Pocono Club Race Motorhome Voyage

The 165 mile trip to Pocono started smoothly enough. The week before I prepped the old (84) Chevy Winnebago by changing the oil and filter, checking it over, giving it a quick wash, and packing it. The exhaust system needs some work, it seemed pretty loud last time I drove it, and I know there are some holes in it after the muffler, but hey, it’s old, OK! Anyway, I found a loose exhaust bolt on the header, so I tightened it, and it seemed quieter.

The unit looked good (it really does, for an old unit, anyway), and the fridge was stocked with water, gatorade, some cold beer, food, chips, and all the other comforts of home. I left the house at 8:00PM on Friday, picked up my friend Henry, drove through some heavy rain, and made it off Long Island by 9:30. So far, so good. Good weather, light traffic, should hit the track at around 11:00PM, relax and be sleeping by midnight. Well, it was a good plan, but it didn’t turn out that way.

I was telling Henry how I found and fixed an exhaust manifold leak by tightening the header bolts, when Henry commented that it didn’t seem quieter to him. After thinking about it, he was right, it was pretty loud, and you know what, it was getting louder. Oh well, so it’s loud, no big deal, right?

Now we’re in the middle of Jersey, cruising along on route 80 at 60 or so, when the engine starts to miss. It would run fine, then it seemed like the engine would shut off. Then it would run again. All the gauges looked fine, what was going on? The engine then smoothed out, so I tried to put it out of my mind. Then it got worse, the engine would cut out for longer periods of time. Not good. Then, on an uphill section of route 80, the engine cut out completely. DAMN!! I coast over to the shoulder, and it’s dead. I turn the key, nothing. What is going on??!! The thing had been running great. We think about it, and take a look at the exhaust system. Sure enough, on the passenger side, there’s a big hole in the manifold. Normally, this would not be that big a deal. However, the hole was right above the fuel and brake line. The hot exhaust was boiling the fuel, and preventing the car from getting any gas. Hmmm, how can we jury-rig something to get us to Pocono? Henry suggests insulating the fuel line. Sounds good to me. I take out some aluminum foil (when you have a kitchen, you have aluminum foil) and wrap the fuel and brake lines. After sitting on the shoulder for 45 minutes, the RV re-starts, and off we go.

The rig is now very loud, but we only have 65 miles to go. I figure we’ll fix it better on Saturday. We cross the Delaware water gap, only 25-30 miles to go. We pull away from the toll booth, and the RV starts running poorly again, then it dies again, about 100 yards from an exit. Now it’s pretty late, about 11:30, and I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I figure we just need to get off the highway, we’ll sleep in a parking lot for the night. The next morning after it’s cooled off, we’ll finish the trip. Henry suggests (he’s always full of good ideas – one of the reasons I take him places) that we use water to cool off the fuel line, so I lay under the rig and rub cold compresses on the fuel and brake lines, and the starter too. Boy am I surprised when the water instantly boils – on the brake lines (no wonder I was loosing brakes), on the fuel lines, on the starter, and even on the frame rails. The entire underside of the rig was burning hot. In fact, the insulation on the wires to the starter was burning off. Not good.

I tried starting it, and it wouldn’t turn over. The starter was too hot. However, I didn’t feel very safe sitting on the shoulder. We had the flashers on and put a reflector out, but if someone moved too far over to the right, they would have hit us. Anyway, by tying the two motor home batteries to the engine battery, we were able to turn the engine over, and it started. We got off the highway, found a hotel, and slept in the parking lot of a Motel 8.

I overslept the next day (I guess the fact that no 911’s were idling outside the window had something to do with that) and we got a later start than I wanted too. Only 30 minutes, no big deal. At worst, we’d get a bad a bad paddock space. We figured we’d be at the track in 25 minutes, and would find some way to fix the problem. Again, it was not to be. About 10 minutes into the trip, on the first real hill, the engine started to cut out again. If you’ve ever driven route 80 to Pocono, you know that right before route 380, there is a BIG hill to climb. Normally, I can only go 45 miles an hour up the hill. I knew that there was no way the rig would make it in that condition. Rather than get stuck again, we pulled off the highway at exit 45 (only two more exits to go :-( ) and parked it in a service station. After talking to the receptionist, we unloaded the race car, packed it full if essential goods, and headed off to the track. You know I was just about to cancel the insurance on the car, being that I just about never drive it on the street. Boy was I glad that I didn’t.

The bottom line was that the place couldn’t fix the RV that day (or the next for that matter) so I spent the entire event without it. I really missed it too. You get used to having your own bathroom, changing room, fridge, kitchen, and that stuff.

Oh well, the rig will be fixed soon, then I’ll use it for Summit Point in a few weeks.