Her Maiden Voyage

It was snowing in the coast range. If The Captain had known it would be snowing in the coast range, he probably would have bailed on this shakedown cruise, but the weather people said the worst of the storm was over. Not that The Captain is afraid of snow. Don't start putting THAT idea in your noggin. But he was a little nervous about how the barely-capable Ford F-150 would do pulling the trailer. The MaxFunCan.

It was raining at the RV Park. Pelting down rain. The kind of rain that is fixing to become snow just 30 miles east of here. We set up the MaxFunCan on a strip of asphalt surrounded by what is, after the storms of last night, a grassy pond. This is the first time for everything Can-related, so there was a lot of unwrapping new hoses, reading directions, and trial-and-error.

However, trial-and-error did not work on the furnace. We followed the directions, and the supplemental directions given by our trailer salesperson, which included turning on a gas stove burner to make sure the gas was reaching the furnace (helpful, since the burner was at least emitting some heat). After a few hours of futile technical assistance by the kind RV people, we took a break, turned off the burner and watched some Buffy the Vampire Slayer via Netflix (well duh, the RV park has wi-fi). After not more than ten minutes of undead-booty-kicking, the furnace kicked on by itself. We are thinking that turning off the stove burner, which was directly under the thermostat, might have had something to do with the furnace's rise from the dead.  Or it could have been Buffy.

Success! The rain is pelting, we are hungry, having missed lunch in the excitement of the action, so we hit the town (Cannon Beach), Mo's in particular, as it has beach-front windows, and we can experience the anger of the Pacific without any weather-related pain. I recommend the bouillabaisse.

So why isn't the Northern Oregon Coast a tourist bonanza?

We ate dinner to the dulcet tones of the profoundly Tourrette's-inflicted birthday boy sitting behind me. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck-fuck! Fuck!" Ah, the Children of Tourrette's. What sweet music they make.

We came "home" to a warm can. And the voyage continues...