It's a landmark day on the Odyssey as Chuck and Lisa join us for the northeasterly jaunt from Boston up to Acadia National Park in Maine and on back. Don't they look jolly up there, all safe and snug in Otto's comforting clutches, ready to head out on the open road? They think this is going to be easy, a walk in the park, a frolic in the woods. Ah, these poor, poor innocents. Little do they know of the forces of chaos and mini-mart food that can assail the Odyssey without notice. They can hardly suspect the psychological meltdown that afflicts Kristanne on hour four of driving, causing her to mutter ceaselessly to herself about, "the horror...the horror...," nor can they reasonably expect to wither the traumas of two hours of Sid turning every roadsign into a creative little song along the lines of, "Kenn-e-bunk-port, is the place for me. In two miles, there I'd like to be. Kenn-e-bunk-port is the place for me....." Poor kids. They never even had a chance.
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Uninformed of the dangers as they were, however, Chuck and Lisa actually seemed pretty eager to get packed and hit the road. We decided to take just Otto, stuffing him to the gills with all the camping gear we could carry. When you're talking about Chuck "Gadget-Man" Bohner, this can add up quickly. In addition to the standard sleeping bags, tents, lanterns, flashlights, and coolers, Chuck added some personal twists. Like the battery-powered air compressor for filling up the queen-sized air mattress upon which they could rest their weary heads. Or, the pair of clinometers used to see if the ground was level enough to pitch their tent on. Or, the half-bushel of nitrogen-restoring alfalfa seeds, in case someone needed to rotate their crops. I'm not even going to get into the stereo system, though I can say that our block party was pretty darn kickass. |
| After the incidents on the road in Boston in our last episode, I was loathe to have Kristanne drive again so soon. However, since I seemed to have the singular bad habit of nodding off for a few winks while driving (this really seemed to tick off Lisa and Chuck), we decided that maybe we ought to see if Kristanne hadn't come to her senses. There she is at right, giving us her best, "don't be silly, it's all under control" look. |  |
Thus reassured, Kristanne took us on into Freeport, Maine, home of L.L. Bean and, as near as I can tell, birthplace of the Factory Outlet store. This place was amazing -- buses streamed into town from hither and yon, delivering capitalist pilgrims to the temple of excess. Parking as far as two miles away, they were ferried in by shuttle bus to buy, buy, buy, spend, spend, spend. Some of these stores were so big, they included nurseries for youngsters who would just get in the way of the pure high accompanying a really outlandish spending spree. There, the little nippers were indoctrinated with updated nursery rhymes along the lines of, "The more you buy, the more you save, it's ok to lie, and not behave." I might be paraphrasing a bit there, though -- didn't quite hear it perfectly. Somehow, we managed to dodge the melting Visa cards zinging around the store and find an exit over near the "Things You Don't Need But Might Buy Anyway...Sucker!" section. Just in time, too -- I had my eye on a nifty combination melon-baller\stomach-pump that would have been just too perfect for entertaining. Real conversation starter, too, for that matter. |
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The excitement of Freeport proved to be too much for Chuck and Lisa. Sure, it looks like it's just Lisa sacked out there in the back seat, but unbeknownst to most, Chuck has actually mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open, like a lizard. He studied at the feet of famed master Helium-Lids No-Snore in the swamps of New Jersey for an entire summer to get there, but it has all paid off. He says he can even read while sleeping, now, though apparently his comprehension does decrease somewhat. We at the Odyssey applaud his achievement! |
| Acadia grew nearer and nearer, but we had errands to run. Not only were we completely without groceries, but Otto's propane tank was also on empty. As was his fresh-water tank. To make things completely silly, the grey-water tank was full, too. Even if we had fresh water, we wouldn't be able to run it until we dumped the grey-water tank. | |
| Luckily, we know how to do all those things. Which brings us to an Official Volkswagen Gripe; a first, I believe, on this Odyssey. It's propane-related, so we're not exactly sure at whose feet we should drop this one, VW's or Winnebago's. We'll give you the lowdown and let you decide for yourself. | |
| We've kvetched before (ad nauseum, some might say), about how Otto's low clearance pretty much prevents us from going on anything but the smoothest of dirt roads. A big reason for this is that the receptacle for filling up the propane tank and the related gauges and valves hang down well below the chassis. Though protected by a bash-plate, they're still awfully low. This becomes a real problem when it's time to fill the propane tank. The standard nozzle used for dispensing propane is too long to fit into the receptacle on Otto when Otto is parked flat. This is a pretty big design flaw. So far, we've been lucky -- the first place we refilled our propane, we were parked on dirt. So, we just scraped out a little hole so that the propane nozzle could fit. The second time, the garage where we refilled had a big pneumatic jack handy, so they just lifted us up about a foot to fill us. This time, we weren't lucky. No dirt. No pneumatic jack. Just Otto's own little hand jack. With nothing else to do, we jacked Otto up, filled up the propane, and headed on to Acadia, a little bit irritated, but mostly glad to be on our way again. Maybe we'll write a letter or something. |  |
Before we left the gas station where we filled up our propane, Chuck managed to take the Extreme Shot of the Day of me struggling to stow the jack away in the cargo area. Take heed -- this shot is not for the faint of heart. And, Chuck -- I know where you live.
Once we got to the campground, Chuck and Lisa erected a tent that would house the entire Chinese Olympic Diving Squad with room left over for the cast of the X-Files, besides. I'm not quite sure why I picked those two indicators of size, but there they are. With the tent set up, there was nothing left to do but inflate the air mattress. Chuck produced the battery-charged air compressor with a wicked flourish and set it to pumping. This little doohickey was probably a little bit quieter than the bombing of Dresden, but it would be close. We were making friends all over the campground, I assure you. After providing ample evidence of my superiority as a hearts player, we then went to bed, ready for full-on tourism the next day. See you next time on the Odyssey for more Acadian delights!
Total Miles for 7/25 = 302