[Richard]

Sunday,

I arm myself with a  second 5 gallon can of diesel, some different hoses, and pipe fittings. We return with 10 gallons and resolve. The coach cranks and I am able to get 4 miles downhill to an exit, that fortuitously has a level gravel parking space.

Now I can safely work on the driver side of the coach. Removing the shiny vanity panel covering the tank allows me to access the fuel hose entering the tank. It’s about 14 inches in, and there is only about 4 inches space between the top of the tank and the basement ceiling above it. I was extremely lucky in that some of the tools I carry are large crow’s feet wrenches used to loosen the air fittings on the air bags. One of them fit the fitting on the fuel line. No way was a regular wrench going to work.

Using a blow off gun combined with a rubber stopper drilled out for the nozzle, I was able to pressurize the fuel line. I suspected it was stopped up or collapsed. Nope. Air blew right through it, and gave the car a diesel shower.

I put the air on the tank fitting expecting to hear gurgling. Nope. Massive air into the tank, no bubbling at all.  I removed the elbow on top of the tank and discovered the fuel pick up tube had fractured at the fitting and fallen into the tank. Das is nicht gud.

   

You can see where the copper tube has fractured inside the brass fitting. 

It’s getting late, but we can safely sleep in the coach tonight. Oh yeah. I only put a 1/4 tank of fresh water in when we left to start the mountain section. We are out of water. We have bottled drinking water, but no water for showers. Rhonda is not fond of my diesel aftershave. GoJo only goes so far.