I thought about much as the machine breathed beside me and my infusion medication dripped into my arm, and I realized that I’m actually living a better life than I ever have, that I’m lucky, that MS has opened my eyes.
We set off for a sunset at one vista before hiking in the moonlight to another where we would watch a sunrise the following morning . . . but nature had other plans . . . other plans as in tornado watch right where we were . . .
And it was around here — in the middle of the most breathtaking color-change — that I . . . um . . . Reader, I’ll just be blunt with you: I dropped Andrew’s phone off the mountain cliff.
Welcome to New York where people hustle on the sidewalks faster than the cars on the roads and where the sounds of horns, exhausts, advertisements, music, more explode in the air. New York, an alternate fairytale where skyscrapers are enchanted and stretch so tall that they become invisible in the clouds and where colors — loud and sharp — blur to create a vibrant energy all its own . . .
Andy and I stood back to look long and hard at our work. Even though it was a small task, this was our first job we could see, our first visual gratification . . .
Sure we could be embarrassed about admitting that we forgot to use our 1965 Clark Cortez’s choke . . . but instead, we are simply happy it means we can ditch the starter fluid and get our motorhome running easily!
It took six days — six long days — to tackle our brakes. It started with our first horror-filled rides in the Cortez then continued to a blend of wrong parts, sawed off brake lines, and angle-grinded exhaust pipes. However, it ended with us finishing the job, which I can say now — There’s no better feeling of accomplishment!
“LET’S DRIVE IT AWAY!” I yelled over the roar of our beast’s engine, pointing straight ahead to an unseen spot in the future where we would be traveling down some backcountry dirt road, following the Milky Way. Andrew honked and honked and honked the horn because OUR CORTEZ STARTED!
We followed the trail of flowers where butterflies danced in front of us, zooming in and out of the blooms to suck more nectar . . .
It’s our first stop at the Cortez since it was delivered and we learn it has a dead starter and corroded engine wires.
But we expected issues like this — and we will continue to expect this as we work on our fifty-four-year-old motorhome. But hey, we chose this because we don’t want easy. We want different.
As we work to refurbish, modernize, and customize our 1965 Clark Cortez motorhome, we are tracking all purchases and costs. Here’s that information-breakdown.
There’s much to do on our fifty-four-year-old motorhome so here is our master plan, which details all of our efforts to refurbish, modernize, and customize our 1965 Clark Cortez.
After our Cortez had its first inspection by Mechanic Andrew, here is what was uncovered.
This cliff view resembled a painting: There were trees with pops of vibrant reds, yellows, and greens — others, white with flower pedals. Then, as if it couldn’t get any better, a bald eagle shot out from the valley, swooping in the air before circling over the Blue Ridge.
It’s here, it’s here! Our rare 1965 Clark Cortez has arrived but not without hilarious faults and unimaginable efforts to get it started. However, an antique finicky motorhome and a story to go along with it is exactly what we wanted so this is the start to our adventure!