To Squeal or Not to Squeal

In our last blog, we briefly mentioned that the Nomad was going in for repair for a squeal that became more frequent and obnoxious. Jill had two panic attacks that day on the road as it seemed that the noise was frying her brain. By the time we arrived at the Shenendoah Hills campground, the sound was unbearable. It was at a constant squeal and sometimes had a train whistle sonorous. Dave thought it might be the AC compressor unit and possibly not a belt, but it was hard to tell. All we knew was, after this day of driving, we are both at our wits end! At this campground, the manager, Sandi, gave us the name and number of a reputable garage only a mile down the road back from which we came. We called and made the appointment for tomorrow (Nov. 5th at 10:00a.m.). Good thing it wasn't any earlier...

We slept well considering how overtired and stressed we were. obviously, we weren't sure what was up
with the RV and if it was going to be expensive or not. We had basically made it passed the halfway point on our journey - do we still forge ahead or go back home? The next morning we got ourselves as well as our gear together and started up the Nomad by 9:30 a.m. I was sitting in the co-pilots' chair and waited while it warmed up. The squeal was obnoxious in a matter of minutes. (I even saw the blinds go up on a neighbors' RV--sorry folks...). Dave went to the bath house to clean up before hitting the road and said that you could hear it all over the campground. We checked out at 9:45 and pulled into Madison Auto and Tire shortly thereafter.

We were greeted by Linda and she got the information she needed off the Nomad. Then, Tim, the mechanic on duty tried to find the squeal. He tried gunning the motor, shutting it off and starting it a number of times and still he couldn't hear a thing. The Nomad had decided to play it cool and be quiet for this hour apparently. When Linda came in and said there would be no charge because Tim couldn't find anything, we became pissed. We were NOT leaving there until SOMETHING was done to the Nomad.  (Yes, we were sick puppies by this point...) For the first time in two days, we actually wanted the Nomad to make a noise and it had stopped the squealing as we pulled into the garage parking lot.

Dave suggested that he take Tim for a ride to see if he could recreate the noise. "The Nomad was as quiet as a mouse," Dave said when they returned. "We went about 5 miles up the road and then I turned around.  The Nomad still wasn't making any noise & I wasn't going to waste anymore of Tims' time. I just didn't know what was wrong with this thing."  Finally, the noise made its little squeak as they were about to pull in. Now that Tim heard it, he wanted to drive it again with the "dog house" off. (The dog house covers the motor on the inside of the cab).  Then he and another guy drove the Nomad down the road again.


One thing we realized as we saw the two technicians drive off in the RV - they were driving not only our sole set of wheels, but also our house. It can be an unsettling feeling that's very difficult to describe! They came back with the Nomad in less than 5 minutes & it was squealing loudly. Tim told us it was the AC compressor making the noise. "Fine. Just cut it off and we'll fix the AC at another time." Good, Dave and I aren't losing our minds.

Inside during both test drives, Jill spoke to the two people in the waiting room. A gentleman named Scott who was finishing up an oil change and a woman named Peggy, who happened to be Tim's grandmother.  We were both visibly stressing and not from Virginia. So, as most of our conversations begin,
"Where are you from?"
"Maine" , Jill replied.
"You're a long way from home."
"Yes, we are. I'm Jill and this is Dave."
"Hi. I'm Scott.  I live in Orange County." He reached out his hand and we shook it.

"I'm Peggy. I'm Tim's grandmother. Don't worry. He's real good at what he does. He'll find the problem. I know what it's like when your car is acting up and then it doesn't do it when you bring it to the shop. Some people think you're crazy." (Even after the half hour drive about--she said," He'll find that problem or else I'll give him a swift kick in the butt.")

Peggy was about 70 years old and had a deep southern accent. She was slender and had a passion for rescuing sick dogs from the shelter. She also worked at a respite care facility and hurt herself lifting a gentleman who had fallen on her shift about a month or so ago.

Scott was a short, pudgy middle-aged man who was trying to purchase a house of his own and was RVing too. He departed and wished us well as he went to pay his bill. Peggy had left soon thereafter also saying that she'll come back when Tim's not quite as busy. Linda came into the room carrying an envelope and said, "That gentleman had left this for you."

It wasn't long before we paid our bill, chatted with Linda for another 15 minutes, and Dave was able to finish his cup of coffee. All in all, the Nomad was a cheap fix and we were on our way down the road 20 miles to the nearest Walmart in Ruckersville, Virginia for the night as it was already afternoon and we were starving for lunch. We just didn't have the energy to drive 4 more hours into North Carolina. We'll tackle that tomorrow on the 6th... and we'll do it QUIETLY!!

Until next time,
The Happy Campers,
Jill & Dave