With a Little Help from My Friends

Victor has always had a soft spot. On rainy nights, his tears would flow gently from somewhere around the back door and pool up around the trunk area. And yes, even two-ton, 21 year old, mini vans can cry. Only these tears aren't the kind you can wipe away with a tissue and kind words. It takes a little problem solving, some RTV silicone, and maybe some new weatherstripping.

I've known about this little leak ever since August when Victor and I first became friends. I pulled off the saggy weatherstripping and reinstalled it with some silicone to back it up. This was supposed to be the one and only fix, and the leak appeared to have gone away...for a little while.

Low and behold, the caulking on the back window was cracking and letting water in too. I caked that up with some silicone and the problem went away again...for a little while.

Last week, Seattle saw the most rain its seen in months, and the soggy floor in the back of the van reflected that fact. Where was this water coming from!? The leak that was afflicting the van this time was not giving away too many clues. The leak would get worse when I was driving (vibrations maybe) and always seemed to fall some place a little bit different (one day here, one day ten inches away over here, next day a couple drops over here too...). Finding the root cause and stopping it was baffling me.

Chance threw me a little luck and gave me a dry place to sleep this weekend. My friend Jackie was headed out of town to Idaho in hopes of a little wintertude, and offered up her studio for me to crash in. Eager to rest my weary eyes and ponder about the possible causes of the leak while not worrying about getting leaked on, I accepted the offer.

I'm going to attribute it to the good nights sleep and fresh mind that brought me to an astounding discovery the next time I looked at the van. I quickly took notice to the brake light housing precariously situated above the rear hatch. I don't know why I was just noticing it for the first time now, but fact is, it stood out to me this day.

Wondering how the housing was mounted, I unscrewed the two bolts holding it in place. Voila! Holes in the roof! Who puts holes in the roof like this? And doesn't seal them up!?

I wiped the area down, dried it off, cleaned the brake light housing, and shoved a crap ton of silicone in and around those holes. I know I put enough in; when I tightened down the screws that held the housing in place, the silicone oozed out the edges just a little bit...perfect.

Just to give you a good visual of what was happening (or so my detective reasoning tells me), the water was seeping under the edges of the brake light (even more so while I was driving...makes sense) and passing through the two mounting holes for the plastic clips. When the water passed through, it would drip onto the reflective insulation I installed. From there, gravity pulled the water into whatever direction was easiest to follow to get to the floor. Hence, why the water would show up in slightly different places each time. Wunderbar!

Sunday night, the Bruins played the Canadiens. I watched the game, so naturally, the Bruins lost. Either way, getting to watch some hockey with a solid grilled chicken sandwich, beer, and one of the best corn dogs I've had in Seattle was a good way to celebrate my defiance over nature. It rained Sunday night, and no water got into the van.

Cheers,

(Cries-no-more) Victor and (Dry-fo-sho) Ryan

Low Snow = Less Dough

Where’s the snow?! All over the western half of the United States, this is the question plaguing the mind of every skier and snowboarder. While all you east coasters have been basking in the glorious gifts of Mother Winter, the rest of us have been scratching our heads and twiddling our thumbs waiting for the first big dump of the season. And with this being the first weekend of February, time is quickly running out.

These conditions have certainly put the damper on the visions I had of driving each Friday to the base of a mountain, skiing for two or three days, and returning to work with a rejuvenated soul. The weekend warrior van tactic hasn’t quite had its chance to materialize yet. But poor snow pack isn’t the only culprit for this. It’s hard to be a van-dwelling weekend warrior when you’re not around to live in your van. [Duh!].

My first day back in Seattle after coming back from Tokyo. Sixty five degrees
and sunny. No snow on the mountains. When I landed, it was 10 AM; seven
hours before our plane left Tokyo. The weatherthat day caused me to wonder if I
really did travel through time, winding up in Seattle in July. It was January 25th.

This weekend marks the start of eight weeks of having Victor for my primary place of residence, and it will only be the second full weekend that I have spent living in it. Since December 17th, The trip to SeaTac airport has become a bit routine for me. First, I flew to Iowa for Christmas, then to Utah, then I had a highly anticipated trip to Japan, and then a visit to Colorado. The amazing part of all these trips is that every one of them has involved some quantity of skiing (there’s a big contrast between the quality of skiing in Japan and Iowa, but it was still skiing nonetheless).

Overall, what this means is that my execution of the "successful bum" lifestyle has primarily been during the workweek. Almost every morning that I’ve woken up on my two-foot wide bed has begun with preparations for a full day of sitting in front of a keyboard. So why would I want this to be a good ski season in Washington? Why would I want nights in the van to be cold and wet? These warm temps have made for some astonishingly comfortable sleeping arrangements. De-cacooning myself every morning has not been as dreadful as it was at the beginning of this venture. While the entire ski community is in an uproar complaining about the low coverage and higher temperatures this past January, I'm reluctantly rejoicing. [Blasphemy!].

Looking down Miowa Bowl wondering where I should defile these
freshies with my skis. This was the only sun-break all day.

Obviously, rejoicing over the warm weather is pretty easy for a guy who's just returned from ten days of skiing pow in Japan. But all this traveling comes at a cost; a cost that more than counterbalances the savings I've acquired through rent-free living. And its got me wondering, am I spending my rent money too quickly?

Flights, lift tickets, and dining, have definitely got my funds feeling dry, which is why these poor conditions on the mountains are slightly (only slightly) okay with me. A weekend to recuperate my body and my wallet won't go unappreciated.

However, as this coming weekend approaches, I find myself wishing for a sudden drop in temperature in the forecast. [Shouts of agreement from the skiing crowd!] 

But wish I may, wish I might, the rain in the passes will last all night. 

And when the weekend comes to be, I'll be in the laundromat, sipping on tea.

The forecast is looking gloomy, everywhere. For the next week, I'll embrace these conditions. I'll keep my date with Ayn Rand going strong, climb indoors to my heart's content, catch up on worldly responsibilities, and comfortably put myself to bed each night without steam billowing from my lungs.

Hopefully the snow gods will catch onto my good attitude and reward me and the rest of the skiing crowd with some fluffy white manna from heaven sometime soon. We will strap on our boots and head for the trees, giving our offerings and thanks in the form of whoops and hollers.