JATAC update: After a near-death experience

One afternoon early last year I was driving the JATAC, our Tacoma/Four Wheel Camper combination, west on Arizona’s Highway 86—a two-lane, 65mph road flanked with emergency lanes. As I approached a side road coming in from the north, I saw a Subaru sedan waiting at the stop to turn east, across my lane. Meanwhile, an SUV in front of me put on its signal and pulled into the turn lane to turn north. As I passed the SUV, the driver of the Subaru, who had apparently missed seeing the white pickup and cabover camper headed his way, accelerated, pulled out in front of me—and then stopped as he saw what he’d done. This left me heading toward his door at 60mph-plus, about 50 feet away. 

In one of those slowed-down time-warp instants I saw with utter clarity the driver’s face, looking at me with the open-mouthed certainty that he had just committed suicide. There was scant chance I could avoid hitting him. Braking would have been laughably futile. The only possible alternatives were the desert on the right or, across the oncoming lane, the desert on the left. I saw there was no opposing traffic, so I violently yanked the steering wheel left, clearing the front of the Subaru by what could only have been inches. On the edge of either sliding or rolling—I wasn’t sure which—I yanked the wheel the other way, corrected a violent yaw, and managed to keep the truck on the pavement in the oncoming emergency lane, where I slowed, checked traffic (the Subaru had fled—you're welcome, pal), and pulled across again to stop off the road and restart my heart.

I got out and checked the truck and camper. Everything seemed okay, so I continued home. But on the last rough dirt section I heard a faint but obvious rattle coming from the camper area. At home I investigated and found that one of the four turnbuckles securing the camper to the truck had split at the open hook. I’d been meaning to replace the stock, aluminum-bodied turnbuckles anyway, and took the opportunity to install forged steel replacements.

That seemed to be the end of the matter. However, several months later while washing the truck I noticed a split about two inches long in the camper’s aluminum skin, extending from the upper right corner of the front window, behind the truck’s rear window. Investigation revealed a similar split on the opposite side. Could the near miss have been the genesis of the splits? Difficult if not impossible to say, but it was a worrisome development.

I showed the splits to Tom Hanagan of FWC at Overland Expo EAST, who urged a factory visit to remove the skin and investigate the possibility of a cracked frame member or weld. So this Christmas we combined visit to see family on Coarsegold, California, with a trip to the Four Wheel Camper factory in Woodland. We took the opportunity to have a couple of upgrades done to the camper—the company is constantly evaluating current systems and components, looking for ways to improve the product.

As you can see, the splits would be easy to miss if you weren't paying attention. Between the time I noticed them and the time we got to FWC, they seemed to have remained more or less stable.

With the front skin removed, Tom Hanagan inspected the frame, but found no cracked welds or any other damage. He had only seen this issue a couple times previously, but nevertheless decided that further structural engineering might be worth investigating. So I went upstairs with Robin Pritchard, FWC's new engineer, and watched while she created a CAD image of the Four Wheel Camper's front frame structure. 

Once the virtual frame was assembled on screen, Robin applied a significant simulated side load. With no other structure or skin to reinforce the isolated frame, and the distortion effect magnified hundreds of times by the program, the graphic showed that the area of highest stress occurred . . . at the top corners of the window opening. 

Robin studied the image for a minute, then applied a simple boxed reinforcement on either side of the window opening with a few clicks of her mouse. Immediately the distortion was attenuated, and the angry red color that highlighted stresspoints cooled off to a benign yellow. Tom looked at the result, and rolled our camper over the the welding area of FWC's huge factory, where the fabricators welded in two channeled aluminum pieces on our frame. The entire process added perhaps six ounces to the weight of the camper.

With the reinforcements in place, Jay Bailey re-positioned the rigid foam insulation, and installed a new front skin.

Very soon the front of the camper looked new again. Despite the uncommon nature of this issue, Tom has incorporated the reinforcement into all new campers that have the forward dinette. He is also currently testing a new, forged turnbuckle that I think will be a significant improvement in the anchoring system.

Repairs completed, we had FWC install external roof-lifting struts on the front and rear of the camper. With only the single internal pair of struts, Roseann had trouble lifting the back of the roof when we set up the camper. She has no trouble with the external struts, and eliminating the internal pair cleaned up the interior appearance and added room on the bed. FWC also installed a new style table in the front dinette; with a simpler, stronger, and more elegant swivel.

Soon the camper was back on the Tacoma, looking visibly chuffed after its little spa facelift treatment. And I was chuffed after learning so much about the engineering that goes into a Four Wheel Camper.

Postscript. It's always fun to wander around the back wall of the FWC factory:

A custom Four Wheel Camper on a turbodiesel Mitsubishi Fuso chassis.

Hilux turbodiesel. 'Nuff said.

A better bungee

I’ll be honest: I’m not a huge fan of bungee cords. I find them vaguely inelegant, I don’t like the fact that you often can’t see wear or damage that will result in a break either while you’re attaching the strap, endangering your eyes, or while you’re on the road, possibly resulting in the loss of important equipment. I’ve also seen them used inappropriately far, far too often, up to and including being the sole pair of fasteners attaching a Hi-Lift jack crosswise to the top of a brush guard. Imagine the result if that vehicle were smartly rear-ended.

However, there’s no denying that bungees are ideal for many tasks for which ratchet straps would be either overkill, or ineffective. This applies especially when cinching down soft items such as duffels on roof racks, sleeping bags on the rear racks of motorcycles, soft luggage on top of rigid containers already ratcheted down in the cargo area, or similar situations. A ratchet used thusly can some loose as contents in the bag shift or compress, while a bungee automatically takes up the slack.

The problem is, bungee cords always seem to be either too short or too long. It’s some sort of immutable law of nature or something. Write me if you haven’t ever stretched a bungee to its limit and found it two inches shy of hooking where you need it.

Meet the LoopRope, a bungee system that allows nearly infinite length adjustment as well as variable tension.

Essentially the product comprises a continuous loop of high-quality bungee, in either a three- or five-foot unstretched length, with numerous immovable keepers that create a series of loops along the side. Each LoopRope also comes with two stainless clips. To use it on, say, a roof rack, you attach one end of the bungee to the rack with a secure girth knot (by simply looping the bungee through itself). Stretch the cord over your duffel, through another rail on the rack, and back on itself. Use the clip to stretch and attach the end to one of the loops. Done. Note that the LoopRope site advises eye protection, and warns that this is still a light-duty device, but the fastening system is far easier and more secure than those cheesy little hooks on most bungees, and the versatility raises it to a new level.

 The loops can also be used to create an impromptu cargo net if needed. And of course you can attach two or more LoopRopes end to end to create a longer system.

I originally agreed to review the LoopRope because the owner and developer emailed me with great enthusiasm after he read my review of the (complementary and equally clever) Lynx Hooks, and I felt I should give the product a chance. Now that I have two LoopRopes, I’m happy I do and I’m sure I’ll be using them regularly. It’s a clever and worthwhile upgrade from a standard bungee. In fact it’s almost elegant.

Find LoopRope here.

Death of a dopp kit

Is it weird to be sentimental about a minor piece of luggage?

After 15 years and . . . eight? nine? trips to Africa, plus countless other journeys, my old Hartmann leather dopp kit finally reached such a level of degradation as to spur Roseann to diplomatically hint it might be time for a new one. Zipper broken, plastic lining petrified and cracked, pervasive stains—I had to admit she had a point.

Sadly, Hartmann no longer offers this model. A bit of surfing landed me on a suitably sturdy-looking replacement from Filson, but before I got around to ordering it, Roseann took her diplomatic hint a step further—in the form of the exact kit I'd been looking at, as a Christmas present.

This afternoon I finally got around to swapping the contents. Procrastinating? Maybe. I then walked the old Hartmann out to the trash. The hand holding it hovered over the bin, then drew back. Maybe a photo before . . . ? Pathetic. So here it is.

The Microstart XP-10

Since I first reviewed the Micro-Start XP-1 kit (here), it has done nothing but continue to impress me. Besides seriously abusing it by setting up an in-the-field welding system using two additional units wired in series, I’ve started a giant 460-cubic-inch V8, and have demonstrated it numerous times. Yet it recharges quickly and holds its capacity for months with little loss. When asked about it I tend to gush uncharacteristically.

The only “failure” I experienced occurred when I tried to jump-start our old Mercedes 300D turbodiesel. The combination of amperage-hungry glow plugs and an 18:1 compression ratio finally defeated the XP-1—it groaned silently to a halt before the engine could catch. I put “failure” in quotes because that was expressly beyond the manufacturer’s design parameters and thus could hardly be considered the unit’s fault. (Antigravity Batteries also lists 400 cubic inches as the upper limit for starting gasoline engines, but I comfortably exceeded that.)

Recently the company sent me a new, larger unit called the XP-10. Still almost unbelievably lightweight (17 ounces compared to the XP-1’s 15), it’s claimed to be fully turbodiesel capable.

And indeed it proved so on the chilly 50-degree morning I tried it, first disconnecting the 300D’s battery cables, then hooking up the Micro-Start’s clamps. I turned the key, the glow-plug lamp came on and then went off, indicating readiness—and a farther turn of the key resulted in an immediate five-cylinder diesel rattle. 

It’s difficult to overstate how significantly the Micro-Start changes the safety dynamics of backcountry travel, particularly for solo travelers. In the past you either relied on a single battery for both starting and ancillaries, perhaps in conjunction with a low-voltage cutout, and basically prayed not to have a problem, or you went to the expense, complexity, and weight of a dual-battery system. With a Micro-Start along it’s like having a second (or third) starting battery in your coat pocket. Even if you rely on a single-battery system and it dies completely, once you jump with the Micro-Start the unit can be recharged via a cigarette lighter outlet while the vehicle is running, and be ready to work again in a couple hours. (In fact it can normally accomplish four or five starts in a row with no recharging at all if the engine is in good tune.) That should get you back safely and easily from the most remote stranding.

Jeez, I’m gushing again. Just get one.

Antigravity Batteries is here.