Three days ago I put in new points. Suddenly she is running on all four cylinders again, and sounding a lot letter. Today I found my timing light -- hard to lose something in a space small as a bus but I did -- and set the timing. Still sounds a little loud but much, much better. I'll know more after a few more road tests. Meanwhile $800 worth of parts to rebuild the engine are starting to come in this week. Hopefully, I won't need them. Not just yet anyway.
The weather continues hot here at Caballo Lake State Park. And the dawns and sunsets just as beautiful. Cows wandered into the park last night and grazed placidly among the tents and RVs.
|Just another breath take away dawn at Caballo|
Yet they are beautiful. They move like ghost critters in the moonlight bathed silver above and black beneath. They walk without hurry looking for scraps.
And rattlesnakes. Our camp host, Jack, killed and skinned a small one yesterday and mounted the skin on a board. The snake had tried to bite a ranger's leg. It only got a mouthful of cloth for its effort.
But the night time shadow cows are the more interesting. No one seems to know where they come from. They walk down the river and emerge among us in moonlight. By morning they are gone.
Jack, by the way, and his wife, originally from Tennessee, have been full-timing it for five years and love Caballo with its thirsty salt cedar trees, rustling cottonwoods and wild birds as much as I do.
Tomorrow I look at an apartment in Truth or Consequences. It's up for rent for a few months. It may be just the place to settle in for a while and do some serious writing before pressing on in the fall. Or it may be time for a longer sojourn. The bus has 41 years on its chassis. And I am older than my bus by three decades. We all wear out eventually.
|Another dawn in a different hue|
Life is good sometimes.