This posting replaces the several mini-postings over the last few months. It seems that every time I went to post a new one, the facts in the prior postings changed. This posting consolidates all of the prior ones into the current picture.
My original plan was to get on the road this year between September 3-10 for OTR X (I lost count), but events intervened. I had several options mapped out, but I was going to make my decision on the day before I left. This was to be my first OTR since 2019 and, for all I know, perhaps my last tenting-trip. But a road trip of some kind is still in the plan. While it will not be another (my fifth) to the Arctic Ocean in Alaska, nor will it be (my third) to the end on the road in Labrador (Northwest River), or both, as has been my dream, it will be somewhere. My last planned long road trip, in 2021, along the Donner Party Trail with Donner (no relation), was cut short after three days by Donner's medical problem, and the trip in 2022 had to "local" because of my need to stay nearby due to Donner's situation. In retrospect, that was a smart move, considering that Donner's final emergency occurred just five months later, just two blocks from home. Had I been on the road with him when that occurred, Donner would have suffered greatly until I could reach veterinary services to let him go. (I still miss that guy deeply.) Back in 2001, on OTR 2, when Leben developed a serious limp, we were 900 miles and five days away from the nearest vet.
Where to start with the updates? Let's start with the Grenadier.
As devoted readers of this blog know, six years ago, I preordered a vehicle that not only had not yet been made, but the company was just getting off the ground, the INEOS Grenadier. In short, after Sir Jim Radcliffe, a British billionaire, in 2016, was unable to persuade Land Rover to not discontinue the classic Defender (the model I have owned since 12/31/1993), or to sell him the tooling rights, he got together with a few of his buddies in a pub in London, eponymously named the Grenadier, where Jim was persuaded to start his own company to make the best off-road vehicle his billions could make, and a lot of other people's money (e.g., mine) could then buy. When his plans were announced, Land Rover sued poor Jim because his vehicle looked much like the classic Defender, but they lost. (Land Rover eventually came out with what they think is a true successor to the classic Defender, but the Grenadier wins that prize in all respects.) As soon as the reservations opened six years ago, I reserved my Grenadier, sight unseen, test drove it in April 2023, and placed my order shortly thereafter. Mine was on its way to Baltimore from France in mid-March, but got delayed after the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore collapsed in late March. Bad timing, but it could have been worse – my Grenadier could have been on the ship that hit the bridge. I finally got a call early in July that mine was ready to be picked up.
There were four reasons I wanted the Grenadier.
First, I knew my faithful Defender would not last forever, even though, with more than 260,000 miles on it, it was just starting its second life with a new engine, transmission, transfer case, rear chassis, and much more. But I did not want to go through the 30-year cycle of breakdowns and repairs I had just finished, not at my age now. But I was not yet reluctant to take it on a new road trip, especially since no one is more expert at handling breakdowns on the road, even 5000 miles from home and 250 to nearest garage (think the Yukon, in 2016), than I. Nevertheless, I suspected that at some point that reluctance would creep in, and I wanted to be prepared.
Second, however reluctant to go-automatic I might be, I knew the day would come when I needed an automatic shift (my first, ever) to accommodate any now-unanticipated changes to my physical condition where an automatic would be needed, or desirable.
Third, I needed a vehicle that I could sleep in the rear in the event of extreme cold (been there, done that) or in an emergency bivouac, where sleeping in a tent was inadvisable, e.g., the several times on my trips where the only passers-by were bears, grizzly, brown or black (take your pick). With its rear seats removed (deleted, as the technical expression goes), the rear of the Grenadier is exactly my new, time-and- gravity-adjusted height (lucky me, huh?), whereas the Defender hardly gives my dogs room to sleep in the rear.
The final reason was leg-room. I once calculated that in the Defender, which had taken me on more than 250,000 miles of roads, 18,000 more than the distance to the moon from Earth, gives me less room than the average amount each of the three astronauts had in Apollo 11, and their flight lasted just eight days, whereas my long road trips (150,000 miles or more) alone exceeded 350 days. As the result of sitting in the Defender's cramped driver's seat day after day, with those formidable B.F. Goodrich Mud Terrains giving the same quality ride as a washing machine, the nerves in my right leg took a drubbing. The effects are not only still there, but worsening for reasons my neurologist cannot tell me. The Grenadier promised more leg room than I could possibly use, unless gravity reverses itself. Because of the nerve damage in my right leg, I have been relegated to the use of a cane for the rest of my natural life, or until the hours of therapy I go through each day eliminate the need for it, whichever comes first. (I am hoping for the latter.)
As if the above four reasons were not enough, or perhaps to confirm my good judgment, starting about four years ago, the check engine light in my Defender inexplicably came on quite frequently when I did nothing to deserve it. Occasionally, the engine would choke up, but it never stalled. When I restarted the engine, the check engine light would disappear, and so no diagnostic code would show. My mechanic could not figure out what it was. After experiencing this hundreds of times, I reasoned that it had to be the gas line, but to check that would have required a major, expensive, possibly-futile job, so I had no choice but to wait for the situation to worsen when it might be possible to figure out the problem. In the meantime, I would be in no position to take it on another long road trip, so my decision about the Grenadier was confirmed. But there also no way that I could sell it for what it would be worth when running smoothly. But I would need a place to park it somewhere when the Grenadier arrived because I could not park either on the street. So, what was I going to do, just let it sit somewhere and hope the problem resolved itself? Wistful thinking, to be sure. As usual, I knew there was a solution just waiting to break through the fog. Time would tell.
Back to the Grenadier. Ever since I ordered my Grenadier, I had been trying to get someone to tell me precisely how high it would be with a roof rack, which I needed. My best measurements informed me that it might not fit into my current parking space in my condo's garage. But there was one parking space that it would fit nicely into, so, for almost one year, I had been negotiating quietly with the owner of that parking space to exchange spaces with me, thinking that I might be selling my Defender. Finally, at 11:00 p.m. on the night before I was to pick up my Grenadier, we reached an agreement. After several attempts over 12 years to get that spot, it was mine.
So, on July 12, Annie and I took an Uber 135 miles to Philadelphia, where my Grenadier was patiently waiting. (That's where the closet dealer is to me.) The temperature was 105 degrees. When we got there, there were some accessories on the roof rack that exceeded the height limitation in my new parking space, so I had them removed. After signing over a nice chunk of my 401-k to INEOS, and taking a few quick lessons in how a modern car key works (e.g., starting with the key), Annie and I got on our way home. It was not exactly a relaxing drive because my 1994 manual shift Defender 90 is 1983 technology, so I had to learn on the fly how to adjust to an automatic shift (not to mention roll down the windows), but also to 40 years of technology changes, not one of which I considered an improvement, but were mandated by US-DOT to admit the vehicle to our shores. I am now on about page 10 of 279 in the owner's manual, so I have some learning to do.
On the way home to D.C. we stopped off at an outfitter about 20 miles down the road from the INEOS dealership to discuss the "rear seat delete." The Grenadier is useless to me for long trips unless those rear seats eliminated. (Beneath the rear seat there are two batteries, so the installation is not simply to unbolt the seats. A new floor with access panels to the batteries needs to be installed.) I was told that it could be installed by the end of August, but since then I learned that that has been delayed due to a supply problem. I am expecting a call any day now to tell me that it has arrived, and when it does, it's back to Philly to have that done. In the meantime, I cannot take the Grenadier on any long trip until that rear seat is removed, and the Defender would be grounded until that check engine light issue got resolved.
Although I ordered the Grenadier with some of the accessories I have on the Defender, all that I have on the Defender is not available through Grenadier. I decided that even though I may not need all that I have now ---and have used--- on the Defender, I was going to add them anyway, just in case. If you use one of those accessories only once (e.g., winch), it worth having them simply because it gives you the confidence to take a trial you might not otherwise take, and they pay for the themselves even if you use them once. One of those items is a Brush Bar (aka, Bull Bar; in Australia, Roo bar; in Newfoundland, Moose Bar; in Washington, Politician Bar). That's that large chunk of metal piping you see on the front of some off-road vehicles protecting the front body. (On the Mercedes G-Wagon, a very capable off-road vehicle, they show up as chrome piping, as chrome is much better to push away golf carts at exclusive country-clubs or shopping carts in Whole Foods parking lots.) While on several trips to Manitoba I had to nudge some bison out of the way, and almost had a few encounters with moose on Newfoundland and Alaska, and the brush bar is especially helpful in plowing through the brush overhanging some trails. This accessory will not be available until after October 3, but not having it will not be a show-stopper.
Back to the Defender. As the Grenadier's arrival day approached, I was confronted with three puzzles.
First, did I really want to part with a vehicle that has been with me for five of my six beloved German shepherds on so many adventures? After debating the question, I decided that that there was no way I could part with it, even if it just sat in my garage appreciating in value daily.
Second, having decided to keep the Defender, and wait for that pesky to go way. the next puzzle was where to park it since it cannot be parked on the street. As good luck would have it, I persuaded a friend in the condo who owns one of the orphan parking spaces to sell me his spot, and we closed on the purchase last Friday. And that parking spot is probably the third bast spot in the building.
Third, to give the check-engine problem the opportunity to turn into a fixable problem, I drove it once a week to take Annie swimming. Two weeks ago, after I filled up the Defender's gas tank, when I got to where I was going, I smelled gas. I checked under the rear of the vehicle and discovered that gas leaking out. Since I was just a few miles from the mechanic's, I figured that the leak had to be coming from the top of the tank and decided to make a go-for-it to the mechanic's, eight miles away. When I arrived, the leak had stopped, as I predicted. After two days, and $2000, they discovered that the leak was coming from the gas line connecting the original tank with the auxiliary tank I had installed in 2019 after the Defender was hauled back from Kansas after the transmission and transfer case went out on me in a snowstorm crossing the plains. I have driven the Defender a half dozen times since I got it back without any sign of a check-engine light. Once again, my judgment seems to have served me well. So, now I have the Defender in tip-top shape, a place to park it, the Grenadier to prepare for a new round of road-trips, and the best spot in the condo to park it. (I shudder to think of what might have happened if I had decided to set off on a road trip with the Defender and that check-engine light problem still unresolved.)
Let me talk about Annie. As readers of my blog also know, after my beloved Donner died, looking out ten years, I decided that I had to downsize my choice of a dog breed. Since I have long been an advocate for pit bulls, I had to put my money where mouth was and so I adopted Annie, an adorable, three-year-old brindle-colored pit bull, or at least she pretends to be one. What a sweetheart she is. While she is not German shepherd, she does not pretend to be. She is her own dog. Since she spent some time on the street before I got her, she had some socializing to go through, and she is well along that path, and ready for her first road trip ever. Since I am sure she has never been to, say, the Arctic Ocean, she is in for a surprise when we get on the road.
As if the Defender, the Grenadier, the two parking spaces, Annie, and my leg-nerve issue were not enough to complicate the decision on where we go this year, one other monkey wrench was thrown into the works this year, my eyes. Without going into detail, last September, I had to under two surgeries to my left eye, the same eye that suffered a stroke in 2016 that left me permanently legally blind in that eye. While I have 20/20 vision in my right eye, in May, my ophthalmologist advised on another surgery as soon as possible, one that would require four weeks of recovery, during which time I had to be within quick access to a major hospital center. While I had the option to postpone this new surgery until I returned, the doctor said that that would not be advisable as it would complicate the operation. So, I had the survey done on the earliest possible date, August 27, meaning that I cannot get on the road to any remote location until September 24th, three weeks after my original plan.
Putting all this together, here is what I am working with:
a- The Grenadier will not be suitable for a long road trip for another week or so until the rear seat is deleted;
b- The Defender appears to be in shape for another road trip, but not if I need to sleep in my vehicle
c- My doctor wants me near a major hospital center until September 24;
d- I need to take an advance trip or two to make sure I can still do on these trips what I have to do to be safe;
e- Even if I left on the next OTR on September 24, since my trips usually take six weeks, that would take me to November 5th, well into the cold zone, but still five weeks short of my 2016 trip after trip-interrupting incidents.
f- I have not had time to devote the two uninterrupted weeks it takes to prepare, but since I still have not unpacked from my last trip in 2022, I can probably compress that into a few days.
My plan, then, is to start preparing now, and to take at least two advanced trips, one in the Defender and one in the Grenadier when the rear seat is deleted, and then get on the road for OTR 2024 with Annie. When that departure date occurs will determine where we head off to, although the Donner Party Trail is a distinct possibility. After all, I already worked up the detailed plan for that in 2021.
Since on these local trips I stay in one camp for several days, they are not as exciting as my usual trips, so I may or may not be blogging until I get on the road for good. I may, however, post some road signs just so you can see where in the world we are heading.
Although there are still some uncertainties hanging over this OTR, the one known is that I must get on the road somewhere, as it has been too long since my last one, and this could be my last.
Questions?
