The Nebraska Itasca

A Metaphor

A few months after moving back to the USA from New Zealand in 2021, I flew from Nebraska to Idaho to slap down a few thousand dollars cash for a 1978 Winnebago Itasca. 

Below are some photos taken upon purchase. It had barely changed in decades with much of the original decor intact: a real classic!

Miss Daisy, as I’ve come to call her, needed three quarts of oil at the dealership upon purchase, adding a quart per day to make it back from Idaho to Nebraska. The trip took three full days. 

It’s a wonder neither the engine nor the brakes overheated on the mountain pass into Jackson, WY on the first day of the trip. I’d not drive this RV over such a mountain pass again. 

Although I wouldn’t advise most people to do such a thing, I’ve always enjoyed throwing caution to the wind and doing slightly zany things. It worked out all right for me, though I often look back in wonderment at some of my life decisions.

Several days after purchase in Valentine, Nebraska on the way back to home base.

10,000 miles and two years later, I’ve replaced all the cushions, numerous fuel filters, spark plugs, wires, rotor, and distributor cap.

My gal is thirsty in a number of ways!

A dear friend removed the 1978 generator, hammered the generator compartment door flat, and replaced my clutch fan, among a few other things.

I also bought a freestanding 100W solar panel which charges a Bluetti battery pack with AC and DC outputs. I use this to power string lights and my phone and laptop when I’m “off grid” which is the vast majority of the time.

Christmas 2022 in Virginia

Winter 2021 in Padre Island, Texas

Spring 2022 near Joshua Tree National Park, California

After a winter in Texas, the southwest, and California, in spring 2022 I broke down in Wichita, Kansas driving back to Nebraska. I was very lucky to find a great son and father mechanic team who rebuilt the transmission for an extremely reasonable price. I was parked on their rural property for five days: it was an unexpected detour, but I had a great time.

My RV was in very good condition for being built in 1978, largely due to being housed in Idaho’s dry climate for over 40 years. Thus, it came with many original features, including the furnace, range, sink, shower, upholstery, shag carpet, and blinds. The engine, refrigerator (?), and AC unit were replaced by a previous owner at some point (1980s? 1990s? early 2000s?). 

I like retaining original features and I’ve struggled with the recent impulse to upgrade some items. Nevertheless, this week I decided to book into a campsite and do some upgrades. First, I removed and replaced the 1990s era house battery pack:

Second, I removed the original blinds, whose pulley cords were finally fraying after 45 years. I installed more functional and attractive cellular blackout shades. I would have preferred light filtering shades but these are more useful when parked in brightly lit areas. 

The future’s so bright, we need new shades

This week I’m also in the process of replacing all 14 clearance lights, which look original (yes, really!), and adding magnetic latches onto my cupboards inside. 

Whew!

RVs in general require a lot of maintenance (just as houses do), and old RVs in particular are generally a work in progress. I’m not very mechanically inclined, and I’ve been working on things as time and money allow, re-prioritizing some tasks along the way that seemed unimportant. The good thing is that parts for old RVs, especially the engines, are cheap, and DIY is easier than modern vehicles.

When I was back in New Zealand in 1999-2000, I owned a 1977 Volvo station wagon. It was partly my time in that wonderful country that made me less fearful of embarking on such an endeavor as living in a vintage RV. One thing I learned from Kiwis is that many vintage items can be repaired long past the throw-by date that would have had them tossed onto a trash heap in the USA. 

Someone obviously felt devoted to keeping this old gal for over four decades, with hints that she was owned by one person during most of that time. I wish I knew more of her history, but I am carrying on that tradition. 

One thing is clear to me after the last two years: I keep getting weirder and more nomadic and independent as I get older. At age 39 I lost my husband, massively downsized, and then moved to a New Zealand flat 1/6 the size of the mansion in which I’d been living. 

Two years ago I was forced to downsize again, shipping three 4’ x 8’ crates back to the USA: two with lab equipment, and only one with personal belongings. The vast majority of that third personal crate consists of books that remain in storage. So what did I bring into my RV? Two suitcases of clothing. A few days after I bought her, I spent less than $300 to kit out her kitchen at a consignment shop.

I love RV living and although I do want to own real estate someday, primarily so that I can have a garden, I’m very happy with this lifestyle for now: I was looking into living in a “campervan” in New Zealand before the covid era.

Unfortunately, government policies have created a mass exodus of people moving into vehicles who wouldn’t otherwise choose that lifestyle. Most people aren’t lucky enough to find a solid vintage RV, so their car has to do.

I’ve seen evidence of this being in various parking lots over the last two years. These are not the traditionally homeless, but people who clearly have jobs and are still struggling to make ends meet. I’ve seen multiple women in scrubs and other work uniforms, sometimes with pets in tow. So despite having less than most middle class Americans, I’m very grateful for what I do have.

Nomadic living is likely the future for a lot of people, as government policies make the traditional American dream unaffordable and unattainable for an ever-increasing number of people.

That said, it’s something I genuinely wanted to do in 2019, and taking into account my original purchase and all upgrades and maintenance, I have spent only a few hundred dollars a month on average for housing and “utilities.” This is a fraction of what the average American spends on rent or a mortgage.

I’m sure many people are puzzled by my choices, but I’ve rarely cared what others think. My lifestyle feels very liberating to me, partly because it’s thrifty and less stress-inducing that being forced to work in academia or a corporation. I can work on my own professional goals at my own pace.

Humans are natural nomads: in the era of the glorification of “15 minute cities prisons” I am claiming my right to move about the planet. We have been doing it for tens of thousands of years and it’s a right that’s been steadily eroding for the last 100 years. It’s our birthright as a species. 

There are people who can and do make a modest living putting their “vanlife” or “tinyhome” lifestyle on Instagram, replete with paid promotions from companies selling everything from AC alternatives to solar battery packs. 

As you can see, I’m not an Instagram influencer! Nevertheless, I hope this post brings some joy, hope, and inspiration to a few people.

This week I also aim to compile and post vintage abstracts from the early to mid-1900s medical literature regarding the utility of Coley’s toxins, and I hope that post will have the same effect. 

It is in that sense that I see this post as a metaphor for the robustness and utility of items which have long since faded into obscurity, away from the conscious awareness of popular culture.

Thank you for reading!