The Grand Vision.
When we bought the motorhome, in all of it's orange shag carpet glory, we had grand visions of what it could become. Our expectations of what we could accomplish were colored by our near-new rental RV from a few weeks back and internet "research" (RV porn) on renovations of older campers. Through all of this, we overlooked the obvious elephant in the room. I'm a better wrench than a carpenter, and I'm a shitty wrench.
Still, as the project moves to a "not-finished-but-finally getting there" stage, I think it looks light years better than it did before. Replacing the dark carpet with lighter linoleum and painting the walls made the place seem much larger, even if the paint scheme we ended up reminds me of WWII battleships. We'll brighten it up with throw pillows or something. Removing the 35 year old fabric eliminated much of the musty smell, which I replaced with poisonous paint fumes. You ever paint fiberglass (in this case, the countertop) in an enclosed space? Let's just say it's a groovy trip. Adding new hardware to the drawers and cabinets did a lot to help update things from something you'd see in Red and Kitty Foreman's house. If you don't get the reference, Google it. I'm too doped up on paint fumes to hyperlink.
It isn't anywhere near what I envisioned, but it's kinda exactly what I wanted all along. Make sense? Again, paint fumes. I wanted a RV I could take out and use without worrying about scratching this or depreciating that. It can't lose much more value at this point. It's got kind of a funky vibe that completely works for me.
I took it out for a drive along the Anchorage hillside last night to see just how slow I could make it go. Turns out, pretty slow. You just kind of ease into things when you drive it. The cab still has all of the orange shag rug and brown intact at the moment, so you just let it go and let things happen in their own time. A whiff of the countertops helps. I drove around, identified rattles and creaks, checking various systems periodically, and just generally enjoyed the ride. After a bunch of hours working on it, it was nice just to take it for a little spin.
My vision isn't so grand anymore, but no less awesome. Once the fumes die down a bit and I get some more stuff bolted down, I may take the kids out for an overnight somewhere. That's the whole endgame here. Get out of the house and do something. Go someplace as a family that isn't a mall or restaurant but still involves spending a crap-ton of money. Get away from people, because people really piss me off. Recharge. Maybe have an adventure that involves a 35 year old motorhome and all of its quirks.
I kinda like this new vision.
Still, as the project moves to a "not-finished-but-finally getting there" stage, I think it looks light years better than it did before. Replacing the dark carpet with lighter linoleum and painting the walls made the place seem much larger, even if the paint scheme we ended up reminds me of WWII battleships. We'll brighten it up with throw pillows or something. Removing the 35 year old fabric eliminated much of the musty smell, which I replaced with poisonous paint fumes. You ever paint fiberglass (in this case, the countertop) in an enclosed space? Let's just say it's a groovy trip. Adding new hardware to the drawers and cabinets did a lot to help update things from something you'd see in Red and Kitty Foreman's house. If you don't get the reference, Google it. I'm too doped up on paint fumes to hyperlink.
It isn't anywhere near what I envisioned, but it's kinda exactly what I wanted all along. Make sense? Again, paint fumes. I wanted a RV I could take out and use without worrying about scratching this or depreciating that. It can't lose much more value at this point. It's got kind of a funky vibe that completely works for me.
I took it out for a drive along the Anchorage hillside last night to see just how slow I could make it go. Turns out, pretty slow. You just kind of ease into things when you drive it. The cab still has all of the orange shag rug and brown intact at the moment, so you just let it go and let things happen in their own time. A whiff of the countertops helps. I drove around, identified rattles and creaks, checking various systems periodically, and just generally enjoyed the ride. After a bunch of hours working on it, it was nice just to take it for a little spin.
My vision isn't so grand anymore, but no less awesome. Once the fumes die down a bit and I get some more stuff bolted down, I may take the kids out for an overnight somewhere. That's the whole endgame here. Get out of the house and do something. Go someplace as a family that isn't a mall or restaurant but still involves spending a crap-ton of money. Get away from people, because people really piss me off. Recharge. Maybe have an adventure that involves a 35 year old motorhome and all of its quirks.
I kinda like this new vision.
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