RLI
Member
Two weeks ago, I went on a 3 day holiday with my mates and our children at the Mann river reserve about 170 clicks from home. The nightmare began the day before whilst rushing trying to fit a dual battery system and fridge slide to the Navara at the last minute. What should have been a straight forward job (3 to 4hrs) turned out to take 10hrs. About 2.00am I decided I better go to bed.
Tuesday morning, pissing down with rain, I got drenched hooking up the Jayco camper, my daughter god bless her, dropped a container with the eggs in it, then slipped on the yokes and hit her head on the side of the camper trailer resulting in her receiving a large cut above her eye, (screaming, blood pissing out everywhere) mum comes to the rescue. Thank god she is a nurse.
Meanwhile the father in-law and I have discovered the camper trailer roof will not lower properly. At this time I am thinking to myself, maybe we should stay at home, typical ex-soldier, I soldier on. We were supposed to be RVing with my mates at 9.30am at the Shell service station at Halfway Creek on the pacific Hwy (that wasn’t going to happen). I rang my mate Wayne to advise him and Matt that the girls and I will RV with them at Macas’in Grafton at 10.30am.
It turns out that the roof bolts that connect the wind up mechanism to the roof have broken (the whole four of them). Still pissing down with rain and now turning into a thunderstorm, I am now trying to fix the camper trailer. My wife gods bless her tries to help keep me dry with an umbrella when I am already soaking wet.
Finally, we get going at 11.00am. I ring Wayne and Matt to advise them not to wait but to head to Mann river reserve and me and the girls will meet them there later on. Travelling up the Pacific hwy to Grafton was freakish with the heavy down poor occurring. I decided to ring Wayne for a weather update (it is pointless traveling to a camping spot if it is going to be shit weather I thought to myself) Wayne reassured me that the weather was going to be fine.
With dick-brains trying to over take you at any opportunity they see, it is like being on patrol on the streets of Baghdad (waiting for the inedible) and sure enough it happened. 30 clicks west of Grafton on the Gwydir Hwy near the Town of Mann River, a dick-brain misjudge his move ending on the wrong side of the hwy, luckily for all, missing a potential head on collision and instead he skidded coming back on the right side of the hwy ending up in a farm paddock ( The F---stick)
Just about to start the climb up the Gibraltar Range, when I get stuck behind and old coot towing a 25ft caravan with an old ford falcon wagon. We are all now travelling at 15 clicks an hour with a convoy of over 20 cars and trucks behind me. Thinking I am doing the right thing, I decide to look for a position to pull over and allow the entire traffic to pass. Still raining, I see a farmers drive way to pull over. Suddenly the camper and the Navara are bogged, I engaged fwd low and the rear diff-lock, no-go, I rock the camper and Navara backwards and forwards still no-go. I jump out and realise the camper is bogged to the axle. (I am saying to myself politely, where’s the wife and the umbrella now).
Finally, covered in mud, I decide to have another go to get free, this time I decide to put the foot to the pedal and give it some Michael Schumacher with an eight and ten year old daughters cheering me on. With the hwy clear I give it the Schumacher, engine revving, wheels spinning, mud and crap flying everywhere girls cheering; I am now feeling proud of myself and actually for a spit second it did not worry me of all the dramas I had suffered. Suddenly all that changed, the smell you do not want to smell (the clutch) the camper and Navara chug free out of the bogged situation, however at a price that would come back to haunt me latter.
Half-way up the Gibraltar Range the clutch starts to slip, foggy, raining (I am thinking to myself why me o’lord) Then to make matters even worse, I catch up with the dick-brain that caused me to pull over with in the first place ( where’s the .50 cal machine gun and 40mm Vulcan cannon when you suddenly need it). Now I am starting to feel I might be in deep shit. With dick-brain crawling worse than a 50 ton log truck, my clutch starts to slip severely. (I am thinking to myself yet again, gee I wish I was still in the army an air strike would come in handy about now). Finally, we reach the summit and my constant flashing of my head lights caused dick-brain to pull over and let me and the rest of the traffic through. Hooray!
Clutch burning, windows down we glide down the Glen Innes side of the Gibraltar Range towards the Mann river reserve. Then another dick-brain emerges on the Old Glen Innes Rd. This dick-brain decides to over take me side-ways on a bend (what a flog-bag). On arrival at the Mann river reserve camp ground, the Navara finally staggers to a holt, the smell of a burnt clutch did not smell like victory.
The next three days were great, the mates and had planned the trip together a couple of months ago for a typical father son or father daughter time together out in the good old Australian bush. We explored Tommy’s rock Lookout named after a well-known Aboriginal bushman who was eventually shot. (What a pisser)
Friday morning, we were advised by a couple of other campers that an ugly incident occurred a week earlier at the camp ground. It turned out two groups of campers turned against one another resulting in knifes and bats being used against each other before the Parks and Wildlife officers and the police from Glen Innes were called in. Later that evening we were to experience a group of pissed-up scrote’s conducting wheelies in the camp ground area. After chasing these scrote’s, they decided to back there commodore wagon into a tree and whilst departing extremely fast, they also rolled a tyre of the rim before departing the area.
Saturday, we started to head back to Woolgoolga; I advised the boys I probably would only last about 50 clicks. 3 clicks in, I decided to get my mate Matt to tow my camper and I would try to limp my way back home or to Grafton. 10 clicks latter the Navara shit itself. With know phone coverage in the area, I decided to stay with the Navara and both my mates Matt and Wayne would take my daughters and camper trailer home. Wayne would contact the NRMA at the first opportunity that he could get phone coverage to advise the situation and location of myself and the car. At 1.30pm the boys head for home with the kids and camper trailers in tow. 3 hours latter the first car appears, a pair of good old boys wearing dirty old jeans with braces. One of the lads smiled at me with every second tooth missing. (I am now starting to think of the movie Deliverance staring Burt Reynolds, about inbreds in a remote location, remember the scene “Squeal like pig”) They ask “what’s your problem”, I tell them about my clutch, they say to me “you mite be hear till the morning boy” I said that’s fine by me, as they leave I go to the back of the Navara to retrieve my new axe and condor machete. At 6.10pm finally, the NRMA arrive with a tow truck and rescue me. (I was starting to hear those banjos playing the theme tune from Deliverance)
We travel back to Glen Innes to refuel and verify my NRMA coverage. Thank goodness that my wife and I had over the last twenty years premium coverage. This meant I was going to be towed from Glen Innes to Woolgoolga over 200 ks, free off charge. On the way home got talking to Luke the tow truck driver about the situation with the scrote’s we had doing burnouts at the campground area Friday night. It turns out there is a hippy commune not far away from the Mann river reserve and ever time the Police or Parks and Wildlife conduct drug busts, these scrote’s decide to terrorise the campers. (I am thinking, Bravo six niner, air-strikes required at the following co-ordinates, bring in the rain over)
Monday morning, order new h/clutch from Direct Clutch in Brisbane, f---k it at the same time new exhaust from Beaudesert exhausts in Queensland. Pull out gearbox and old clutch. Notice crank angle sensor shagged, order new one of those.
Tuesday, decide to pull out the dash whilst waiting for parts.
Wednesday, knacked my back trying to lift gearbox to bench area in my garage. (What a tool)
Friday, parts arrive, Direct Clutch and Beaudesert exhaust sent the right parts, typical Nissan F—k the order and send the wrong parts. (What a bunch of shit-bags)
Saturday, sending out an SOS on Navara forum re- assistance with sensor location for gauges.
Monday, gearbox, clutch and exhaust fitted. Another SOS sent to Navara forum with different heading asking for help and advice on fitting gauge sensors.
Thursday, finished.
Will post mods on forum
Regards,
Tuesday morning, pissing down with rain, I got drenched hooking up the Jayco camper, my daughter god bless her, dropped a container with the eggs in it, then slipped on the yokes and hit her head on the side of the camper trailer resulting in her receiving a large cut above her eye, (screaming, blood pissing out everywhere) mum comes to the rescue. Thank god she is a nurse.
Meanwhile the father in-law and I have discovered the camper trailer roof will not lower properly. At this time I am thinking to myself, maybe we should stay at home, typical ex-soldier, I soldier on. We were supposed to be RVing with my mates at 9.30am at the Shell service station at Halfway Creek on the pacific Hwy (that wasn’t going to happen). I rang my mate Wayne to advise him and Matt that the girls and I will RV with them at Macas’in Grafton at 10.30am.
It turns out that the roof bolts that connect the wind up mechanism to the roof have broken (the whole four of them). Still pissing down with rain and now turning into a thunderstorm, I am now trying to fix the camper trailer. My wife gods bless her tries to help keep me dry with an umbrella when I am already soaking wet.
Finally, we get going at 11.00am. I ring Wayne and Matt to advise them not to wait but to head to Mann river reserve and me and the girls will meet them there later on. Travelling up the Pacific hwy to Grafton was freakish with the heavy down poor occurring. I decided to ring Wayne for a weather update (it is pointless traveling to a camping spot if it is going to be shit weather I thought to myself) Wayne reassured me that the weather was going to be fine.
With dick-brains trying to over take you at any opportunity they see, it is like being on patrol on the streets of Baghdad (waiting for the inedible) and sure enough it happened. 30 clicks west of Grafton on the Gwydir Hwy near the Town of Mann River, a dick-brain misjudge his move ending on the wrong side of the hwy, luckily for all, missing a potential head on collision and instead he skidded coming back on the right side of the hwy ending up in a farm paddock ( The F---stick)
Just about to start the climb up the Gibraltar Range, when I get stuck behind and old coot towing a 25ft caravan with an old ford falcon wagon. We are all now travelling at 15 clicks an hour with a convoy of over 20 cars and trucks behind me. Thinking I am doing the right thing, I decide to look for a position to pull over and allow the entire traffic to pass. Still raining, I see a farmers drive way to pull over. Suddenly the camper and the Navara are bogged, I engaged fwd low and the rear diff-lock, no-go, I rock the camper and Navara backwards and forwards still no-go. I jump out and realise the camper is bogged to the axle. (I am saying to myself politely, where’s the wife and the umbrella now).
Finally, covered in mud, I decide to have another go to get free, this time I decide to put the foot to the pedal and give it some Michael Schumacher with an eight and ten year old daughters cheering me on. With the hwy clear I give it the Schumacher, engine revving, wheels spinning, mud and crap flying everywhere girls cheering; I am now feeling proud of myself and actually for a spit second it did not worry me of all the dramas I had suffered. Suddenly all that changed, the smell you do not want to smell (the clutch) the camper and Navara chug free out of the bogged situation, however at a price that would come back to haunt me latter.
Half-way up the Gibraltar Range the clutch starts to slip, foggy, raining (I am thinking to myself why me o’lord) Then to make matters even worse, I catch up with the dick-brain that caused me to pull over with in the first place ( where’s the .50 cal machine gun and 40mm Vulcan cannon when you suddenly need it). Now I am starting to feel I might be in deep shit. With dick-brain crawling worse than a 50 ton log truck, my clutch starts to slip severely. (I am thinking to myself yet again, gee I wish I was still in the army an air strike would come in handy about now). Finally, we reach the summit and my constant flashing of my head lights caused dick-brain to pull over and let me and the rest of the traffic through. Hooray!
Clutch burning, windows down we glide down the Glen Innes side of the Gibraltar Range towards the Mann river reserve. Then another dick-brain emerges on the Old Glen Innes Rd. This dick-brain decides to over take me side-ways on a bend (what a flog-bag). On arrival at the Mann river reserve camp ground, the Navara finally staggers to a holt, the smell of a burnt clutch did not smell like victory.
The next three days were great, the mates and had planned the trip together a couple of months ago for a typical father son or father daughter time together out in the good old Australian bush. We explored Tommy’s rock Lookout named after a well-known Aboriginal bushman who was eventually shot. (What a pisser)
Friday morning, we were advised by a couple of other campers that an ugly incident occurred a week earlier at the camp ground. It turned out two groups of campers turned against one another resulting in knifes and bats being used against each other before the Parks and Wildlife officers and the police from Glen Innes were called in. Later that evening we were to experience a group of pissed-up scrote’s conducting wheelies in the camp ground area. After chasing these scrote’s, they decided to back there commodore wagon into a tree and whilst departing extremely fast, they also rolled a tyre of the rim before departing the area.
Saturday, we started to head back to Woolgoolga; I advised the boys I probably would only last about 50 clicks. 3 clicks in, I decided to get my mate Matt to tow my camper and I would try to limp my way back home or to Grafton. 10 clicks latter the Navara shit itself. With know phone coverage in the area, I decided to stay with the Navara and both my mates Matt and Wayne would take my daughters and camper trailer home. Wayne would contact the NRMA at the first opportunity that he could get phone coverage to advise the situation and location of myself and the car. At 1.30pm the boys head for home with the kids and camper trailers in tow. 3 hours latter the first car appears, a pair of good old boys wearing dirty old jeans with braces. One of the lads smiled at me with every second tooth missing. (I am now starting to think of the movie Deliverance staring Burt Reynolds, about inbreds in a remote location, remember the scene “Squeal like pig”) They ask “what’s your problem”, I tell them about my clutch, they say to me “you mite be hear till the morning boy” I said that’s fine by me, as they leave I go to the back of the Navara to retrieve my new axe and condor machete. At 6.10pm finally, the NRMA arrive with a tow truck and rescue me. (I was starting to hear those banjos playing the theme tune from Deliverance)
We travel back to Glen Innes to refuel and verify my NRMA coverage. Thank goodness that my wife and I had over the last twenty years premium coverage. This meant I was going to be towed from Glen Innes to Woolgoolga over 200 ks, free off charge. On the way home got talking to Luke the tow truck driver about the situation with the scrote’s we had doing burnouts at the campground area Friday night. It turns out there is a hippy commune not far away from the Mann river reserve and ever time the Police or Parks and Wildlife conduct drug busts, these scrote’s decide to terrorise the campers. (I am thinking, Bravo six niner, air-strikes required at the following co-ordinates, bring in the rain over)
Monday morning, order new h/clutch from Direct Clutch in Brisbane, f---k it at the same time new exhaust from Beaudesert exhausts in Queensland. Pull out gearbox and old clutch. Notice crank angle sensor shagged, order new one of those.
Tuesday, decide to pull out the dash whilst waiting for parts.
Wednesday, knacked my back trying to lift gearbox to bench area in my garage. (What a tool)
Friday, parts arrive, Direct Clutch and Beaudesert exhaust sent the right parts, typical Nissan F—k the order and send the wrong parts. (What a bunch of shit-bags)
Saturday, sending out an SOS on Navara forum re- assistance with sensor location for gauges.
Monday, gearbox, clutch and exhaust fitted. Another SOS sent to Navara forum with different heading asking for help and advice on fitting gauge sensors.
Thursday, finished.
Will post mods on forum
Regards,
