered. The larger cabinet below this may be big enough for stowing a toilet of some kind. This is above, and is encroached mightily by an outside compartment for two small propane canisters. All this varies wildly with the options you pick. It’s still usable, the distance to the cabinet door being 9-1/4″. The bonanza is below this. Yep, that’s a shore power outlet back there for running the fridge on AC.

The top of this cabinet section consists of two good-sized bins. The one on the left is above the small fridge-freezer, and disappears if you order the Big Boy.

The top of this cabinet section consists of two good-sized bins. The one on the left is above the small fridge-freezer, and disappears if you order the Big Boy. The blue cover is on a mirror, so I can admire my dashing good looks all day. Below the fridge is another handy slide-in space as well.

This is funky, too. Driver's side cabinet forward end. Since there's no water heater on-board, you get the enclosed space, if you can use it.

This is funky, too. Driver’s side cabinet forward end. Since there’s no water heater on-board, you get the enclosed space, if you can use it. No raw edges in there.

The obligatory shot of the driver's side counter, with sink and two-burner range top almost big enough to use. I'll be curious to find out if they bothered to connect the hot side to anything, since there's no water heater. As-is, it'll make a great spare source for parts, I guess. That black thing below is the furnace, and there's a silverware tray drawer, a good-sized cabinet, and the default battery bin in the same area.

The obligatory shot of the driver’s side counter, with sink and a two-burner range top almost big enough to use. I’ll be curious to find out if they bothered to connect the hot side to anything, since there’s no water heater. As-is, it’ll make a great spare source for parts, I guess. That black thing below is the furnace, and there’s a silverware tray drawer, a good-sized cabinet, and the default battery bin in the same area.

The black plate you see in front of the sink caught my eye as seeming out of place. Nicely-labeled solar and battery wires are behind it, though I can’t help but assume that it’s mainly an access point for servicing the sink drain and sink attachment points. If necessary, it can also become a handy mounting point for add-on switches, fuses or outlets. The two sheets hanging down are a flap covering a screened window in the pop-up section, and another in the thermal cover.

A common complaint with the front dinette floor plan option is that each seat back blocks off the side windows, ruining any view out. True enough, each side window is completely out of sight. Fortunately for me, I will have no one to glare at me when I take the offending seat back and rest it on top of the bed to enjoy the view. The side dinette model has no such issues, making one’s floor plan choice quite important. After all, the front dinette looks like a four-place table and technically is, at 36″ wide. But 36″ is more of a two-adults-with-children thing – four adults would pack like sardines, and if you didn’t intimately know who you’re sitting beside, you would by the time you finish dining. As seating for two people, the dinette is luxuriously roomy, with a generously-sized table. For one space hog like myself, it is roomy, the table being just large enough to comfortably spread out books, papers, and laptop. The table mount is a marvel of sorts, having two smooth friction mounts. One allows positioning of the table center between the two benches, while the other allows table surface rotation. I did not test it out, but the dimensions suggest that it will be possible to sit along a bench, legs up, and still have the table in a workable side orientation.

The cabover bed mattress is plenty firm, despite some hints by Four Wheel that a softer foam is now in use. That will pose some issues for me, as I expected. It’s not as simple as swapping in softer foam, since foam this thin will never get supple no matter how mushy you go. At first blush, it looks like there’s the roof-down vertical room for a topper of some type, which should help a lot. Since the bed platform slides rearward to create a queen-sized bed, the extra “mattress” inserts are stored on top of the main section of foam, for travel. Whether they can be put to use to double up the mattress or serve in some other way will be seen later.

At first blush, it looks as though there certainly has to be enough storage space for one person to reside for seven or eight months, at least in the desert, where looking clean and civilized is not an expectation.  Then I recall the “pack list” I’ve begun, and the true challenge for me surfaces. I’ll need additional external space, sure, but the challenge will be to make daily or weekly items conveniently accessible. I’ve found that I dislike having to tunnel in to retrieve something, digging into one pile and creating another. Then when you finally find what you’re looking for and know that it will have to be out for awhile, you really can’t do anything else until you shuffle everything back to its original place. When you’re done with the item, the tunneling repeats once more. Emptying a cabinet to get at what’s in back is just necessary now and then, but it can get bothersome to do the same in major storage compartments. I had planned to load up the Grandby’s dining area with plastic bins, but it seems quite apparent now that if this is done, it must be done well or I’ll be moving and piling just to lift a lid and take a look. A truck camper like this one already requires all “daily living” items to be properly stowed each time the vehicle is moved, so I’ll need to be careful in the details of how not to make that requirement more onerous or time-consuming. The cleanest solution is to avoid taking enough with me so that any bins would be needed at all. Perhaps there is some parallel universe in which that could happen.

My impression as I walked away and climbed back into the Mighty Furd was, this is definitely going to work, and likely work much better than I’d initially hoped. Oh, I’ll panic a few times during the packing and stowing process in the Spring, trying to find the most sensible places to put what where, and lamenting whatever I’ll be denied for months at a time. But the combination of quality, features, space efficiency, light and color seems to remove any hint of squeezing into a dark cave. That, despite its suitability for true 4×4 travel. I can’t speak for the various shorter models offered for short-bed trucks, but the Four Wheel Grandby should prove quite workable indeed.

Problems Solved!

Problem Solved

My good bud Matt sent me this photo as a tongue-in-cheek solution to the Defiant’s issues with getting into the rough stuff. After all, who needs a cramped truck camper when a truck and luxo-camper fix is so easily available? I’m Googling for tires, wheels and lift kits right now…

The Three-Pound Bag

The wide lens shot tends to exaggerate space. Stand in the back doorway and keel forward, and you'll solidly kiss that tabletop!

The wide lens shot tends to exaggerate space. Stand in the back doorway and keel forward, and you’ll solidly kiss that tabletop!

Truck campers may be among the most space-efficient forms of RV, but once you get into the rough-terrain, compact pop-ups, even amazing efficiency doesn’t make up for not having much space to work with. I mean, the Four Wheel Grandby’s floor from front to back is a half-foot shorter than the Defiant’s width!

As I’ve mentioned earlier, since this pop-up folds down to just 56-1/2 inches to the roof, you can forget about stowing stuff in nonexistent overhead cabinets, or throwing things on top of the bed – the roof folds down to rest right on top of it. What you do with that firm pillow is your business. You can also forget about under-bed storage, where you lever up the mattress edge to reveal a flat but expansive storage tray suitable for clothing and fairly flat items. In the hard-tack world of no-compromises overlanding, where the priority challenges are from the terrain and not from within, creating such an under-bed space would compromise the Four Wheel’s extraordinarily low stowed roof height. Remember that earlier photo of a downtown overpass in Billings, Montana? It works the same for trees and overhanging rock and sometimes, inches make the difference. They especially make a difference when you’ve decided to jack up your truck’s suspension to improve its ground clearance and/or improve its muy macho aura.

Help one thing, hurt another.

Help one thing, hurt another. Two Happy Campers is a blog I recommend that you read.

In many ways, Four Wheel’s no-nonsense approach to be able to get a durable camping shelter from one obscure point on the terrain map to another is overkill for me. I mean, this is serious hardware, as such campers go. I’m not leading an expedition, goring the doors of the Super Duty on jagged rocks along the edge of a 500-foot drop, or fording rivers, or winching out of foot-deep goo, or filming a mini-documentary of a perilous journey. These campers are not built Read more…

Roughing It In Wellton

These are unusually wide spaces. The Furd is in its assigned spot, and the neighbor’s trailer – if there was one – would be maybe ten feet to the left of it. Notice that the Defiant’s defensive array antenna is up and in operation, with the photon launcher below it. On second thought, it might just be the TV antenna and A/C. I forget.

Just before leaving Pioche, Nevada, I double-checked the mileage of the planned run to Parker, Arizona and wondered what I’d been thinking. Way too long, so I cranked the first leg back to Searchlight, Nevada for a more manageable trip of 234 miles, which would take 4 hours of drive time. I have to say, that southern leg of Route 93 is beauticious drive, and I was passing one “scenic trail” and state park after another before hitting Las Vegas. Also, some lakes for fishing. The state parks didn’t tempt me much, but the lakes and “high clearance” trails did. I’ll have to come back this way once I shed the mighty Defiant.

Searchlight is a sparse little mini-village, consisting mostly of Read more…

Say Whaaa…?

"Come for vacation, leave on probation. Pioche Labor Day"

“Come for vacation, leave on probation. Pioche Labor Day”

Using its historic past to best advantage, some businesses in Pioche, Nevada still have a lonely few of the above T-shirts available. For some reason, the town of Pioche likes to make a really big deal of Labor Day, with a parade and all manner of events. You can view 2015’s schedule here. Just for fun, their basic website is here, and I recommend pulling it up solely to watch the two tiny promotional videos in the upper left corner. Thirty seconds each, and very, very well done. The whole thing sounds pretty interesting to me!

P.S.: The “Sunrise Salute” on Labor Day itself is pretty impressive, I’ll bet. Last Thursday mid-morning, there occurred the most powerful explosion I’ve heard, not having had the honor to serve in ‘Nam as a lucky teen draftee. From somewhere up on the mountain, it shook the air all around and a family of deer suddenly appeared coming from town, went through the campground, and trotted on out. When I got out of the trailer to look for maybe a blown residential propane tank and smoke, everything looked perfectly normal and stayed so. No sirens, no disaster, no nothing. Mining? Perhaps a little landscape renovation? I’ll never know, but it was BIG. Pioche’s Labor Day wakeup salute is described as “You’ll Hear It and Feel It”, so I have no doubt that they’re not exaggerating.

The Best Halloween Costume in Florida

Photo forwarded to me by my sister and brother-in-law.

Photo forwarded to me by my sister and brother-in-law.

Oh, Pioche!

Main Street, and the cafe/bakery on the right dates back to 1907.

Main Street.

[Caution for data-challenged readers: this post contains a heap of fascinating photos, so don’t click on the “-more-” link unless you’re feeling invincible. The photos are very small, but they do add up.]

If you’re driving about in sprawling suburbia and want a change of pace, like something to readjust your familiar assumptions that the entire world consists of huge malls connected by long strings of badly-timed traffic lights, Pioche is just the cure. I counted just one traffic light in town, and that was a single yellow caution light at one four-way intersection – and that wasn’t blinking because it wasn’t turned on. There’s also one yield sign downtown. Pioche tends to use those instead of stop signs. In the downtown area, unmarked diagonal parking is the rule, and long pickups like the Mighty Furd stick out into the two-lane Main Street, A.K.A. Business Route 93. No matter – cars idle around easily, since traffic here is defined by one or two cars, with nothing in sight in the opposing lane. There are no crosswalks – you saunter where you need to, in order to get where you want to get to.

A mine on the outskirts of town. It's hard for me to imagine the drop, but I've read that they hit water at 2,100' down, and had no practical way to pump it out. Today, it's a question of will and money.

A mine on the outskirts of town. It’s hard for me to imagine the drop, but I’ve read that they hit water at 2,100′ down, and had no practical way to pump it out. Today, it’s a question of will and money.

Pioche pretty much started rolling when silver was found there in 1864. At that time, it was part of the Utah Territory, and when the border with the Nevada Territory was later moved, Pioche came with it. Didn’t matter much, since Pioche remained in the middle of nowhere. Its remoteness attracted opportunists along with the miners. In those days, it was sink or swim. If you could not find a way to put food on the table, Read more…

Trippin’ Toward Pioche

Moving out of Wendover is not all bad when lots of little flying friends wait patiently at the screen door to come in and say hi.

Moving out of Wendover is not all bad when lots of little flying friends wait patiently at the screen door to come in and say hi. They gravitate toward whatever side of the trailer is on the draft side of the wind, especially when it’s cooler outside.

Monday began on a path not entirely unfamiliar. Having camped near Wendover for a little over a couple of weeks, I was near completion of breaking camp when a City of Westover pickup truck stopped by. Its proprietor worked at a water treatment plant somewhere up the long, paved climb and had apparently driven past each day, wondering just how much solar panel wattage the Mighty Defiant had proudly been displaying during her stay. On hearing that the total panel power approached 800 watts, he asked whether that was enough to run an air conditioner. He was within shooting distance of retirement, and had a modest rig with a very modest solar system, and found the whole solar thing to be a helpful but deep mystery when it comes to the specifics of possibilities. Naturally, I had to shoot down his hope of moving away from a generator for that kind of thing. I suppose that all those side-hanging panels make for a memorable rig, since I was surprised that he was already aware that this had been my third visit in as many years – something I hadn’t fully realized until he mentioned it!

A low cloud does its thing outside my door.

A low cloud does its thing outside my door.

By the end of the long conversation, he had volunteered that he had gone to culinary school and had a fondness for cooking, which neatly dovetailed with Read more…

Intrepid Solar Solutions

This 100W panel offered by Windy Nation appears to be identical, but comes with additional connectors.

This 100W panel offered by Windy Nation appears to be identical to Renogy’s, but comes with additional connectors. Its 20% efficiency is considered pretty good.

When it comes to angst in planning mods to the Four Wheel Granby, AKA Intrepid, fitting it out for solar comes right behind dealing with its lack of interior space. On the face of it, adding solar to the Granby is unusually easy: it comes prewired for solar whether you want it or not. There’s an SAE socket installed on the roof, and another on the back wall for plugging in ground-based solar panels. Order Four Wheel’s battery option, and you get your choice of one or two 80Ah (amp-hour) AGM batteries, as well as a battery separator to keep you from running down your truck’s starting battery. You can order their solar panels, whether roof-mounted, ground, or both, with a charge controller that comes along. It’s easy, it works well, and you’re rolling the instant you take delivery.

Four Wheel's 100W roof panel is one option that's light enough to cause no issues.

Four Wheel’s 100W roof panel is one option that’s light enough to cause no issues.

Heck, with 240 watts of panels available from the factory powering an optional 160-some Ah of batteries, it’s all anyone could want. I mean, it’s enough to run the compressor fridge and a laptop, as long as weather conditions are decent and you don’t overdo it. And, it’s a “top-heavy” system: there’s enough Read more…

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