Muscle Bound (Part 1)
Do you remember Popeye? I was recently tickled to find that there is a brand of spinach in the US named after this retro hero. Remember that pipe and that wink? And that iconic image of him sucking down a can of Spinach and his arm muscles would suddenly bulge and flex ready to face and fix the world?
No amount of spinach eating has ever made any difference to my weakling arms. It seems the sedentary office work I did before retirement has long since wasted my muscles, However, we all know there are other health benefits, and I have eaten a lot of spinach since coming to the USA in January.
On signing up for health insurance we discovered there is a free annual health check. Taking advantage of this before beginning our travels resulted in my being diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes, and Richard with high cholesterol. Since then, both of us have tried to fully embrace a healthier diet. Not just to ensure that we enjoy our new-found RVing lifestyle for as long as possible, but to ensure extra long quality time with our first grandchild, who is due to make an appearance in September. And, of course, any other grandchildren that might come along later…
Breathing a sigh of relief as Benny and the Jet left the Colorado cold temperatures and the daily rain storms of Colorado Springs, we were looking forward to spending time with Richard’s cousin Mark and his wife Jill. If it continued to rain, we figured we would at least be able to stretch our legs in their house, and enjoy some company. Moreover, we were going to be living in their guest cottage, and this meant we would be able to take the opportunity to take the Jet to an RV specialist to look at the wheels, which for some strange reason seemed to be moving closer and closer together.
When we left Texas, there were about 3 to 4 inches (10-12 cm) between the dual-axled tires. We know this because we fitted braces between the two tires on either side, whenever we were parked for any length of time. This is supposed to help tone down the bouncing that occurs when you walk about inside the RV. By the time we arrived in Colorado, the gap between the tires was 1 ½ inches (3 cm) on one side and less than an inch (1.5 cm) on the other. We drove those last 50 miles to Mark and Jill’s house on tenterhooks, wondering if the tires would eventually rub together and blowout! Every RVers nightmare.
On arrival Richard spent the first few days underneath the Jet, on the internet, and finally on the phone to RV specialists. Two local companies were so backlogged with work (RV season just about underway), they could not take a diagnostic look at the Jet for a week. We hastily re-booked our next campsite and prepared to prolong our stay as necessary.
After more checking on the internet and more phone calls, Richard figured out that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the axles nor the undercarriage. My clever husband determined the issue was with the actual tires. A phone call to a local tire company confirmed his suspicions. The tire belts were separating from each other, causing the whole outer circumference to bulge. We have no idea why all four tires were affected this way. The RV is second hand, and we do not know if the previous owners had pulled the trailer over the weight limit, or too fast, or with the tires below the recommended tire pressure – all factors which would contribute to such a problem. As a newbie RVer, Richard was very aware of all these, and had made every effort to take sensible precautions when towing, distributing the weight within the Jet evenly, and checking tire pressures each time before moving on.
Four new tires and a tire pressure safety monitoring system have duly been purchased, and fitted by Richard himself, muscle man that he is. My very own Popeye has saved us time and money at the RV specialists, and the Jet will be ready for smooth rolling when we move on to Denver on 9th June. It is currently resting on its new wheels at a neighboring property, it's traumatic near miss experience no doubt being soothed away by the roaring, vigorous rapids of the Arkansas River.
Coaldale sits in a valley on the banks of this river, which rises in Colorado and travels east to join the mighty Mississippi. The valley is lush now because of all the cold and rain Colorado and the rest of the USA seems to have endured so far this year. I understand it is not normally so green, nor are the mountains that surround the village quite so snow-capped at the beginning of June.
Since moving here six years ago from Texas, Mark has become a muscular shadow of his former self. He used to lead a sedentary office based life, like Richard and I, but it seems that living the "good life" in Colorado has transformed him. In building their new house and upgrading the original cottage, growing their felting business, and landscaping their 18 acres, both he and Jill have become lean, but not mean, machines. The dry winters and cooler summers of the Rockies suit them much better than the humidity of Texas. They have made friends among the local community, who seem to be of a similar age, (near to or fully retired), and of a similar social group - Internet based business owners or artists with a love of the land and interested in gardening.
Jill’s skillful cooking of her organically grown produce is greatly appreciated not just by Richard and me, but by the many locals and summer tourists who buy her goods at the weekly farmer’s market. But, for the fortnight we are spending here, we are not the only scoffers of Jill’s home cooking. This year, Mark and Jill have taken on two WWOOFers. https://wwoofusa.org/ Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms, USA (WWOOF-USA®) is "part of a worldwide effort to link visitors with organic farmers, promote an educational exchange, and build a global community conscious of ecological farming practices". In other words, it links those needing extra help around their organic farms with people willing to learn about organic farming whilst working for board and food only.
Australians Sam and Laura hail from near Melbourne, and had just finished 5 months in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, teaching snowboarding. They are both graduates in outdoor education, and hope to make careers sharing their passion for the land with children. Within a day, their energetic deeds around the vegetable garden put me to shame. Jill and Mark were busy preparing customer orders for felt. Richard was lying under the Jet. I felt totally superfluous.
Thinking about the stories of the pioneers who had traveled thousands of miles through inhospitable land to eke out an existence tilling this soil, I felt challenged to do my bit to help Mark and Jill improve their homestead. It would be somehow fitting to try to emulate that pioneer spirit, wouldn't it? But how could my weakling muscles possibly be capable of back-breaking weeding or moving stones? The most gardening I had done in the last twenty years was putting some bedding plants into pots and raking a few leaves. Racked with fear of failing, I chided myself for being such a wimp. I would offer my services to prove that I was not a lazy or a totally incapable retiree.
I cut my nails, put on my oldest clothing, and carefully tied the laces of my walking boots (there could be snakes out there!) before meekly asking Jill if there was something I could do to help.
The first job she gave me was to plant four hanging baskets.
To be continued...
No amount of spinach eating has ever made any difference to my weakling arms. It seems the sedentary office work I did before retirement has long since wasted my muscles, However, we all know there are other health benefits, and I have eaten a lot of spinach since coming to the USA in January.
On signing up for health insurance we discovered there is a free annual health check. Taking advantage of this before beginning our travels resulted in my being diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes, and Richard with high cholesterol. Since then, both of us have tried to fully embrace a healthier diet. Not just to ensure that we enjoy our new-found RVing lifestyle for as long as possible, but to ensure extra long quality time with our first grandchild, who is due to make an appearance in September. And, of course, any other grandchildren that might come along later…
Breathing a sigh of relief as Benny and the Jet left the Colorado cold temperatures and the daily rain storms of Colorado Springs, we were looking forward to spending time with Richard’s cousin Mark and his wife Jill. If it continued to rain, we figured we would at least be able to stretch our legs in their house, and enjoy some company. Moreover, we were going to be living in their guest cottage, and this meant we would be able to take the opportunity to take the Jet to an RV specialist to look at the wheels, which for some strange reason seemed to be moving closer and closer together.
When we left Texas, there were about 3 to 4 inches (10-12 cm) between the dual-axled tires. We know this because we fitted braces between the two tires on either side, whenever we were parked for any length of time. This is supposed to help tone down the bouncing that occurs when you walk about inside the RV. By the time we arrived in Colorado, the gap between the tires was 1 ½ inches (3 cm) on one side and less than an inch (1.5 cm) on the other. We drove those last 50 miles to Mark and Jill’s house on tenterhooks, wondering if the tires would eventually rub together and blowout! Every RVers nightmare.
On arrival Richard spent the first few days underneath the Jet, on the internet, and finally on the phone to RV specialists. Two local companies were so backlogged with work (RV season just about underway), they could not take a diagnostic look at the Jet for a week. We hastily re-booked our next campsite and prepared to prolong our stay as necessary.
After more checking on the internet and more phone calls, Richard figured out that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the axles nor the undercarriage. My clever husband determined the issue was with the actual tires. A phone call to a local tire company confirmed his suspicions. The tire belts were separating from each other, causing the whole outer circumference to bulge. We have no idea why all four tires were affected this way. The RV is second hand, and we do not know if the previous owners had pulled the trailer over the weight limit, or too fast, or with the tires below the recommended tire pressure – all factors which would contribute to such a problem. As a newbie RVer, Richard was very aware of all these, and had made every effort to take sensible precautions when towing, distributing the weight within the Jet evenly, and checking tire pressures each time before moving on.
 |
| New normal size tire next to old bulging tire! |
Four new tires and a tire pressure safety monitoring system have duly been purchased, and fitted by Richard himself, muscle man that he is. My very own Popeye has saved us time and money at the RV specialists, and the Jet will be ready for smooth rolling when we move on to Denver on 9th June. It is currently resting on its new wheels at a neighboring property, it's traumatic near miss experience no doubt being soothed away by the roaring, vigorous rapids of the Arkansas River.
Coaldale sits in a valley on the banks of this river, which rises in Colorado and travels east to join the mighty Mississippi. The valley is lush now because of all the cold and rain Colorado and the rest of the USA seems to have endured so far this year. I understand it is not normally so green, nor are the mountains that surround the village quite so snow-capped at the beginning of June.
Since moving here six years ago from Texas, Mark has become a muscular shadow of his former self. He used to lead a sedentary office based life, like Richard and I, but it seems that living the "good life" in Colorado has transformed him. In building their new house and upgrading the original cottage, growing their felting business, and landscaping their 18 acres, both he and Jill have become lean, but not mean, machines. The dry winters and cooler summers of the Rockies suit them much better than the humidity of Texas. They have made friends among the local community, who seem to be of a similar age, (near to or fully retired), and of a similar social group - Internet based business owners or artists with a love of the land and interested in gardening.
Jill’s skillful cooking of her organically grown produce is greatly appreciated not just by Richard and me, but by the many locals and summer tourists who buy her goods at the weekly farmer’s market. But, for the fortnight we are spending here, we are not the only scoffers of Jill’s home cooking. This year, Mark and Jill have taken on two WWOOFers. https://wwoofusa.org/ Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms, USA (WWOOF-USA®) is "part of a worldwide effort to link visitors with organic farmers, promote an educational exchange, and build a global community conscious of ecological farming practices". In other words, it links those needing extra help around their organic farms with people willing to learn about organic farming whilst working for board and food only.
Australians Sam and Laura hail from near Melbourne, and had just finished 5 months in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, teaching snowboarding. They are both graduates in outdoor education, and hope to make careers sharing their passion for the land with children. Within a day, their energetic deeds around the vegetable garden put me to shame. Jill and Mark were busy preparing customer orders for felt. Richard was lying under the Jet. I felt totally superfluous.
Thinking about the stories of the pioneers who had traveled thousands of miles through inhospitable land to eke out an existence tilling this soil, I felt challenged to do my bit to help Mark and Jill improve their homestead. It would be somehow fitting to try to emulate that pioneer spirit, wouldn't it? But how could my weakling muscles possibly be capable of back-breaking weeding or moving stones? The most gardening I had done in the last twenty years was putting some bedding plants into pots and raking a few leaves. Racked with fear of failing, I chided myself for being such a wimp. I would offer my services to prove that I was not a lazy or a totally incapable retiree.
I cut my nails, put on my oldest clothing, and carefully tied the laces of my walking boots (there could be snakes out there!) before meekly asking Jill if there was something I could do to help.
The first job she gave me was to plant four hanging baskets.
To be continued...
Saskia thank you for sharing your exciting experiences.
ReplyDeleteInteresting as usual. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDelete