Home » Public Forums » GMCnet » [GMCnet] Just in from the GMC Bard
| [GMCnet] Just in from the GMC Bard [message #215436] |
Tue, 23 July 2013 10:46  |
Ken Henderson
Messages: 8726
Registered: March 2004
Location: Americus, GA
Karma:
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Trailers for Sale or Rent
I don’t really know why I insist on this motorhome “thing.” I have no
mechanical abilities, no excess of cash and really, nowhere to go. But for
some reason the lure of the road gets me every time and I find myself with
another coach with which I have no business.
Part of the attraction for me is that I like to drive something different
than the rest of the world. My 18 year old Cadillac is, to me, the
prettiest car in town. I wouldn’t swap it for a cookie-cut car of any
vintage. I will probably drive it for the rest of my life.
So it goes with my motorhome, a 1976 GMC Eleganza. Who wouldn’t buy
something called an “Eleganza”? It just sounds regal and elegant. I can
hear the BBC announcer now proclaiming that the “new heir apparent will be
transported from the hospital to Doololly Palace in a Bentley Eleganza.”
Oh well, maybe it was elegant in the 1970’s but it needs a little spiffing
up right now. I had a 1978 GMC but it proved way too new and modern to suit
my tastes. Really, the unceremonious loss of my job prompted me to sell
“White Trash” to a nice guy in Canada. From the moment it pulled away, I
missed it.
My new-to-me Eleganza is a nice coach. Owned for 30 years by the PO - that
is “previous owner” in motorhome lingo – it is mechanically sound. It just
needs some interior improvements, according to my DW. (Again, this is a
motorhome term that, around the grease pit, means “Dear Wife.”) I know it
would be nice to have everything modernized but I just hate to get started
almost as bad as I hate to spend money.
So, rather than jump right in with renovations, we took the advice of many
friends and have travelled a pretty good bit since purchasing the coach in
February. Most of the time, everything has been hunky-dory, but those
times don’t make for very good stories. Rather, I’ll tell you some of the
more interesting stuff that happened over the last couple of months.
Around the first of June, we visited old friends who had rented a beach
house. We took our good old GMC to Grayton Beach State Park and really had
a great time. About mid-week we had a real estate closing on a small piece
of property. We parked in a large lot next door to the attorney’s office
and all seemed well. As I stepped gracefully from the coach, my trademark
horn rimmed glasses fell to the pavement, the right lens detached and
rolled, almost in slow motion, into a sewer that it was full of black
water. I followed Elise to the closing with only one lens. I have no idea
what I signed, but I understand we now own another condo at the Redneck
Riviera. Also, I had fun freaking the lawyer out by scratching my eye
through the non-existent lens.
That trip to the Florida panhandle required a detour through Jekyll Island,
Georgia on the way home. For the second time, I was awarded a 1st Prize by
the Georgia Press Association for my humor column. Look at the map. It is
a long way from PC to Jekyll. On top of that, just outside of Panama City
the good old GMC developed a slight rumble that, in short order, turned in
to deafening roar. It sounded like we were standing at the north end of a
south bound Hell’s Angel convention. My right muffler had given up the
ghost.
As if the noise wasn’t enough, we were quite warm. Our on-board generator
that runs our roof-top air conditioners decided to take a little rest from
the 97 degree heat and died. We had no choice but to proceed with barely
enough time to make the Press Association dinner.
As we pulled into the campground, all eyes were upon us. Our muffler could
have been heard in Wyoming and darkness was approaching. We had 30 minutes
to park, shower, dress and drive to the Jekyll Island Club. The Griswolds
had arrived.
We got there just in time for the festivities. I was awarded the prize, but
was not given any time for an acceptance speech. I fumbled to return my
notes to my pocket without being noticed and graciously accepted my plaque
with one lens in my glasses and one still in the sewer. I scratched my eye
through the empty lens for laughs, but no one noticed. I now wonder if
maybe my pants were unzipped.
Next morning there was no sneaking out of the campground. I disguised
myself as much as possible and we headed home. The air conditioning worked
spasmodically. When it died, I had to pull over, get out and “jump” the
fuel pump on the generator to get it going again. That might not sound so
bad to some of you, but I rarely even pump my own gasoline, so “jumping” is
a real accomplishment for me.
When I rolled into Americus, the cockpit (that’s what us motorhome guys
call it) temperature measured 95.6 degrees. I pulled up in front of our
wonderful old house, jumped out and kissed the ground just barely missing a
fresh pile of dog poop.
I was glad to be home, and hopefully you’ll be glad to know that our
further adventures in the motorhome will be chronicled in a future column.
Boyce “Stick” Miller is an award-winning columnist living in Americus,
Georgia. Contact him at stickmiller@gmail.com
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Ken Henderson
Americus, GA
www.gmcwipersetc.com
Large Wiring Diagrams
76 X-Birchaven
76 X-Palm Beach
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