Tales from the Christensen Cruiser

Tales from the Christensen Cruiser. It got that name the night before we left. Richard Turner brought a nice, cheap bottle of Champagne and busted it over the front bumper, christening it with that name, which he said just came to him. It was Ib’s truck, and was probably right up there with the most extravagant thing he ever bought for himself. He gave it to me la year or two before he died, and had many ideas for it, including bringing it to Richard’s place in Mexico. Ib took this rig deep into Mexico and it was the ultimate camper for him, a big step up from the Volkswagen buses he took as far as Central America in years before. I had decided to take Ib’s set-up a few weeks before, changing my plan to take the 68 Camper Special. Ib’s truck is just weird enough to make things interesting; like that it runs on both gasoline and propane. It has monster tanks for both fuels. Problem was that it hadn’t been used since I last used it in 2004 or so, and it had a few problems then. It had been mostly sitting for the past several years, but even after sitting for months, it fired right up for me. I drove it a bit and it was so much easier to drive than my other trucks. Power steering, power brakes, automatic transmission…all things that I am opposed to in a truck, but for this trip, it was just perfect. It changed my mind and I decided to take it. It is a 1973 Ford Ranger Camper Special with only 74,000 miles on it.

Fortunately, I had made out a report for Ib as to the condition of the rig so I had an outdated to-do list to start with. I knew the fridge was toast, so I scored a very cool replacement, which runs on 110 volts, gas, and also 12 volts, so you can keep things cold off of the truck’s alternator while you’re running. I had to take the camper off the truck to get at all of the propane lines and tanks so they could all be checked and certified, I off-loaded it in the back of the Brick House and took the truck to a great place in Auburn to get worked on. After that, I had to get the tires organized. Ya see, I have four old Ford trucks, (you’d have to know me…), and the tires were all wrong…long story short, I believe I changed a total of twenty tires to get all of the trucks shod in a way that made sense, and end up with the best tires on the truck making the cross-country journey. In doing so, I couldn’t help but notice that the brakes had never been replaced, so the nice folks at Stadium Titus-Will did that job for me. (This is progress people; at least I didn’t do that job myself!)

I had to unload all of my stuff out of the 69 ford camper that I also had, and get all of Ib’s stuff out of the Alaska camper, sift it all and pick what I wanted out of all of it. I got and installed the new fridge, but the door swung the wrong way, and it being a modern design, one couldn’t just switch the hinges to the other side, like on most refrigerators. Strange, they had that one figured out in the sixties – now they have to redesign that idea so it requires a totally new set of hinges, which I then had to order from Texas a week before lift-off.

I had help from Cos putting the camper back on the truck, a very nerve-wracking job, fraught with possibility of disaster, which was fortunately averted. Harold helped with the installation of the new refrigerator, and I threw whatever I thought I would need into the back of the truck. This getting ready to go rest, renew, and relax is hard work.
That’s always been the case – the hope is always that all the work ahead of time will make the trip go a bit more smoothly. It doesn’t always work out that way, but it’s what one shoots for anyway.

Sandy had a nice bon voyage get together with Harold and M.L. and Richard and Carol on Friday night. The only hitch was that Barclay; our twelve-year-old Golden Retriever wasn’t eating and not doing well.  He had a hard night, and wasn’t remotely interested in food, even treats. Saturday morning he was right on the path to the truck, keeping his eye on me as I packed my last stuff. I had a talk with him asking him to try to last until I got back to die, and also told him if he couldn’t wait that was fine too. I managed to get everything on board, said my goodbyes, and was on the road by one o’clock.

I planned to take US 2 across the country, a fine looking blue highway that crosses the country in the north, then cross over in to Canada at International falls and motor over the North side of Lake Superior and end up in Maine. To start, however, I thought I would stick to 90 until I determined how all systems were operating. I made it through North Bend and over Snoqualmie pass with no problem, reminding myself of the time I blew up the Banana Boat so badly that I threw a rod through the oil pan and the oil was boiling it was so hot. A longer story than I want to tell right now, but mentally, it was a nice hurdle to sail over mentally and physically. The truck was running well.

I spoke with Sandy and she had taken Barclay in to the vet and he was winding down – his heart rate was really fast and systems were failing. He had been failing for some time, but I had no idea that he was so close to death. Sandy had the very tough job of putting him down that night. The night I left. Sheesh. One of the toughest parts of having an animal is when that decision needs to be made. I had been saying goodbye for several months, but it was shocking that it happened when it did. He was a very wise old soul, and right up there with the finest dogs I have known. He also was the last living connection to my parents.

I made it to Vantage on the Columbia and pulled over for the night. The camper looked like a tornado had hit it – stuff strewn all over. I got out two ancient cans of Dinty Moore stew and had an easy dinner. Next morning I spent a couple of hours finding where things should go and stowing stuff. About this time I started to realize some of the stuff I had forgotten, the most amusing being that I had packed no shoes. I had the one pair of Stan Smiths that I was wearing with the holes in them and that was it. No address book as well. Those were the biggies, but in the big picture no big deal.

The next day, Sunday, the second, I motored east in a fairly casual manner, stopping wherever I felt like it, getting supplies. I found a pair of shoes at a western store in Ellensburg that fit well enough. I left Interstate 90 towards Spokane and ventured on to two lane roads, passed through Spokane heading to Idaho on US 2. I decided to stay in Sandpoint Idaho and stayed at a motel that had some RV spots for a fee. Twenty bucks got me power and water and the use of their pool, hot tub, and shower. Pretty good deal.

Monday was a beautiful day, and I made use of it tooling through Idaho and western Montana. I stopped near the border and drew a picture and sat in the sun for a while. Had a great time stopping at junk stores and yard sales. I stopped at Logan state park in Montana. It was the first time I had been totally on my own – no hook-up whatsoever, just what I had on board. It was a small park, on Lake Thompson. Tons of birds, but not another soul, not even anyone from the park.

Next day I visited Noel Poux and his wife Bonnie in Whitefish. Noel is my old friend Doby’s brother and I hadn’t seen him for years. I had never been to his place and it was just great. He is a rabid hunter and has amazing animal heads all over his barn. Beautiful house and compound in general. It also has a shop to die for, so I asked if I could do a little work on the truck. I had an exhaust leak on my driver’s side manifold. I managed to get all eight bolts loose without breaking one, which for you non-mechanics out there is a major victory. It was only as I was tightening it up that I saw the crack in the manifold. So it’s better, but needs a new manifold. The bonus is that since I have been in there and gotten everything loose, replacing it will be a cinch. I got to meet one of Noel’s best pals who was just taking some fresh jerky he had made out of the oven. Probably the best jerky I have ever tasted, there was both elk and buffalo if I remember correctly. Bonnie made a great dinner and then introduced me to their totally nuclear massage chair, which I let have its way with me until bedtime. The next morning we went to visit his mom Shirley, who I had known while Doby was still alive. I hadn’t seen her since he died. Nice visit.

After that I hit the road and made tracks east. More to come…