I am writing from the Fibonacci Cafe in downtown Penticton, where I await the road-worthy version of the truck we bought 2 months ago. It seems the rad was chock-full of crap, causing tranny issues and overheating, and the lift, or transfer pump is totally hosed. Some of this, the dealer's mechanics should have found and fixed, and some might have been expected to be found by the diesel mechanics we had look at it before purchasing. Naturally, none of it is covered by our after-market warranty... I grumble, but I am resigned and well-trained to shut-up and pony-up.
Since we bought the Airstream new, we thought we'd find a used-truck and try not going totally overboard. Surprises like this are part of the used market, and while it's maddening, we feel fortunate to have made it through a dangerous situation safely.
We first brought the truck to a mechanic in Oliver, Sabyan Automotive, where we were told a radiator flush and new thermostat would be $500, plus a $125 diagnostic fee. The entire RV Park was unanimous in telling us they trying to rip-off two girls from out of town. Even the Dodge dealer found a funny smile teasing the corners of his mouth at that story. Still, the righteous never seem to be on the other side of the Service desk. Estimates top $2000 all in, but with such bargains, at least there is a nice shuttle-service. Amusingly (or not), even after deciding to pay the premium for the dealer's experts to find the problem, plus two BS diagnostic fees, it was my Dad who said, "make sure they check the fuel pump," that nailed it. Despite the exhorbitant diagnostic fees, it was only when I parroted, "my dad says you need to check the fuel-pump" that the real issue was found.
Yesterday, Kate and I left Dallas in the trailer with the A/C on, and traipsed around for the day. Penticton is a beautiful little town of about 5,000 tragically hip little souls. There are more dreadlocks, designer back-packs, and carefully conforming non-conformists here than I've seen anywhere. The kids boldly ask for (coffee) money as you pass. Later, they'll be string out in long lines up along the area highways, thumbs out, clear-eyed and certain in their charm and entitlements.
There is the coolest used book store anywhere here in the old downtown, where I had some trouble to drag myself away from yesterday. Cool little shops litter the streets. Just the name of this cafe lets you know how clever the inhabitants must be, where the americanos cost $4, and burlaps sacks and flat-screen TVs share artfully distressed wall space. The hipsters have congregated outside again today, spending long idle hours sipping and laying back as the long morning passes uneventfully. I'm not sure what drives the economy here, because I see neither blue-collars, nor are high-tech workers lounging on these sofas (blackberry-warning systems at the ready, should anything require them to blaze into action).
I'm on my own today, sipping my own overpriced americano, somehow drawn back here, (perhaps just for the WiFi I tell myself...? no, I didn't know it was here yesterday- well, I didn't know it, but I knew it, if you know what I mean), and waiting out the hours before either my truck is ready, or the clock strikes noon, and I keep my hair-cut appointment at a place that exactly resembles the Little Shop of Horrors. Anyway, I'm quite comfortable here, sniping from my sideline. My ball-cap is perched securely on my unkempt little head, and I scorn the too garish for cruise-wear Hawaiian shirts, fedoras and Vans. My perch is imperfect though, typing as I am, from behind an Apple logo, and secure that I won't be asked to move.
I'm feeling a little punchy today. It might be the madness of 3 shots of espresso, two muted flat-screens, the staff's tea-towels snapping haphazardly onto the bongo set, and tinny background club music that addle me. Maybe I'd be calmer at the beach with the earnest dog-owners and condo-owning 50-somethings ambling along in packs.
No WiFi there I'm assuming, but then again, Penticton is a pretty smart little town.
