I never visited Soviet Russia, but I imagine it looked a lot like the California DMV.
Many years ago, my local DMV office in Laguna Hills, California, was a lovely place. It had blue carpeting, counters made of wood (or some other dark substance), low lighting, comfortable chairs, and friendly people. On the few occasions I was there, I never experienced more than a 10-minute wait. It resembled a Starbucks more than a government office.
Then something happened. At some point the office was remodeled and transformed into the height of bureaucratic institutionalism.
Now there are white floors, white walls, and glaring fluorescent lights. There are rows of chairs cordoned off into what resembles a holding cell. The line to check in extends out the door, and once you check in, you are tersely given a number and sent to the holding cell. Last year when I had to renew my license in person, we walked in and Elias immediately whimpered, "I don't like this place." It does give off a truly cold, unsettling vibe.
Our experience in Texas was much different. Before we left on our trip I had to call a few times with questions. The folks at the Polk County Tax Assessor's Office and the Department of Public Safety answered both the phone and my questions in a timely manner. When we got there, we saw that the Tax Assessor's Office looked like something out of Bedford Falls. I half expected to see Jimmy Stewart manning the phone. The people were helpful and, best of all, accessible.
Even so, I was concerned about my task for today: calling to get a letter stating that we never had the title to our Pilot issued in Texas. It seemed like a slightly unusual request, plus it's always harder to prove a negative. But I figured I needed to call and get the ball rolling.
So I called the Tax Assessor's Office where we had registered our cars. The woman who answered transfered me to the vehicle registration department (which was probably the woman sitting right next to her), and I explained the situation. She asked for our license plate number, our names, and an address. Then she said, "Ok, I'll try to get that letter in the mail to you today."
Wow.
Needless to say, we will miss that kind of efficiency.
I just tried making an appointment to get my license here in California, since you're supposed to get your license within 10 days of becoming a resident. The first available time slot is December 7.
Our life on the road
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Monday, November 1, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Photos from the trip
Sorry it's been a few days. We've been settling back into our "normal" routine.
Lucy seemed happy to be picked up from boarding, although as usual she never lacked attention while she was there. Apparently they had her sit in on some staff meetings.
Elias has started first grade, and we have work due soon so I've been scrambling to make up for the two weeks we lost while on the road. (Not that we didn't do educational stuff during the travels, and not that I can't have that count as our work, but I do need to get our organization in better shape.)
Steve has gone back to work.
The house is still for sale.
Oh, and Camping World might have messed up our hitch installation. Steve is talking with a hitch expert about that. Could be fun.
But without further ado, here are some photos from our trip, including the remaining photos of Homer's interior that I wasn't able to upload before.
Here's a big rocket at the Johnson Space Center in Houston. See Steve and the kids at the bottom? (At least I think that's Steve and the kids...)
This is the guard station at the Igloo factory in Brookshire, TX. (For the record, they have a factory store there, and we scored about $60 worth of coolers for $20.)
This is the World's Largest Fire Hydrant in Beaumont, TX. It's actually only the third-largest now, but who's counting? It sits outside the Texas Fire Museum and was created to publicize the release of the live-action version of Disney's 101 Dalmatians.
They also have some normal-sized Dalmatian-themed hydrants:
And Elias found a Hidden Mickey on one:
Anna driving a fire truck in the museum:
And Elias:
Here's Anna by the river at the KOA in Junction, TX:
Elias at the site where Billy the Kid was sentenced:
Anna being a goof:
The kids' wardrobe and bathroom in Homer:
Our first dinner in Homer:
A photo of the whole rig:
And finally, a rock Elias found at the campground in Yuma. He thought it looked like a fifth wheel, and I'd say he's absolutely right:
Lucy seemed happy to be picked up from boarding, although as usual she never lacked attention while she was there. Apparently they had her sit in on some staff meetings.
Elias has started first grade, and we have work due soon so I've been scrambling to make up for the two weeks we lost while on the road. (Not that we didn't do educational stuff during the travels, and not that I can't have that count as our work, but I do need to get our organization in better shape.)
Steve has gone back to work.
The house is still for sale.
Oh, and Camping World might have messed up our hitch installation. Steve is talking with a hitch expert about that. Could be fun.
But without further ado, here are some photos from our trip, including the remaining photos of Homer's interior that I wasn't able to upload before.
Here's a big rocket at the Johnson Space Center in Houston. See Steve and the kids at the bottom? (At least I think that's Steve and the kids...)
This is the guard station at the Igloo factory in Brookshire, TX. (For the record, they have a factory store there, and we scored about $60 worth of coolers for $20.)
This is the World's Largest Fire Hydrant in Beaumont, TX. It's actually only the third-largest now, but who's counting? It sits outside the Texas Fire Museum and was created to publicize the release of the live-action version of Disney's 101 Dalmatians.
They also have some normal-sized Dalmatian-themed hydrants:
And Elias found a Hidden Mickey on one:
Anna driving a fire truck in the museum:
And Elias:
Here's Anna by the river at the KOA in Junction, TX:
Elias at the site where Billy the Kid was sentenced:
Anna being a goof:
The kids' wardrobe and bathroom in Homer:
Our first dinner in Homer:
A photo of the whole rig:
And finally, a rock Elias found at the campground in Yuma. He thought it looked like a fifth wheel, and I'd say he's absolutely right:
Friday, September 3, 2010
We're on our way!
We have made it out of Southeast Texas!
And we have hot water!
Someone from my car seat message board (the person who initially shared the link to the trailer we wound up buying) suggested that we see if we have an electronic water heater. Steve poked around a little this morning and didn't see one, but he did realize that we had propane after all. I'm willing to give him a break since he was setting everything up in the dark with rain pouring on him last night.
We left the Houston area this morning and figured we'd see how far we made it. We did have to plan a little bit since the middle of Texas has large expanses of nothingness. I had campgrounds picked out at different intervals, but they were all either too close or too far.
Eventually we decided to stay at one of the "too close" campgrounds. We figured with all the problems we've been having it was better to err on the side of having extra time to set up. Plus Elias had been begging to go swimming, something we hadn't had much of a chance for with everything going crazy.
So we pulled into a Kampground of America camp. We were apprehensive. Steve hadn't had good luck with KOAs in the past and I have an aversion to things that are intentionally misspelled, especially with a K.
But this place is actually really nice. Pricey, but nice. The "playground" is kind of lame, but Elias enjoyed the pool, and the campground is on a lovely river. Anna and I went to hang out there while Steve and Elias swam. We saw several teeny butterflies, some damselflies (I think), and some kind of huge yet elusive jumping bugs. They even have canoes for rent, which I would love to do if we were staying here longer.
For dinner we went to a hole-in-the-wall-inside-a-grocery-store barbeque place and had, possibly, the best meal of our trip. Steve and I were both full half-way through our meals but couldn't stop eating. It was so good I might dedicate another post to it.
We're actually having--dare I say it?--fun! Not that I didn't hope it would be fun, but the trip has been so stressful I had largely given up on it.
I do feel a shift, like the clouds have parted and things are looking up. That statement will be hilarious if we wind up encountering some horrendous problem tomorrow, but I'm sticking with it. I think maybe our luck is finally changing.
And we have hot water!
Someone from my car seat message board (the person who initially shared the link to the trailer we wound up buying) suggested that we see if we have an electronic water heater. Steve poked around a little this morning and didn't see one, but he did realize that we had propane after all. I'm willing to give him a break since he was setting everything up in the dark with rain pouring on him last night.
We left the Houston area this morning and figured we'd see how far we made it. We did have to plan a little bit since the middle of Texas has large expanses of nothingness. I had campgrounds picked out at different intervals, but they were all either too close or too far.
Eventually we decided to stay at one of the "too close" campgrounds. We figured with all the problems we've been having it was better to err on the side of having extra time to set up. Plus Elias had been begging to go swimming, something we hadn't had much of a chance for with everything going crazy.
So we pulled into a Kampground of America camp. We were apprehensive. Steve hadn't had good luck with KOAs in the past and I have an aversion to things that are intentionally misspelled, especially with a K.
But this place is actually really nice. Pricey, but nice. The "playground" is kind of lame, but Elias enjoyed the pool, and the campground is on a lovely river. Anna and I went to hang out there while Steve and Elias swam. We saw several teeny butterflies, some damselflies (I think), and some kind of huge yet elusive jumping bugs. They even have canoes for rent, which I would love to do if we were staying here longer.
For dinner we went to a hole-in-the-wall-inside-a-grocery-store barbeque place and had, possibly, the best meal of our trip. Steve and I were both full half-way through our meals but couldn't stop eating. It was so good I might dedicate another post to it.
We're actually having--dare I say it?--fun! Not that I didn't hope it would be fun, but the trip has been so stressful I had largely given up on it.
I do feel a shift, like the clouds have parted and things are looking up. That statement will be hilarious if we wind up encountering some horrendous problem tomorrow, but I'm sticking with it. I think maybe our luck is finally changing.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
We might ACTUALLY be getting out of here...
All right.
So, as you know, we had a hydraulic problem on our brand-spanking-new Cedar Creek 36B2 (known to his friends as Homer).
Forest River and the company that makes the hydraulic system sent out a technician who they had to dispatch from Fort Worth, but he got here the other night around 7 p.m. Steve hung out with him while he worked into the night trying to diagnose the problem.
I don't completely understand the technical aspects because I know absolutely nothing about hydraulics, but basically a major component blew out. The technician was in touch with the engineer who designed the system, and the engineer was confident that it was just a faulty part, not a systematic failure.
So yesterday they had the part overnighted, and the idea was that the technician would be able to put it on very quickly, and then we could test the system just to make sure all was well. Forest River also arranged for us to take Homer to a local dealership tomorrow to have the underbelly cleaned and insulation replaced.
That would mean (ideally) the trailer would be ready to go on Saturday morning, just in time for Labor Day weekend. We worried that RV parks along the way might be full so we contemplated staying here until Tuesday, but we really, really, really just want to get home.
Anyway, the technician was here all day yesterday without much to do since the part wasn't arriving until this morning. To keep busy he decided to clean out the underbelly and replace the insulation himself. Steve says he was very thorough and appeared to do a very good job. That meant that we could skip the dealership tomorrow and hit the road, presuming the replacement part fixed the problem.
The part arrived at 8 this morning. The technician got it on and he and Steve ran through the systems a few times. Everything seems to be running well, and we're keeping our fingers crossed that it continues to.
Steve then realized that after installing the hitch and the connector plate, Camping World had failed to file down the metal where they welded the parts in (or something like that). So he's on his way back there with Homer and the Canyonero to have them fix that, but it should only take an hour or so.
If all goes well (I realize at this point that's a big "if"), we will sleep in Homer tonight and get on the road tomorrow. We figure the places we're likely to be staying aren't big tourist destinations so we're not too concerned about parks being full. If they are, we'll stay in rest stops and have even more fun stuff to write about.
Please cross your fingers that things go smoothly from here on out. Southeast Texas is a lovely place, but we are so done with it for now.
So, as you know, we had a hydraulic problem on our brand-spanking-new Cedar Creek 36B2 (known to his friends as Homer).
Forest River and the company that makes the hydraulic system sent out a technician who they had to dispatch from Fort Worth, but he got here the other night around 7 p.m. Steve hung out with him while he worked into the night trying to diagnose the problem.
I don't completely understand the technical aspects because I know absolutely nothing about hydraulics, but basically a major component blew out. The technician was in touch with the engineer who designed the system, and the engineer was confident that it was just a faulty part, not a systematic failure.
So yesterday they had the part overnighted, and the idea was that the technician would be able to put it on very quickly, and then we could test the system just to make sure all was well. Forest River also arranged for us to take Homer to a local dealership tomorrow to have the underbelly cleaned and insulation replaced.
That would mean (ideally) the trailer would be ready to go on Saturday morning, just in time for Labor Day weekend. We worried that RV parks along the way might be full so we contemplated staying here until Tuesday, but we really, really, really just want to get home.
Anyway, the technician was here all day yesterday without much to do since the part wasn't arriving until this morning. To keep busy he decided to clean out the underbelly and replace the insulation himself. Steve says he was very thorough and appeared to do a very good job. That meant that we could skip the dealership tomorrow and hit the road, presuming the replacement part fixed the problem.
The part arrived at 8 this morning. The technician got it on and he and Steve ran through the systems a few times. Everything seems to be running well, and we're keeping our fingers crossed that it continues to.
Steve then realized that after installing the hitch and the connector plate, Camping World had failed to file down the metal where they welded the parts in (or something like that). So he's on his way back there with Homer and the Canyonero to have them fix that, but it should only take an hour or so.
If all goes well (I realize at this point that's a big "if"), we will sleep in Homer tonight and get on the road tomorrow. We figure the places we're likely to be staying aren't big tourist destinations so we're not too concerned about parks being full. If they are, we'll stay in rest stops and have even more fun stuff to write about.
Please cross your fingers that things go smoothly from here on out. Southeast Texas is a lovely place, but we are so done with it for now.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
I know why this is happening
I'm a bit embarrassed by Anna's birth video. Not because of the nudity, but because of what I'm caught on tape asking a split second after she emerged. Most normal people would have asked something like, "Is it a boy or a girl?" Instead, I asked (frantically and repeatedly) what time it was. Poor Steve, instead of welcoming his new baby into the world, is seen on the video fumbling with his cell phone trying to find out. Finally someone answered and I could get on with other things, like realizing I had a baby girl.
Why was the time so pressing? Because you can't get a complete astrological chart without an accurate time of birth.
As I've mentioned before, I believe in omens and superstitions. I also believe in astrology and metaphysics and other things that most people view as whacky. I just do, and I'm not going to apologize for it.
So I have to believe that the planets are the cause of the problems we've been having. Actually, just one planet in particular, that pesky Mercury.
A few days into our trip my mom reminded me that Mercury Retrograde had started the day we left California. Mercury Retrograde occurs a few times a year and lasts for a couple weeks each time. During that period, Mercury appears to be going backward and it makes things go haywire. You're not supposed to undertake any major new projects, make large purchases or sign legal documents.
I wasn't worried, though. I had always operated with the understanding that it was ok to finish things during Retrograde--you just couldn't start anything new. Since we had applied for the loan, ordered the trailer, and paid our deposit well ahead of Mercury Retrograde, we should be fine.
But with things going so utterly bad, I looked into it some more. It turns out I might have been wrong.
The information I found today specifically said not to end any major projects during Retrograde if it meant signing documents or contracts. One should allow extra time for travel. And transportation issues are especially affected. (I also learned that one shouldn't hold elections during Mercury Retrograde, a fact I'll be sure to remember should I ever stage a coup.)
My mom placed a call to our astrologer (yes, we have one) to see if there's anything we can do to make this better, but we haven't heard back yet. Mercury Retrograde doesn't end until September 12, so we might still be in for a long haul. (As an aside, the first time I heard about Mercury Retrograde was when I accompanied my mom to a meeting with our astrologer when I was about 10. I thought she was referring to a type of car. I still think the Mercury Retrograde would be an awesome car name, though it would probably be a terrible car.)
On the topic of superstitions, a while back I wrote about EcoJoe, the environmentally friendly St. Joseph-house-selling kit. The owner of the company read my blog and asked if I'd like to take St. Joe on our travels and photograph him with different landmarks, sort of like the Travelocity gnome. Of course I would! She also said it was fine if I buried him in the meantime if I needed help selling our house.
I was quite conflicted about what to do. I didn't want to bury him because I worried he might clash with or negate the other St. Joseph I already had buried. I didn't want to disinter the original St. Joe lest he get mad at me and seek revenge (I have issues, I know). At the same time, I didn't want to bring him with us on this trip. After all, his role is to sell property, and we're trying to buy something. I could have just let him sit, unburied, in the house, but at the last minute I buried him in a different part of the yard as the other Joe. Hopefully they're playing nice.
Anyway, EcoJoe has missed out on some roadside attractions, but I think it's best that he's not with us on this trip. I already have one supernatural force trying to keep us from this trailer, and that's more than enough.
Why was the time so pressing? Because you can't get a complete astrological chart without an accurate time of birth.
As I've mentioned before, I believe in omens and superstitions. I also believe in astrology and metaphysics and other things that most people view as whacky. I just do, and I'm not going to apologize for it.
So I have to believe that the planets are the cause of the problems we've been having. Actually, just one planet in particular, that pesky Mercury.
A few days into our trip my mom reminded me that Mercury Retrograde had started the day we left California. Mercury Retrograde occurs a few times a year and lasts for a couple weeks each time. During that period, Mercury appears to be going backward and it makes things go haywire. You're not supposed to undertake any major new projects, make large purchases or sign legal documents.
I wasn't worried, though. I had always operated with the understanding that it was ok to finish things during Retrograde--you just couldn't start anything new. Since we had applied for the loan, ordered the trailer, and paid our deposit well ahead of Mercury Retrograde, we should be fine.
But with things going so utterly bad, I looked into it some more. It turns out I might have been wrong.
The information I found today specifically said not to end any major projects during Retrograde if it meant signing documents or contracts. One should allow extra time for travel. And transportation issues are especially affected. (I also learned that one shouldn't hold elections during Mercury Retrograde, a fact I'll be sure to remember should I ever stage a coup.)
My mom placed a call to our astrologer (yes, we have one) to see if there's anything we can do to make this better, but we haven't heard back yet. Mercury Retrograde doesn't end until September 12, so we might still be in for a long haul. (As an aside, the first time I heard about Mercury Retrograde was when I accompanied my mom to a meeting with our astrologer when I was about 10. I thought she was referring to a type of car. I still think the Mercury Retrograde would be an awesome car name, though it would probably be a terrible car.)
On the topic of superstitions, a while back I wrote about EcoJoe, the environmentally friendly St. Joseph-house-selling kit. The owner of the company read my blog and asked if I'd like to take St. Joe on our travels and photograph him with different landmarks, sort of like the Travelocity gnome. Of course I would! She also said it was fine if I buried him in the meantime if I needed help selling our house.
I was quite conflicted about what to do. I didn't want to bury him because I worried he might clash with or negate the other St. Joseph I already had buried. I didn't want to disinter the original St. Joe lest he get mad at me and seek revenge (I have issues, I know). At the same time, I didn't want to bring him with us on this trip. After all, his role is to sell property, and we're trying to buy something. I could have just let him sit, unburied, in the house, but at the last minute I buried him in a different part of the yard as the other Joe. Hopefully they're playing nice.
Anyway, EcoJoe has missed out on some roadside attractions, but I think it's best that he's not with us on this trip. I already have one supernatural force trying to keep us from this trailer, and that's more than enough.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
An update for the day
I have to say that (so far) the dealership and manufacturer have been quite helpful. The dealer got us in touch with a factory rep, who arranged a three-way call with Steve and the manufacturer of the hydraulic system.
They are sending out their technical service guy to look at it. The bad news (there's always bad news) is that as of about 1:30 this afternoon, he was still six hours away. But at least we'll get it looked at. Then they'll make it right.
Based on our description of what happened, they seem to think that the repair will be fairly simple. I don't understand all the technicalities of it, but we'll see. And Steve will stay on top of things to make sure they don't take any short-cuts.
We're definitely here for at least another few days. The manufacturer has agreed to pay for our hotel for now, so that's a slight burden off of us.
We have checked in and out of our current hotel about a dozen times now. I'm not sure if they really like us or really hate us!
The campground that Homer is parked at is nice and the woman working there today is very sweet.
So I guess that's it for now. I'll update more when we have a better idea of what it'll take to fix Homer.
They are sending out their technical service guy to look at it. The bad news (there's always bad news) is that as of about 1:30 this afternoon, he was still six hours away. But at least we'll get it looked at. Then they'll make it right.
Based on our description of what happened, they seem to think that the repair will be fairly simple. I don't understand all the technicalities of it, but we'll see. And Steve will stay on top of things to make sure they don't take any short-cuts.
We're definitely here for at least another few days. The manufacturer has agreed to pay for our hotel for now, so that's a slight burden off of us.
We have checked in and out of our current hotel about a dozen times now. I'm not sure if they really like us or really hate us!
The campground that Homer is parked at is nice and the woman working there today is very sweet.
So I guess that's it for now. I'll update more when we have a better idea of what it'll take to fix Homer.
It's bad. Real bad.
As promised, the owner of the dealership in Ohio got a mobile repair person out to the campground this morning.
Steve was hopeful it would be a quick fix. Maybe just a connector or something. I was much less optimistic, which is quite the role reversal for us.
Turns out I was right.
The mobile guy said the rupture is up high. To repair it properly will involve taking off and replacing the entire underbelly. His company can probably do it on-sight, but we would have to wait a couple days to get all the trucks here, and I imagine we'd need permission from the RV park.
Camping World is an authorized repair center, but to even transport it to Camping World, we would have to access the manual overdrive (Steve was unsuccessful last night), and apparently that means taking the bed apart.
All in all, the repairs will take between five days and a month. And it's possible that we will have to pay upfront and hope to get reimbursed by Forest River, the manufacturer.
The dealership owner has a call in to the Forest River rep to try to help us out, but it's lunchtime in Indiana, so it will probably be another half hour before we're even able to talk to someone.
We can't stay in the trailer right now because there's not room to move in there with the slide-outs in. (As mentioned, they're out a bit--not enough to make it livable, but enough that it can't be driven. Plus the jacks are frozen.) And even if we could stay in it tonight or tomorrow, we obviously won't be able to once they start working on it.
So that means even more nights in a hotel. The money we saved by buying from this dealer is slowly being lost on hotels and meals while we're here.
I toyed with the idea of flying back home with the kids, but I'm not sure what good that would do, other than cost us three airfares. Steve would still need somewhere to stay, and I'd be back to trying to keep the house presentable in case someone wants to buy it.
So, we're trapped. For how long, I don't know. I'm secretly hoping the manufacturer will just buy back the trailer, we can go home, and forget this whole thing.
Steve was hopeful it would be a quick fix. Maybe just a connector or something. I was much less optimistic, which is quite the role reversal for us.
Turns out I was right.
The mobile guy said the rupture is up high. To repair it properly will involve taking off and replacing the entire underbelly. His company can probably do it on-sight, but we would have to wait a couple days to get all the trucks here, and I imagine we'd need permission from the RV park.
Camping World is an authorized repair center, but to even transport it to Camping World, we would have to access the manual overdrive (Steve was unsuccessful last night), and apparently that means taking the bed apart.
All in all, the repairs will take between five days and a month. And it's possible that we will have to pay upfront and hope to get reimbursed by Forest River, the manufacturer.
The dealership owner has a call in to the Forest River rep to try to help us out, but it's lunchtime in Indiana, so it will probably be another half hour before we're even able to talk to someone.
We can't stay in the trailer right now because there's not room to move in there with the slide-outs in. (As mentioned, they're out a bit--not enough to make it livable, but enough that it can't be driven. Plus the jacks are frozen.) And even if we could stay in it tonight or tomorrow, we obviously won't be able to once they start working on it.
So that means even more nights in a hotel. The money we saved by buying from this dealer is slowly being lost on hotels and meals while we're here.
I toyed with the idea of flying back home with the kids, but I'm not sure what good that would do, other than cost us three airfares. Steve would still need somewhere to stay, and I'd be back to trying to keep the house presentable in case someone wants to buy it.
So, we're trapped. For how long, I don't know. I'm secretly hoping the manufacturer will just buy back the trailer, we can go home, and forget this whole thing.
Monday, August 30, 2010
From bad to worse to surprisingly good to horrid
My whole life, I've generally had pretty good luck. Clearly it's all catching up to me now.
To recap from my last update, we needed a certain type of connector plate put on the trailer so it would hook up to the hitch on our truck. The problem was that the closest part was at least 1,500 miles away.
We resigned ourselves to staying here at least another night while we waited for the part. Just before Steve left Camping World to come pick us up for lunch he got a call from our loan officer at Bank of America.
As you'll recall, we signed our papers at a Bank of America branch in Phoenix on August 21 and had them overnighted back to the loan guy in Georgia. The dealership was supposed to overnight their papers that Monday.
Only they didn't. They didn't send them until Friday, so they didn't arrive until today.
Our loan was only guaranteed through the 26th, which means it didn't fund. The dealership had sent us the trailer even though they hadn't gotten paid (other than our deposit), and we now needed to reapply for the loan.
I frantically filled out the online application again, and we called the loan guy to let him know it was submitted. He made it sound like it was just a technicality, but with the way things have been going, we had to worry.
We figured if nothing else, we could go register Homer (we didn't need him there--just his paperwork), and we could leave in the morning as soon as he was ready.
Then Camping World called to say that they had located a compatible part and the trailer would be ready today. Whoa! Something unexpectedly good!
We wouldn't have time to make the four-hour round-trip drive to register the trailer and be back to pick it up by close of business, so we decided we'd go park it in a campground overnight, then take care of the administrative stuff and do a shortish drive tomorrow.
We stopped at Walmart to pick up some things we needed for the trailer. I also got a few of those ready-made shelf-stable tuna salad lunch kits just in case we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere when lunch hit on one of the legs of our trip. (This is called foreshadowing.)
While we were in Walmart, the loan guy called to say that our loan had been re-approved. He said it wasn't as seamless as he had hoped, but he went to bat for us since the delay hadn't been our fault.
Even better, we didn't have to go register Homer. The trailer has a temporary Ohio registration. When the dealer gets the title, they'll send it to Bank of America, who will take care of filing the necessary paperwork with Texas. (As it turns out, BofA already has the title, as that's what the dealership was waiting on--remember how they needed our Texas licenses?--and thus why they didn't send the paperwork back until Friday. Even though they didn't need to do that. And probably shouldn't have.)
Anyway, all we needed to do was get a VIN Inspection certificate and an official dry weight and send those to BofA.
Things were really looking up!
It turned out that Camping World could do the VIN Inspection, and there was a commercial scale about a mile away.
We were set! We went back to Camping World, and they finished with the trailer just in time for...
...the torrential downpour.
Little would we know that would not be the worst thing to happen.
After about an hour and a half, the rain had subsided enough that Steve and the Camping World people could make the final little adjustments and get us hitched up.
Next stop was the scale. It was getting late, but we wanted to get everything out of the way tonight so we could leave early in the morning.
That was an ordeal in itself, which I might save for another blog post. It involved me being very scared and worried that Steve would accidentally crush me between the truck and the trailer. But we survived and got our weight certificate.
Then it was off to the campground a few miles away.
We pulled in. I got out and registered. They gave us a nice pull-through spot. Steve got Homer unhitched. Then he hit the auto-level button. Then we heard a pop. Then Steve looked under the trailer and saw the busted hydraulic line.
He freaked out a little. I stayed calm because there was nothing I could do and I was relying on him to make it better.
In a move he would later regret, he decided to see if the slide-outs were on the same line. He pushed the button to extend them, and they did move a few inches before they stopped. And wouldn't go back in.
So we were stuck there, with no way to move the trailer (can't move it with the slide-outs out, plus the jacks were frozen). Steve called the service that's supposed to help with this kind of thing, but we needed an account number from the dealer. We didn't have an account number from the dealer, and the dealership had closed hours ago.
There was a manual override, but Steve needed a drill, which we also didn't have.
While Steve desperately tried to figure out what to do, I gave the kids our emergency tuna. Anna dropped a tuna-salad-laden cracker on my foot. It was a really crappy dinner.
We decided the only course of action was for Steve to take us back to the hotel, go buy a drill, get the slide-outs in, and take it to Camping World in the morning to hopefully be fixed.
When we got back to the hotel, Steve noticed he had a business card for the owner of the dealership in Ohio, and it had the guy's cell phone number. Steve called, apologized for calling so late, and explained the situation. The owner was very apologetic and said he'd call the manufacturer first thing in the morning to make sure they'd make it right.
So...we're here for at least another day. Our trailer is busted. We're frustrated. The kids are worn out. It's really frickin humid. And we're not sure if this is further evidence that we're just really not supposed to do this.
To recap from my last update, we needed a certain type of connector plate put on the trailer so it would hook up to the hitch on our truck. The problem was that the closest part was at least 1,500 miles away.
We resigned ourselves to staying here at least another night while we waited for the part. Just before Steve left Camping World to come pick us up for lunch he got a call from our loan officer at Bank of America.
As you'll recall, we signed our papers at a Bank of America branch in Phoenix on August 21 and had them overnighted back to the loan guy in Georgia. The dealership was supposed to overnight their papers that Monday.
Only they didn't. They didn't send them until Friday, so they didn't arrive until today.
Our loan was only guaranteed through the 26th, which means it didn't fund. The dealership had sent us the trailer even though they hadn't gotten paid (other than our deposit), and we now needed to reapply for the loan.
I frantically filled out the online application again, and we called the loan guy to let him know it was submitted. He made it sound like it was just a technicality, but with the way things have been going, we had to worry.
We figured if nothing else, we could go register Homer (we didn't need him there--just his paperwork), and we could leave in the morning as soon as he was ready.
Then Camping World called to say that they had located a compatible part and the trailer would be ready today. Whoa! Something unexpectedly good!
We wouldn't have time to make the four-hour round-trip drive to register the trailer and be back to pick it up by close of business, so we decided we'd go park it in a campground overnight, then take care of the administrative stuff and do a shortish drive tomorrow.
We stopped at Walmart to pick up some things we needed for the trailer. I also got a few of those ready-made shelf-stable tuna salad lunch kits just in case we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere when lunch hit on one of the legs of our trip. (This is called foreshadowing.)
While we were in Walmart, the loan guy called to say that our loan had been re-approved. He said it wasn't as seamless as he had hoped, but he went to bat for us since the delay hadn't been our fault.
Even better, we didn't have to go register Homer. The trailer has a temporary Ohio registration. When the dealer gets the title, they'll send it to Bank of America, who will take care of filing the necessary paperwork with Texas. (As it turns out, BofA already has the title, as that's what the dealership was waiting on--remember how they needed our Texas licenses?--and thus why they didn't send the paperwork back until Friday. Even though they didn't need to do that. And probably shouldn't have.)
Anyway, all we needed to do was get a VIN Inspection certificate and an official dry weight and send those to BofA.
Things were really looking up!
It turned out that Camping World could do the VIN Inspection, and there was a commercial scale about a mile away.
We were set! We went back to Camping World, and they finished with the trailer just in time for...
...the torrential downpour.
Little would we know that would not be the worst thing to happen.
After about an hour and a half, the rain had subsided enough that Steve and the Camping World people could make the final little adjustments and get us hitched up.
Next stop was the scale. It was getting late, but we wanted to get everything out of the way tonight so we could leave early in the morning.
That was an ordeal in itself, which I might save for another blog post. It involved me being very scared and worried that Steve would accidentally crush me between the truck and the trailer. But we survived and got our weight certificate.
Then it was off to the campground a few miles away.
We pulled in. I got out and registered. They gave us a nice pull-through spot. Steve got Homer unhitched. Then he hit the auto-level button. Then we heard a pop. Then Steve looked under the trailer and saw the busted hydraulic line.
He freaked out a little. I stayed calm because there was nothing I could do and I was relying on him to make it better.
In a move he would later regret, he decided to see if the slide-outs were on the same line. He pushed the button to extend them, and they did move a few inches before they stopped. And wouldn't go back in.
So we were stuck there, with no way to move the trailer (can't move it with the slide-outs out, plus the jacks were frozen). Steve called the service that's supposed to help with this kind of thing, but we needed an account number from the dealer. We didn't have an account number from the dealer, and the dealership had closed hours ago.
There was a manual override, but Steve needed a drill, which we also didn't have.
While Steve desperately tried to figure out what to do, I gave the kids our emergency tuna. Anna dropped a tuna-salad-laden cracker on my foot. It was a really crappy dinner.
We decided the only course of action was for Steve to take us back to the hotel, go buy a drill, get the slide-outs in, and take it to Camping World in the morning to hopefully be fixed.
When we got back to the hotel, Steve noticed he had a business card for the owner of the dealership in Ohio, and it had the guy's cell phone number. Steve called, apologized for calling so late, and explained the situation. The owner was very apologetic and said he'd call the manufacturer first thing in the morning to make sure they'd make it right.
So...we're here for at least another day. Our trailer is busted. We're frustrated. The kids are worn out. It's really frickin humid. And we're not sure if this is further evidence that we're just really not supposed to do this.
We're never leaving Texas
Or at least that's how it feels.
Steve left around 7:30 this morning to meet the guy who was delivering the fifth wheel. The kids and I stayed behind at the hotel to have a leisurely breakfast and pack up. The people at Camping World still needed to put some kind of plate on the trailer to make it compatible with our hitch, so we figured that Steve would come back to pick us up while they were doing that.
Then the plan was to drive up to the city two hours away where we need to register it, and then either leave this afternoon or first thing in the morning.
It looked like things were going well. Steve said there were two gouges in the kitchen cupboards, but other than that (and a few other little things we'd have to take care of), it looked great. He said the back bedroom is probably even better than we imagined. Awesome!
The plate installation was only going to take an hour...until they realized they had the wrong part. They were going to call around to the other stores in the area to see if there are any nearby. If not, they'd have the part overnighted, but obviously that pushes everything back a day.
They were supposed to let us know what the deal was an hour ago. Still no word.
Oh, and while they were moving the trailer so they could work on it, the forklift broke the electrical cable that connects the trailer to the truck. Awesome. (They are replacing it.)
Meanwhile, I had to call our vet's office, where our poor dog is being boarded. We already felt bad enough leaving her for so long, and now it's going to be even longer. I was pretty sure I had told them we'd pick her up on Sept 1, but obviously that's not happening. Because of the weekend and Labor Day, the soonest we'll get to her is the 7th. She's going to hate us.
Steve left around 7:30 this morning to meet the guy who was delivering the fifth wheel. The kids and I stayed behind at the hotel to have a leisurely breakfast and pack up. The people at Camping World still needed to put some kind of plate on the trailer to make it compatible with our hitch, so we figured that Steve would come back to pick us up while they were doing that.
Then the plan was to drive up to the city two hours away where we need to register it, and then either leave this afternoon or first thing in the morning.
It looked like things were going well. Steve said there were two gouges in the kitchen cupboards, but other than that (and a few other little things we'd have to take care of), it looked great. He said the back bedroom is probably even better than we imagined. Awesome!
The plate installation was only going to take an hour...until they realized they had the wrong part. They were going to call around to the other stores in the area to see if there are any nearby. If not, they'd have the part overnighted, but obviously that pushes everything back a day.
They were supposed to let us know what the deal was an hour ago. Still no word.
Oh, and while they were moving the trailer so they could work on it, the forklift broke the electrical cable that connects the trailer to the truck. Awesome. (They are replacing it.)
Meanwhile, I had to call our vet's office, where our poor dog is being boarded. We already felt bad enough leaving her for so long, and now it's going to be even longer. I was pretty sure I had told them we'd pick her up on Sept 1, but obviously that's not happening. Because of the weekend and Labor Day, the soonest we'll get to her is the 7th. She's going to hate us.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Whew!
We are now, officially, finally, Texas residents.
Steve's birth certificate arrived at 8 a.m. We happened to stroll into the lobby at the same time the FedEx guy (same as the day before) was walking in. I'm sure he thought we were stalking him.
We had breakfast and got on the road to our destination, two hours away.
Steve and Elias went to the bank (weird places here don't run on credit cards) while I went to start registering the Pilot. I was done in five minutes but had to wait another five until the boys came back with the money.
Then we were off to the drivers license office a mile or so away. I tried to remain hopeful but my spirit was broken.
The same two ladies were working and they remembered us. The one had been rather curt the last time but was quite friendly today. She seemed as relieved as we were that we finally had everything we needed. (We did not elaborate about what it took to finally get to that point, but she probably would have enjoyed the story.)
Two vision tests, two thumb-print recordings (well, four, since we each have two thumbs), and a couple signatures, and we had our temporary Texas licenses in hand.
We then went to the office where our insurance broker works. We needed to turn in some paperwork, but we also wanted to use their fax to get a copy of Steve's license to the RV dealer in Ohio so they could finalize everything.
After that, we went to lunch to celebrate our new residency. (More on that later--I'm planning a post to talk about the food we've had on this trip.)
I'm currently in the middle of the third book in the Twilight series. (Bear with me here--it pertains.) Right now Bella is contemplating becoming a vampire but is just slightly apprehensive about leaving her human-ness behind.
That's sort of how I felt about becoming a Texan. I even had a whole pithy post typed out in my head, but then all these complications arose and quashed my creativity.
Not that I'm comparing Texans to vampires. Or Californians to humans for that matter.
Steve and I both thought we'd feel some sadness, or at least some wistfulness, about no longer being Californians. In reality, we're so relieved to have most of this ordeal behind us that we just don't care either way.
Anyway, the trailer is scheduled to be delivered on Monday morning, so we still have a few more days here. There are still opportunities for things to go wrong, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. As optimistic as a vampire can be.
Steve's birth certificate arrived at 8 a.m. We happened to stroll into the lobby at the same time the FedEx guy (same as the day before) was walking in. I'm sure he thought we were stalking him.
We had breakfast and got on the road to our destination, two hours away.
Steve and Elias went to the bank (weird places here don't run on credit cards) while I went to start registering the Pilot. I was done in five minutes but had to wait another five until the boys came back with the money.
Then we were off to the drivers license office a mile or so away. I tried to remain hopeful but my spirit was broken.
The same two ladies were working and they remembered us. The one had been rather curt the last time but was quite friendly today. She seemed as relieved as we were that we finally had everything we needed. (We did not elaborate about what it took to finally get to that point, but she probably would have enjoyed the story.)
Two vision tests, two thumb-print recordings (well, four, since we each have two thumbs), and a couple signatures, and we had our temporary Texas licenses in hand.
We then went to the office where our insurance broker works. We needed to turn in some paperwork, but we also wanted to use their fax to get a copy of Steve's license to the RV dealer in Ohio so they could finalize everything.
After that, we went to lunch to celebrate our new residency. (More on that later--I'm planning a post to talk about the food we've had on this trip.)
I'm currently in the middle of the third book in the Twilight series. (Bear with me here--it pertains.) Right now Bella is contemplating becoming a vampire but is just slightly apprehensive about leaving her human-ness behind.
That's sort of how I felt about becoming a Texan. I even had a whole pithy post typed out in my head, but then all these complications arose and quashed my creativity.
Not that I'm comparing Texans to vampires. Or Californians to humans for that matter.
Steve and I both thought we'd feel some sadness, or at least some wistfulness, about no longer being Californians. In reality, we're so relieved to have most of this ordeal behind us that we just don't care either way.
Anyway, the trailer is scheduled to be delivered on Monday morning, so we still have a few more days here. There are still opportunities for things to go wrong, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. As optimistic as a vampire can be.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
And now for something completely different...
My past several posts have sort of been downers because, well, that's the way things are right now. For the kids' sake we've been trying to remain calm (and doing a pretty bad job), and we've been trying to keep things fun.
We went to a mall yesterday that had some diversions: carousel, "train," etc. The coolest thing, though, was a shallow pool of water with these big plastic bubbles that look like hamster balls floating on it. All day long Elias begged to go in the hamster balls, and how could we say no? (Steve and I wanted to go, too, but sadly missed the 120-lb cutoff.)
Here's Elias running around in there. Well, crawling in there. He did figure out how to stand and run for a few seconds, but I had put my camera away by that point.
We went to a mall yesterday that had some diversions: carousel, "train," etc. The coolest thing, though, was a shallow pool of water with these big plastic bubbles that look like hamster balls floating on it. All day long Elias begged to go in the hamster balls, and how could we say no? (Steve and I wanted to go, too, but sadly missed the 120-lb cutoff.)
Here's Elias running around in there. Well, crawling in there. He did figure out how to stand and run for a few seconds, but I had put my camera away by that point.
Hopefully THIS will take care of it...
When we last left off, we were back at the hotel near Houston, agonizing over the fact that we still didn't have Steve's birth certificate and didn't know when or if we ever would.
We had sent a text message to Lori, but we got impatient. We also felt bad imposing on Lori yet again, and we knew she'd feel awful about what happened even though it really wasn't her fault.
Steve called his engineer and friend Natalie, who lives an hour from us but is always willing to help out. We decided to get her on the way to our house, and hoped that our neighbor had replaced our hidden key from the other day when she faxed us the registration for the Pilot.
With Natalie en route, we decided to go to lunch since we had nothing else to do. Just before we got to the restaurant, Lori called and we filled her in. She felt terrible and kept apologizing. I kept trying to tell her not to feel bad; that she had already gone above and beyond. We told her that we didn't want to inconvenience her any more and that Natalie was on her way, but she insisted on going over to the house to meet her.
As we waited for them to arrive, I decided to drown my sorrows in a Cinnabon. While I was in line, Steve got a call from Natalie. They were both at the house, and they confirmed that they had a certified copy of Steve's birth certificate in hand. My Cinnabon indulgence turned celebratory... tempered with caution, of course, because we're not out of the woods yet.
Lori took it to FedEx, so it should, again, be here by 8 a.m. tomorrow.
We were so grateful to Lori, and felt so bad that she felt bad, that we decided to send her flowers. I called the florist near our houses, the one we always use, only to be told that the shop is temporarily closed for a few weeks because the owner is in the hospital. Strike 12.
We have decided to buy Lori a nice bottle of wine--or perhaps a case of it--as soon as we get home. Natalie is getting all the Starbucks she can drink for a month.
We had sent a text message to Lori, but we got impatient. We also felt bad imposing on Lori yet again, and we knew she'd feel awful about what happened even though it really wasn't her fault.
Steve called his engineer and friend Natalie, who lives an hour from us but is always willing to help out. We decided to get her on the way to our house, and hoped that our neighbor had replaced our hidden key from the other day when she faxed us the registration for the Pilot.
With Natalie en route, we decided to go to lunch since we had nothing else to do. Just before we got to the restaurant, Lori called and we filled her in. She felt terrible and kept apologizing. I kept trying to tell her not to feel bad; that she had already gone above and beyond. We told her that we didn't want to inconvenience her any more and that Natalie was on her way, but she insisted on going over to the house to meet her.
As we waited for them to arrive, I decided to drown my sorrows in a Cinnabon. While I was in line, Steve got a call from Natalie. They were both at the house, and they confirmed that they had a certified copy of Steve's birth certificate in hand. My Cinnabon indulgence turned celebratory... tempered with caution, of course, because we're not out of the woods yet.
Lori took it to FedEx, so it should, again, be here by 8 a.m. tomorrow.
We were so grateful to Lori, and felt so bad that she felt bad, that we decided to send her flowers. I called the florist near our houses, the one we always use, only to be told that the shop is temporarily closed for a few weeks because the owner is in the hospital. Strike 12.
We have decided to buy Lori a nice bottle of wine--or perhaps a case of it--as soon as we get home. Natalie is getting all the Starbucks she can drink for a month.
Back to Square One
As we were eating breakfast in the hotel lobby this morning, I saw a FedEx truck pull up to the hotel next door. It sat there for a while so logically I started to panic that they were trying to deliver our envelope to the wrong place. Just as Steve got up to check, the truck pulled up to our hotel, and out popped the driver with our envelope.
I ripped it open, and there it was: my birth certificate, Steve's (I turned it over to confirm a stamp on the back), the Pilot's registration and title.
Yay!
We finished filling out the paperwork for our licenses, got the kids in the car, and started our two-hour drive to the place where we need to take care of everything.
Luckily we were only five miles into the trip when I noticed...
Steve said, "So you're sure those documents are correct?"
"Yep!" I pulled them out to look again. I read our title. I read our registration. I read the notes my mom had scribbled on the back of my official birth certificate at some point.
I glanced at Steve's birth certificate and thought, "Hmmm. That's weird. Why would Steve's signature be on his own birth certificate?" Then I glanced at the signature next to it and realized...oh, shit.
It was not Steve's birth certificate. It was his marriage certificate from his first marriage.
We're now waiting for dawn to break in California so we can call Lori to see if she can go back and find Steve's birth certificate.
Again, even if she finds it, there's no guarantee that it's an official copy. So I'm also researching flights again. If Steve has to fly back, we'll have to wait until Monday to take care of everything because there's really no way he can fly back to California, get a certified copy, and get back here during normal business hours tomorrow.
As I have mentioned before, I do believe in signs and omens. I'm trying to convince myself that the universe isn't trying to keep us from moving to Texas, but it's getting harder and harder to deny it.
I ripped it open, and there it was: my birth certificate, Steve's (I turned it over to confirm a stamp on the back), the Pilot's registration and title.
Yay!
We finished filling out the paperwork for our licenses, got the kids in the car, and started our two-hour drive to the place where we need to take care of everything.
Luckily we were only five miles into the trip when I noticed...
Steve said, "So you're sure those documents are correct?"
"Yep!" I pulled them out to look again. I read our title. I read our registration. I read the notes my mom had scribbled on the back of my official birth certificate at some point.
I glanced at Steve's birth certificate and thought, "Hmmm. That's weird. Why would Steve's signature be on his own birth certificate?" Then I glanced at the signature next to it and realized...oh, shit.
It was not Steve's birth certificate. It was his marriage certificate from his first marriage.
We're now waiting for dawn to break in California so we can call Lori to see if she can go back and find Steve's birth certificate.
Again, even if she finds it, there's no guarantee that it's an official copy. So I'm also researching flights again. If Steve has to fly back, we'll have to wait until Monday to take care of everything because there's really no way he can fly back to California, get a certified copy, and get back here during normal business hours tomorrow.
As I have mentioned before, I do believe in signs and omens. I'm trying to convince myself that the universe isn't trying to keep us from moving to Texas, but it's getting harder and harder to deny it.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Another Crisis...
So last night as I lay in bed, unable to sleep and waiting for my adrenaline rush to dissipate, I had a horrible thought: What if Lori (our real estate agent) got Elias's birth certificate instead of Steve's?
I wasn't on the phone with Lori when she found the certificates, but I heard Steve's end, and it almost seemed like she found his too quickly. See, newer certificates are big and colorful and look nice and official. Older ones are white and boring, and usually folded up. What if she saw an official-looking colorful thing that said "Certificate of Live Birth" (or whatever) on it, grabbed it, and assumed all was well?
I tried convincing myself that I was worrying over nothing, but it kept nagging at me.
As soon as I woke up (after finally falling asleep), I asked Steve about it. We were both pretty sure that the kids' birth certificates were in my lock-box, not his, but I still couldn't get the possibility out of my mind. We decided to call Lori, but as it was only 4 a.m. in California, we had to wait. And wait. And wait.
Finally at 8 Pacific we gave her a call and left a message. When she called back, I hoped she'd laugh off our concerns. Instead she confirmed that she had, indeed, grabbed Elias's birth certificate.
She could go back to our house, of course, but that still left the question of whether Steve's certificate was official or not.
In the meantime, we had taken the Canyonero to have our hitch installed (so we can pull the fifth wheel), and we quickly surmised that it would be better to rent a car than to sit in a waiting room with the kids for five hours. That was a fiasco in itself, but we did eventually wind up at a mall--and a relatively nice one at that.
Just after we finished lunch, Lori called to let us know she had Steve's birth certificate. There was much rejoicing.
Then I asked Steve if it was certified. He got a deer-in-the-headlights look and called Lori back.
Indeed, it is a certified copy.
She got everything to FedEx, and it should arrive by 8 a.m. tomorrow. I won't breathe easily until it is in our hands, but hopefully we're a step closer. Actually, I won't breathe easy until our new licenses and registrations are in our hands. I'm not sure what else can go wrong, but hopefully we've used up our quota.
I wasn't on the phone with Lori when she found the certificates, but I heard Steve's end, and it almost seemed like she found his too quickly. See, newer certificates are big and colorful and look nice and official. Older ones are white and boring, and usually folded up. What if she saw an official-looking colorful thing that said "Certificate of Live Birth" (or whatever) on it, grabbed it, and assumed all was well?
I tried convincing myself that I was worrying over nothing, but it kept nagging at me.
As soon as I woke up (after finally falling asleep), I asked Steve about it. We were both pretty sure that the kids' birth certificates were in my lock-box, not his, but I still couldn't get the possibility out of my mind. We decided to call Lori, but as it was only 4 a.m. in California, we had to wait. And wait. And wait.
Finally at 8 Pacific we gave her a call and left a message. When she called back, I hoped she'd laugh off our concerns. Instead she confirmed that she had, indeed, grabbed Elias's birth certificate.
She could go back to our house, of course, but that still left the question of whether Steve's certificate was official or not.
In the meantime, we had taken the Canyonero to have our hitch installed (so we can pull the fifth wheel), and we quickly surmised that it would be better to rent a car than to sit in a waiting room with the kids for five hours. That was a fiasco in itself, but we did eventually wind up at a mall--and a relatively nice one at that.
Just after we finished lunch, Lori called to let us know she had Steve's birth certificate. There was much rejoicing.
Then I asked Steve if it was certified. He got a deer-in-the-headlights look and called Lori back.
Indeed, it is a certified copy.
She got everything to FedEx, and it should arrive by 8 a.m. tomorrow. I won't breathe easily until it is in our hands, but hopefully we're a step closer. Actually, I won't breathe easy until our new licenses and registrations are in our hands. I'm not sure what else can go wrong, but hopefully we've used up our quota.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
From bad to worse
When I undertake something, I usually research it to death. I'm a bit obsessive-compulsive, so by the time I'm ready to do something, I usually know the topic inside and out.
For some reason, this trip was almost like an afterthought. I researched things, of course, but not to an extreme. We got stuff in order (so we thought), but I failed to read through every Texas statute available.
Perhaps I should have.
When we last left off, I was panicking over not having the registration for the Pilot. Clearly this was our fault--we thought we had grabbed it, but got the wrong one.
Things started to look up, though.
We got ahold of our neighbor, who faxed us a beautifully legible copy of the registration. I filled out the paperwork, ready to submit first thing in the morning.
Then I looked at the information the driver's license people gave us. The required documentation:
1. Texas registration on ALL vehicles.
Check--well, soon.
2. Insurance on all vehicles.
Check.
3. Out-of-state driver's license.
Check.
4. Social Security Card (actual card)
Check.
5. Original birth certificate.
WHAAAAAAA????????
The packet of information I got from our mail service about establishing residency had said nothing about birth certificates.
I checked the official Texas website, though (a week too late), and sure enough: They need a birth certificate or passport to prove we're citizens. Apparently a California driver's license and Social Security card aren't enough.
Cue further panic.
Our birth certificates reside in two lock boxes. The keys to those lock boxes sometimes reside in a certain part of the garage, and sometimes don't, depending on where we've left them.
We tried to get ahold of our real estate agent again.
Then Steve realized that his birth certificate might not be an official copy.
More panic ensued.
We thought of our options.
Abandon the whole thing. Ditch the trailer, forfeit our $6,000 deposit, go back home, sell the truck, refinance the house.
Have me get a driver's license (since I know my birth certificate is official)--presuming our agent could get to it--and I drive the trailer home.
Have Steve fly out first thing in the morning, go to the Hall of Records to get a copy of his birth certificate, then fly back that night.
That actually turned into our most realistic option. We had my mom start researching flights. It would cost nearly $1,000, we would have to leave our hotel two hours outside Texas to get to Houston tonight, I would be responsible for driving the truck and getting the hitch installed... it was unappealing but doable.
Still more panic ensued.
Finally our agent got back to us. (In reality, it was only like half an hour, but it felt like forever.)
She got to our house and Steve walked her through finding the stuff. The keys were in their proper places. Our birth certificates were on top. Steve's is certified. For good measure, we're having her send our title and registration, too, just in case.
She'll overnight everything tomorrow, and we should have it by 8 a.m. Thursday. We are eternally, eternally grateful to her.
In the meantime, our plans have now been pushed back several days. The earliest we'll get the trailer now is Saturday, and the earliest we'll be able to leave is Monday, after we have registered it. So we're looking at another week in the greater Texas area.
On a side note, the place we went for dinner was not Crusty McNutter's, but Buster McNutty's. (I'm referring to it as Cluster McFucky's because it seems more apropos.) The good news is that kids eat free. The bad news is that the food was lousy and a guy dressed as SpongeBob and some kind of rodent (a chipmunk, maybe) scared Anna, and both kids wound up having meltdowns.
It's just sorta been that kind of day.
For some reason, this trip was almost like an afterthought. I researched things, of course, but not to an extreme. We got stuff in order (so we thought), but I failed to read through every Texas statute available.
Perhaps I should have.
When we last left off, I was panicking over not having the registration for the Pilot. Clearly this was our fault--we thought we had grabbed it, but got the wrong one.
Things started to look up, though.
We got ahold of our neighbor, who faxed us a beautifully legible copy of the registration. I filled out the paperwork, ready to submit first thing in the morning.
Then I looked at the information the driver's license people gave us. The required documentation:
1. Texas registration on ALL vehicles.
Check--well, soon.
2. Insurance on all vehicles.
Check.
3. Out-of-state driver's license.
Check.
4. Social Security Card (actual card)
Check.
5. Original birth certificate.
WHAAAAAAA????????
The packet of information I got from our mail service about establishing residency had said nothing about birth certificates.
I checked the official Texas website, though (a week too late), and sure enough: They need a birth certificate or passport to prove we're citizens. Apparently a California driver's license and Social Security card aren't enough.
Cue further panic.
Our birth certificates reside in two lock boxes. The keys to those lock boxes sometimes reside in a certain part of the garage, and sometimes don't, depending on where we've left them.
We tried to get ahold of our real estate agent again.
Then Steve realized that his birth certificate might not be an official copy.
More panic ensued.
We thought of our options.
Abandon the whole thing. Ditch the trailer, forfeit our $6,000 deposit, go back home, sell the truck, refinance the house.
Have me get a driver's license (since I know my birth certificate is official)--presuming our agent could get to it--and I drive the trailer home.
Have Steve fly out first thing in the morning, go to the Hall of Records to get a copy of his birth certificate, then fly back that night.
That actually turned into our most realistic option. We had my mom start researching flights. It would cost nearly $1,000, we would have to leave our hotel two hours outside Texas to get to Houston tonight, I would be responsible for driving the truck and getting the hitch installed... it was unappealing but doable.
Still more panic ensued.
Finally our agent got back to us. (In reality, it was only like half an hour, but it felt like forever.)
She got to our house and Steve walked her through finding the stuff. The keys were in their proper places. Our birth certificates were on top. Steve's is certified. For good measure, we're having her send our title and registration, too, just in case.
She'll overnight everything tomorrow, and we should have it by 8 a.m. Thursday. We are eternally, eternally grateful to her.
In the meantime, our plans have now been pushed back several days. The earliest we'll get the trailer now is Saturday, and the earliest we'll be able to leave is Monday, after we have registered it. So we're looking at another week in the greater Texas area.
On a side note, the place we went for dinner was not Crusty McNutter's, but Buster McNutty's. (I'm referring to it as Cluster McFucky's because it seems more apropos.) The good news is that kids eat free. The bad news is that the food was lousy and a guy dressed as SpongeBob and some kind of rodent (a chipmunk, maybe) scared Anna, and both kids wound up having meltdowns.
It's just sorta been that kind of day.
Errrrrgggggg
So frustrated and angry right now. Not able to type in complete sentences.
Ok, here's how today went:
1. Got a call from the dealer. They can't issue a title until they verify our Texas address with a license, otherwise it'll like like we/they are trying to avoid paying California sales tax.
2. We detour 1.5 hours out of our way to take care of registering our vehicles and getting our license so we can get a copy of our license to the dealer, so they can issue title and get our trailer on the road.
3. We pick up our Mail Service Card, which proves we have an address. Awesome. Yay.
4. We get an inspection for the truck. It passes, of course.
5. We go to register our vehicles.
6. They need a bill of sale for the truck because it's considered "new," even though we bought it three months ago. We don't have a bill of sale with us, because none of the literature we read said anything about it.
7. We call the dealership in California where we bought the truck, and they are able to fax over the bill of sale. $127 later and the truck is registered. Awesome. Yay.
8. We try to register the Pilot, only to realize we stupidly brought the registration for the Odyssey we no longer own, NOT the registration for the Pilot.
9. No problem; we can register it by mail when we get home.
10. We go to the office where we get our licenses.
11. They look at our insurance paperwork and see the trailer on there. We explain that we don't have the trailer yet. They ask if we have signed the paperwork for it. We say sort of. They say they can't issue a license until it's registered in Texas. We explain that we can't get it until we have a Texas license (see #1).
12. I start to cry.
13. Woman says that anything that has a title with our names needs to be registered.
14. We re-explain that there IS no title, nor WILL there be until we have a Texas license.
15. Other woman working there says ok, fine.
16. Crisis averted.
17. Ha!
18. Woman asks if we have any other vehicles.
19. Stupidly, I tell the truth and say that yes, we have another vehicle, but we forgot to bring the registration.
20. She says sorry, but no Texas registration, no license.
21. I have visions of us having to cancel the purchase of the trailer and driving back to California with nothing.
22. I panic and throw up. Ok, not really, but I come close.
23. I calm down a little.
24. We realize that our realtor has access to our house, our car keys, and our car, where the registration is.
25. We go back to the registration office and verify that a legible copy of the registration is sufficient; we don't need the actual title.
26. We call and leave her a message.
27. We don't hear back from her (honestly, we didn't give it long, but we're panicking here).
28. We call our neighbor, who also has access to this stuff.
29. Steve is on the phone with her right now.
30. I am still trying not to panic.
31. I'm trying to lift my spirits, so we're going to place called Crusty McNutter's or something for dinner. If that doesn't do it, I don't know what will.
Ok, here's how today went:
1. Got a call from the dealer. They can't issue a title until they verify our Texas address with a license, otherwise it'll like like we/they are trying to avoid paying California sales tax.
2. We detour 1.5 hours out of our way to take care of registering our vehicles and getting our license so we can get a copy of our license to the dealer, so they can issue title and get our trailer on the road.
3. We pick up our Mail Service Card, which proves we have an address. Awesome. Yay.
4. We get an inspection for the truck. It passes, of course.
5. We go to register our vehicles.
6. They need a bill of sale for the truck because it's considered "new," even though we bought it three months ago. We don't have a bill of sale with us, because none of the literature we read said anything about it.
7. We call the dealership in California where we bought the truck, and they are able to fax over the bill of sale. $127 later and the truck is registered. Awesome. Yay.
8. We try to register the Pilot, only to realize we stupidly brought the registration for the Odyssey we no longer own, NOT the registration for the Pilot.
9. No problem; we can register it by mail when we get home.
10. We go to the office where we get our licenses.
11. They look at our insurance paperwork and see the trailer on there. We explain that we don't have the trailer yet. They ask if we have signed the paperwork for it. We say sort of. They say they can't issue a license until it's registered in Texas. We explain that we can't get it until we have a Texas license (see #1).
12. I start to cry.
13. Woman says that anything that has a title with our names needs to be registered.
14. We re-explain that there IS no title, nor WILL there be until we have a Texas license.
15. Other woman working there says ok, fine.
16. Crisis averted.
17. Ha!
18. Woman asks if we have any other vehicles.
19. Stupidly, I tell the truth and say that yes, we have another vehicle, but we forgot to bring the registration.
20. She says sorry, but no Texas registration, no license.
21. I have visions of us having to cancel the purchase of the trailer and driving back to California with nothing.
22. I panic and throw up. Ok, not really, but I come close.
23. I calm down a little.
24. We realize that our realtor has access to our house, our car keys, and our car, where the registration is.
25. We go back to the registration office and verify that a legible copy of the registration is sufficient; we don't need the actual title.
26. We call and leave her a message.
27. We don't hear back from her (honestly, we didn't give it long, but we're panicking here).
28. We call our neighbor, who also has access to this stuff.
29. Steve is on the phone with her right now.
30. I am still trying not to panic.
31. I'm trying to lift my spirits, so we're going to place called Crusty McNutter's or something for dinner. If that doesn't do it, I don't know what will.
SNAFUs
When we started this trip, we had hopes that everything would go smoothly. The paperwork would all get signed and back to the bank quickly, the dealer would take care of everything quickly on their end, we'd get the trailer quickly, no snags.
We never really believed it would all go that smoothly, though, and we were right.
Much of yesterday afternoon was spent with me on the laptop in the car, begging the MiFi to work just a little better as I frantically tried to access our bank accounts to transfer money over so we could wire our deposit to the dealership. We could have gone into a branch, of course, except that the closest one was seven hours away.
After much strategizing and briefly stealing wifi from a Holiday Inn Express in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, we did get the deposit taken care of.
Then this morning we got a call from the dealer saying that they didn't think they could issue our title in Texas if we had a California address. No problem: We gave them our Texas address, which we obtained a week ago. All's well.
Except that they can't confirm that address without a driver's license showing that address. So now, instead of waiting until we got the trailer to register everything and establish our residency, we have to rush to the little town where our address is to pick up proof, then go have the Canyonero inspected and registered, and get our driver's licenses.
What was supposed to be our shortest travel day is quickly turning into one of the longest, and certainly the most complicated.
We're letting the kids burn off some steam at a McDonals'd play area right now, then we're heading out to become Texans.
In the meantime, enjoy these random photos from our trip that I haven't had a chance to publish until now.
Anna getting ready for the trip
A coffee truck. (Not really, but we could have used one at the time.)
The family with a giant roadrunner made out of trash.
We never really believed it would all go that smoothly, though, and we were right.
Much of yesterday afternoon was spent with me on the laptop in the car, begging the MiFi to work just a little better as I frantically tried to access our bank accounts to transfer money over so we could wire our deposit to the dealership. We could have gone into a branch, of course, except that the closest one was seven hours away.
After much strategizing and briefly stealing wifi from a Holiday Inn Express in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, we did get the deposit taken care of.
Then this morning we got a call from the dealer saying that they didn't think they could issue our title in Texas if we had a California address. No problem: We gave them our Texas address, which we obtained a week ago. All's well.
Except that they can't confirm that address without a driver's license showing that address. So now, instead of waiting until we got the trailer to register everything and establish our residency, we have to rush to the little town where our address is to pick up proof, then go have the Canyonero inspected and registered, and get our driver's licenses.
What was supposed to be our shortest travel day is quickly turning into one of the longest, and certainly the most complicated.
We're letting the kids burn off some steam at a McDonals'd play area right now, then we're heading out to become Texans.
In the meantime, enjoy these random photos from our trip that I haven't had a chance to publish until now.
Anna getting ready for the trip
A coffee truck. (Not really, but we could have used one at the time.)
The family with a giant roadrunner made out of trash.
Monday, July 19, 2010
We're moving to Texas!
...in a way.
A few posts back I wrote about how California requires a Class A license to pull trailers with a Gross Vehicle Weight Rating over 15,500 pounds. We pretty much resigned ourselves to Steve having to get his permit, borrow a fifth wheel and a person with a Class A license, and take what is essentially a Commercial Driver's License test.
Then my mom suggested that we establish residency in Texas.
Now, this wasn't a completely off-the-wall idea (though she is prone to those, too) because our plan all along was to establish residency in Texas once we hit the road in March. The reasons for this are mainly two-fold:
1. No state income tax. I'm not going to lie: That's a big concern, especially coming from tax-crazed California.
2. No homeschooling requirements. Other than actually teaching your kid, you don't need to do anything else. No paperwork to file, no registering with a school district, no testing, no attendance records, etc.
There is a full-time RV organization called Escapees, which is located in Texas. They have a mail service that will receive, sort, and re-send your mail to the destination(s) of your choice. For this, you are given a Texas address that you can also use to obtain a driver's license, register to vote, etc.
We hadn't really considered getting our Texas residency early, mainly because we hadn't really considered that we'd be going through Texas anytime soon. But since we're going to Ohio anyway, it wasn't a bad idea.
Then a snag arose: We have two cars (the Canyonero and a Honda Pilot), but would only have the truck with us. That would leave us in the legally tenuous position of having Texas drivers licenses, but a car registered in California, which could also raise problems with insurance.
We thought about having Steve get his Texas license while I keep my California one, but once we sell the house I wouldn't really have an address other than our mailing address in Texas, which again brought up issues with the Pilot.
Then I did some research, including making a phone call to the agency that handles vehicle registration in the county we'd be "moving" to. A human being answered the phone and immediately transferred me to another human being who answered my questions. She said there's no need to have the car with us to register it. They just waive the inspection requirement until we bring the car into the state. Problem solved!
Or so we thought.
See, we were under the impression that Texas doesn't have special requirements for towing fifth wheels. But upon doing more research, I learned that there is a Class A requirement if the combined GVWR of your truck and trailer is more than 26,001 pounds. The Class A test in Texas seems much easier than in California, but still requires a written test, plus driving and maneuverability exercises.
So Steve checked the GVWR of the Canyonero...and it is 10,500 lbs. The astute mathematicians among you will realize that 10,500 + 15,500 = 26,000 pounds: ONE POUND under the minimum that would trigger the need for a Class A.
I called the Texas equivalent of the DMV and was again greeted by an actual human. He confirmed that as long as we were under 26,001 pounds, we could tow with a regular license.
We still have a few things to look into (like finding out if our health insurance will be valid if we have a Texas address), but at this point it looks like we'll be turning into Texans relatively soon.
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