Still Marking Time

Various photos and ramblings while trapped at the Cummins Service Center near Denver:

Thankfully we had approval.  We didn't want to be towed ... again.

This fits us, we feel like we are living here

Maybe we can hitch a ride back to RMNP

I don't know why these two look so happy

The prairie dogs could get a little testy.

We found a local dog park only about 2 miles away, so we took Ginger out for some play days.  She made a lot of new buddies.

They apparently sell a lot of large engines, generators and other equipment out of this shop.  There is a different, very large building dedicated to sales and service of this equipment.  There was always a lot of very interesting and very large equipment coming and going.  About twice a week they brought in a gigantic crane to load and unload oversized trucks.

There was a sewer lift station about 15 feet from our parking spot.  On top of the control box was a red light that constantly blinked, apparently wanting someone to take notice and correct some malfunction or other. One night in addition to the blinking, the box began emitting a very loud and annoying wail.  It was hard to ignore. A day or so later a tow truck with a hoist arrived and lifted a pump that had apparently failed, out of the well.  Shortly, another tow truck, this time a flatbed, arrived and delivered a new pump in a crate no larger than a dorm-sized refrigerator.  Both trucks seemed to be quite a bit of overkill for their assigned tasks.  They hauled the old pump away but left the new pump on the ground.  What?  Where's the sewage going to go?  Will there be an overflow?  CRAP! Literally.

A few days later another crew arrived and installed the new pump, lowering it into the well with no more than a portable tripod derrick and a hand wench.  Now that's efficiency.  We learned later that there were actually two pumps in the well, and that they alternated service, and one would act as a backup if the other failed.  They told us the broken pump had been out of service for over two years. 

Eventually I tried to find some pickleball, and found some drop-in play at Bison Ridge Recreation Center.  This was a very nice and large facility only a few miles away.  I packed up my paddle and Dorcas dropped me off while she took Ginger to the dog park.  When I walked into the facility the place was nearly deserted.  Where are all the pickleball players???  There was a lonely lady at the reception desk who informed me that the facility had closed the day before for two weeks of scheduled annual maintenance. CRAP!  I called Dorcas to double back and pick me up.  She had not even gotten to the highway yet. 

Somewhere along the way we picked up a rock chip in the windshield on the Pilot, so we scheduled a repair at a local Safelite shop.  This shop was HUGE!  The shop and warehouse took up a whole city block. There were about a dozen bays and dozens of mobile repair trucks coming and going.  We were in and out in about 1/2 hour.  Perhaps the best service experience I can remember. 

 

Ernest T. Bass would have been in Heaven

I thought rainbows were good luck.  We found no pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.  

Stay tuned as the saga continues.