Earlier this summer, a Facebook friend’s RV had some mechanical difficulties outside her home state, and it consumed her feed. She posted at what felt like five minute intervals, quite frantic, with more and more exclamation points! (!!!!!) When I suggested that she try to see the breakdown as part of the journey and gently asked if she could schedule personal appointments farther apart for contingencies, the response was less than enthusiastic. She just wasn’t in the headspace to think positively, or proactively, at that moment, and I get that, but for the first time I availed myself of the “Snooze this person for 30 days” feature on Facebook.

If I possess any wisdom at all about RVing, it has been gained the hard way. One thing I know for sure is that mechanical problems are inevitable. The corollary to that truism is: Repairs can create a new pocketful of trouble.

Nellie Needs A New Pair Of Shoes

In general, RV tires should be replaced every five to six years, regardless of miles, or tread. Nellie had 2012 tires when I bought her. My preference was to replace them when I was in tax-free New Hampshire in 2017, but my budget dictated otherwise. I decided to wait until I was in tax-free Oregon in September 2018. I fretted those long nine months of 2018 about tread and PSI and blowouts, but mid-September finally found me in Eugene, Oregon for six new Michelins with a $3,000 price tag. Ouch! (Before you write me, yes, I took advantage of the FMCA member discount of $50 per tire.)

My plans immediately after getting the tires were fluid. I didn’t have another reservation anywhere for 10 days, and it was only three hours away. I figured if all went well I might head over to Bend or Sisters before that reservation at Crater Lake, but nothing was firm. This was by design.

Murphy’s Law And RV Repairs

Perhaps it was a mistake to choose a shop that only mounts tires, but I felt I had no choice. There was a serious shortage of Michelins in the entire state of Oregon. One shop had three. Another had five. Another had none at all and suggested I check back in October, when I would be long gone from Oregon. I felt lucky to get the tires and the appointment at Wyatt’s in the timeframe I needed. I did laundry across the street while Nellie got her new shoes.

I got back on the road, and something felt not quite right. The rig wasn’t pulling, but in order to go straight, the steering wheel was at 2 o’clock, and felt rather “squishy.”

Newmars are equipped with “Comfort Steer,” and I wondered if something had gone awry with that feature when the tires were mounted. I phoned Wyatt’s and they suggested an alignment, recommending Kaiser Brake and Alignment.

Before I continue to spin the yarn on this tale of woe, I should mention that Eugene, Oregon (well, Coburg, actually) is a mecca for RV and heavy truck repairs. Along with the usual suspects like GCR, Freightliner, and Cummins, there is an REV Technical Center for Monaco products, and various and sundry other outfits, including Paul Evert’s and Camping World. In this universe, Kaiser is the pinnacle when it comes to brakes and alignments, so it did not come as a surprise that they couldn’t fit me in for three weeks.

I called Camping World. They don’t do alignments. They recommended GCR next door. GCR couldn’t see me until the following day.

I dry camped at Camping World, then drove the short distance to GCR in the morning. I was a bit taken aback when I pulled the rig into the shop, because there was no pit, and no lift. I asked the technician, “How can you do an alignment here?“ He replied, “We use the ghetto method.” This did not instill confidence.

It turns out “the ghetto method“ is adjusting the tie rods and using a tape measurer. However, because they had no pit or lift, they had no leverage to loosen the rusty bolts on the tie rods and threw up their hands, suggesting Freightliner next door.

Freightliner could fit me in the next day. I went back to boondocking at Camping World.

The next morning I was not surprised to see both a pit and a lift at Freightliner, and an alignment machine that looked sort of like this:

Wait for it.

The machine broke while they were using it on my rig.

Did I want to spend the night in their parking lot and wait for a repair guy to look at the machine tomorrow?

What choice did I have?

The repair guy showed up at 2 o’clock the next day. It would take at least two weeks to fix the machine.

Freightliner suggested that I go to Brattain International Trucks a few miles away. They could see me right away.

Apparently Brattain is being acquired by another company. There were hardly any technicians in the bays. The service waiting room, usually reserved for customers, was full of men in their best khakis and polo shirts, holding faux leather portfolios, interviewing for various positions with the new company.

I did not personally drive my rig into the service bay, so I can’t say what happened. I sat outside with the dogs in a misty rain at a picnic table for smokers behind the building.

The tech finally found me and told me the wheels “measured the same.” He then asked when the new tires were put on, which at this point had been three days ago.

“Oh, that’s your problem. The tires are new. Your steering will go back to normal after they’ve been on for a while.”

What the actual fuck?

I replied, “Don’t blow smoke up my ass! Did you say that to me because I’m a woman?“ He looked genuinely flummoxed, saying he was only repeating what someone told him inside.

“Well I don’t know much,” I said, “but I do know that steering problems don’t just get better on their own.” I didn’t even ask him if I owed anything. I just got in the rig and drove off.

I returned to Freightliner, on the verge of tears. I contemplated driving to another town, but didn’t want to travel any meaningful distance with the steering in that condition. For all I knew it could get worse, or fail entirely.

I unloaded my frustration and verbal diarrhea at the two guys behind the counter at Freightliner, asking, “Could this just be a steering problem and have nothing to do at all with the alignment?” They both shrugged their shoulders and nodded.

It was 5:00 p.m. They made an 8:30 a.m. appointment to assess the steering. It was to be another stimulating night at Château Freightliner, where I spent the evening sandwiched between a big rig and a school bus, but at least there was enough room to open the living room slide.

When the technician took the rig away for service the next morning, the dogs and I headed to the nearest dog park to get away from the heavy trucking/industrial area of Coburg in general, and from the problem specifically. I had already spent too many days hovering around shops hoping for a solution.

We returned an hour later, and the service appointment was complete. The steering column was loose (this is a gross oversimplification, but it is how I understand it). It was tightened. The bill was $200.

The Moral Of The Story

1. If you do not have external restraints on your time (not counting the ones you put on yourself), build in a few extra days after RV repairs for contingencies.

2. Don’t ever let anyone tell you a steering problem will “return to normal” on its own.