Well, that was that. Time to go home and let someone come look at this coach who is going to really buy it, I thought as we left. On the way home, not a single word spoken. Shock filled the car. We were exhausted from the overall thrill of seeing such an awesome vintage coach, one that looked just as nice if not better overall than something we'd seen at the RV show built in 2007. At this time we were still very much familiar with our vintage Travco. There was no comparison between the Travco and the Foretrave, none. It was like comparing a Yugo to a Porshe. You can't. It's just not even remotely close to even being on the same planet.
After we got home, we still sat there in silence, our minds racing mixed with every emotion you could conjur up. What the hell did we go do that for? Now we're a mess. Getting through the day was going to be hard to say the least. Especially for me. Carl was still new to the RV lifestyle but I'd dragged to enough RV shows, shown him enough vintage RV brochures (I collect those), talked on and on and on about them till he knew what we just saw was something not to be easily forgotten or disregarded. Still our minds raced.
Sammy called and said he wanted us to have it. Now I know we've all heard that from people trying to sell something, but this was different. It sounded different. He said if we brought him $100 he'd hold it for however long it took to gather the rest of the money. Damn! I thought. Why'd he have to say that. We didn't have $7500. Not even close....but there was a Travco sitting out in the driveway...."are you thinking what I'm thinking..."nah, we couldn't. We've spent far too many hours and energy on the Travco, we just couldn't sell Blanch. Could we?
The following day we called Sammy. Another look over the coach was scheduled for the following day if he hadn't sold it in that time. How could he not? Who in their right mind wouldn't snatch that up in half a second?
We showed up earlier than planned and as we stood there looking at each other then back at the coach our minds had already secretly been made up.
Sammy came out of his house, chipper and pleasant like the day before smiling ear to ear while yet you could still feel a sense of loss of his pride and joy soon on the horizon.
As we looked about the coach again, Sammy told me to "sit!", pointing to the drivers seat. I obeyed and in one swift movement he had the key in the ignition, turned it and started right up immediately. "Your going to drive it now" he said never missing a beat.
We were on our way. We hadn't come to drive it but he insisted and we were soon out of his suburb and not just around the block but on the highway. His area is located in a very hilly area and it'd been several years since I'd driven a coach at highway speeds and on slightly hilly terain.
My immediate notice was that this is a very heavy coach. You can tell when you accelerate from a stop. The amount of pressure on the gas pedal needed to move is noticable. Once on the highway we were at cruising speeds of no more than 55mph for which you couldn't even hear the engine sitting there right inbetween us. Just a slight hum but hardly noticable at all. Wow. It took the hills in his area like we were on flatland. The coach as a whole as quiet. No creaks, rattles, moans or groans in the slightest. No windshield shimmy either. For those of you who know coaches and drive them, I've seen windshield shimmy in all makes, models and years of coach even down to brand new ones. None here.
As we headed back to his house I was still again crusing at just a mere 55mph when Sammy blurted out "DRIVE BOY DRIVE", he continued on with "I didn't just spend all this money on this engine and drive train for you to drive like your afraid of it, DRIVE!". I obeyed. I got up to 65mph this time and he again spoke, "OMG, if you can't drive move over so I can." With that I looked over at Carl sitting in the drivers seat, eyes bulging (he'd never ridden in a motorhome as an adult before now for one his grandparents bought a new Winnebago every other year when he was a child) and poor Sammy was now pacing the floor disgusted at my lack of need for speed. I edged it up to 70mph to simply please Sammy. I have never had a motorhome up to 70mph before. The thought of driving a house at 70mph simply was unacceptable for me. It or any coach is far too heavy and large to drive it like your in a hurry to get...no where but I managed to swallow that thought and continued on.
It was about this time I begin to again realize, I hadn't still heard the engine. It was practically silent under my feet. We were moving at 70mph but couldn't hear the engine. Now, I know your thinking, that's just impossible, same thing I was thinking, but trust me, I'm telling the truth. You could hardly hear anything but a slight hum. The ride too was smooth due to the brand new air bags he'd had installed less than 500 miles ago. The front axle had also been redone as to reduce if not illininate any road vibration.
Upon pulling up to his house, shutting down the engine and taking a walk outside to see if the engine was giving off any serious amounts of heat I noticed there was very little, hardly any heat coming from the front of the coach exterior. When looking at the temp gage one can never be too sure on a vintage coach so the nose is a very useful tool here. The temp gage on the dash read in between cold and the middle line. Again, wow. I guess this is where the brand new cooling system and radiator came in and the newly installed vent fins on the sidewall on either side of the front passenger and drivers side at the engine area. Produced a noticeable difference in temperature. These same vent fins are on the door of the generator compartment.
Oh yeah, that's another thing, the generator, immaculant. Purrs like a kitten and as if it had been cleaned with cleaner or degreaser regularly. I hadn't had a working gen in the last three of my coaches. That, I thought, would be a treat.
So, there we stood. Grinning from ear to ear. Sammy with his arms folded across his chest. "Well boys?"
Without so much as a slight hesitation, Carl walked over and handed him a crisp $100 he'd apparently retrieved from the bank account unbeknownst to me. Looked at my face which was a mixture of Betty Davis in "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane" and Joan Crawford in "Mommie Dearest" and joy (yeah try to picture that). He said to Sammy while handing him the bill "We'll take it".
"YOU'D BETTER!" he said in a stern fatherly or grandfatherly voice. "I didn't want anyone else to have it so I took it off of Craigs List yesturday. I was just going to bug you till you came back."
From this point on we put our brains together brainstorming ways to purchase this coach and we'd promised Sammy we could do it in about a week. Yikes! What were we thinking!
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