“How on earth did she get that thing over here without killing herself?!” asked the RV repair guy.
“Um, she’s a really good driver?” Franklin told him.
We knew the brakes had problems. The mechanic who did the inspection said that there was air in the brake lines and that a caliper was bad. The guy who sold the RV to us said that he knew there was air in the brake lines but he could bleed them for us and everything would be fine.
The brakes were virtually nil when we test drove the RV but when we picked it up to drive it home, after watching Jack bleed the brakes for what seemed like forever, it drove … better. Maybe RV brakes are just mushy? Maybe it’s all the extra weight?
I drove the Transit across the state from the Atlantic coast to the Gulf coast side (although not actually on the coast, it was more inland), and I just responded to the brakes as I felt them, giving myself the space and time I needed to wrangle the giant vehicle through Florida traffic.
I immediately scheduled a brake inspection and repair when we got home. The only RV mechanic that Franklin could find nearby charged a fortune, but beggars can’t be choosers, as they say. Brakes are non-negotiable and worth whatever expense is necessary to be in working condition.
So I took the Transit in, and when Franklin called to get an update on the diagnosis and cost estimate, the mechanic told him that the brakes were basically gone and that it was a miracle I was able to drive it at all, let alone stop it. They were so bad that it took 3 days longer than expected to repair the brakes (part of that was waiting on parts).
This is all that was left of the brake pad and the rotor was trashed beyond all hope of recovery.
But the brakes did get repaired and the mechanic actually held more of a conversation with me when I came in, than with whatever man happened to be with me, and I got the feeling I had earned some measure of respect for handling the beast with no brakes.
As I told Franklin, when it comes to manual labor like mechanical work or construction work, look for the shop that has the cranky old dude in it – you have a good chance of him actually knowing what he’s doing and of him treating you fairly. The best case scenario is a shop that has both a cranky old dude and a young, energetic person who likes to nerd out about the subject, but if you want a sense of security about the work that’s being done, a cranky old dude who nevertheless seems to like his job and has been doing it his whole life is a good place to start.
