Yesterday we drove over to the Giant Center in Hershey to pick up our name tags and parking pass for the Hershey RV Show. It was a lesson in frustration.

First, there had been some miscommunication about what the show expected from me, in terms of being a speaker, as well as our vendor booth. Like any big operation, there seems to be a lot of people in charge of something, but apparently they don’t always communicate with one another about anything.

We drove around the massive Giant Center twice before we could find a place to park, and then went to the Registration Tent, only to find nobody there. So then we had to find the show office. The ladies at the ticket booth didn’t know where that was, so they had to make a telephone call or two. Once they pointed us to the show office, we were told to go to the tent. I told them nobody was there, and was told they were there now. So back we went.

Sure enough, the girl was back, and she quickly located our packet. Now the only problem was that it contained the parking pass and my name badge, but not Terry’s. The young lady was very nice, and quickly made Terry a name badge, but she insisted that the mistake had to have come from our end, not theirs. Apparently they are all infallible.

Next, we went down to the main vendor floor to locate our booth space, and ran into our friend Al Hesselbart from the RV Hall of Fame Museum in Elkhart. Al brought a beautiful old 1915 Model T camper to display, and he will be presenting two seminars a day during the show. They have me down for my Highway History And Back Road Mystery seminar every day during the show, and as it turns out, Al will be doing his seminars in the same room. According to the map, it looked to Al and I like the room was upstairs, so we went up and walked all the way around the arena, with no success.

Then Miss Terry called to tell us that she had found the room, and it was down on the main  floor, just a few steps from where we started. The Giant Center is a huge sports complex and hockey arena, so Al and I had to trudge all the way back down the steep steps to the main floor, which is actually the ice rink, which is covered by thin temporary flooring. We could see ice under the edges in a couple of places. Note to self – wear warm socks to the show.

Miss Terry was looking over the schedule, and discovered that my seminars are Wednesday through Saturday from 4 to 5 p.m., and Sunday from 2:30 A.M. to 3:30 P.M.  That’s going to be one heck of a long seminar! I’m good, but I really think I’m going to be hard pressed to find enough to talk about for thirteen hours! I’d think it was just a typo, if I didn’t know that the show folks are infallible.

We unloaded a truckload of Gypsy Journals to pass out to the show crowd, and then we retired to Al’s Newell motorhome for a cold drink and a chat. Then we all three piled into the van and drove to a nearby Fuddruckers for dinner.  I found the restaurant in my GPS, but when we followed the directions it gave us, we ended up at a retirement and rehabilitation home. Al and I agreed that we probably need rehabilitation, but we decided we didn’t need it that day, so we drove another mile or two, found the restaurant, and had a nice dinner.

After we dropped Al back off at his motorhome, we stopped at Sam’s Club in Harrisburg for a couple of items, and then drove to a Verizon company store, where a very nice and helpful young lady named Carin helped us select new phones. I replaced my Blackberry Storm with a Droid Incredible, which I think will be a major improvement. Miss Terry replaced her LG Decoy with a Samsung Alias 2.

Unlike the pushy guy at the mall in Lebanon the day before, who just wanted to sell something, Carin was very patient, explained the pros and cons of several different phones, and then transferred all of our contacts from both phones, and set up our e-mail on the phones. Unfortunately, while Terry’s e-mail works fine, mine didn’t take for some reason, so I have to give Carin a call and have her try to walk me through setting it up.  Once I get a little more familiar with the Droid, I’ll have more to report. 

In yesterday’s blog, I reported that we had opened registration for our Arizona Gypsy Gathering rally in Yuma next March. Dave and Lynn Cross wasted no time being the first to register. A couple of folks e-mailed me to say that they were having a problem with the registration link when they tried to pay, but I think that was a temporary glitch that has been cleared up now. If you run into any problems, you can just log onto www.paypal.com and make payment to editor@gypsyjournal.net, and make a note that the payment is for the rally.

Today we’ll go back to the Giant Center and finish setting up our booth for the show. The show hours are from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m., so we’re going to be very tired by time it’s over.

Thought For The Day – Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.

Click Here To Register For Our Arizona Gypsy Gathering Rally!

There are a lot of reasons I think Al Gore needs a mouth transplant, and his theory of global warming is just one of them. Spend a day or two here in northern Indiana this time of year, and I bet you’ll agree that global warming is an urban legend. Damn, it’s cold!

Our Winnebago Ultimate Advantage has a heat pump, which is new to us. The idea is that down to a certain temperature, we can run the heat pump instead of the gas furnace, and save propane.

At this point, I’m not all that impressed with this option. The heat pump is okay during the day, but it is part of the basement air conditioning system, which is mounted under the motorhome, about where our bed is inside. At night it is very loud, and I’m a light sleeper, so when it’s cold enough to need heat at night, I’ll opt for the gas furnace. I’d rather buy some propane than be cold, or have my sleep interrupted every time the heat pump comes on.

Better yet, I’ll go someplace warm. And you can bet that as soon as we get the new issue of the Gypsy Journal printed and mailed, we’ll be out of here.

Old diesel engines don’t like the cold weather any better than I do. Yesterday Ron Speidel and I tried to help Al Hesselbart, from the RV Hall of Fame Museum, get the diesel engine and diesel generator on his vintage Newell motorhome to start, without any success.

Our MCI bus conversion is parked next to Al’s rig, and I know that with the block heater we had installed last year it will fire right up, but I hope whoever buys the bus has the good sense to head for the sunbelt too. We spent several months living in our first motorhome in northern Michigan during the winter years ago while Miss Terry was being treated for cancer, and we vowed never to do that again. My motto is, if it snows, Nick goes!

Even with all of the filthy talk from the truckers, I still find having a CB radio in an RV to be very handy. Our CB has alerted us to traffic accidents and bad weather ahead, helped us find a way around traffic backups, and the built in weather radio can be a life saver.

Our Winnebago came with a CB antenna pre-installed, and it was pre-wired to hook up a CB radio. So yesterday, after we finally gave up on starting Al’s rig, Ron Speidel installed my Cobra CB radio.

I’ve also been thinking about downloading the free Silverleaf VMSpc software, which allows diesel owners to monitor their engine’s performance and keep up with the maintenance schedule. While the program is a free download, you do need to purchase a cable that plugs into the engine data port under the dash and connects to a laptop computer.

While Ron was prowling around under the dashboard hooking up the CB, he located the data port for me, and marked it so I can plug in the data cable if I decide to go with the Silverleaf. I’d be interested in hearing from any readers who use the Silverleaf, and getting your feedback on it. Some people call it a very handy tool, and others say it’s just another gadget. What do you think?

While I was outside freezing my butt off yesterday, Bad Nick was inside snug and warm,  hard at work postng a new blog titled The Sky Is Still Falling!

Thought For The Day – You are the creator of your own reality show. If you don’t like your part in it, rewrite the script.