Monday, September 3, 2012

Maiden Voyage

With training complete and the hot August sun beating down, it was time to hook up the Majestic to the Tow Beast and make the 900 miles back across the heartland from Junction City, KS to Cumming, GA.

Although I have towed longer and heavier loads when I was pulling a monstrous combine behind a grain truck through OK, TX and CO back in the mid-70's, I was still nervous about being three feet longer and more than 5,000 lbs heavier than what I was accustomed to for the last ten years.  The Tow Beast is easily rated for these loads but I will now be closer to the maximum ratings than ever before.  It is going to be interesting to see how it feels different in terms of the ride and accelerating/braking and just how big of a hit on fuel economy there is going to be.

The Majestic's ride profile is quite different from the Kountry Star.  First, of course, is the extra length.  But the biggest difference is that the Majestic is a lot lower to the ground.  With the Kountry Star I rarely had to worry about dragging the rear-end when entering or exiting steep driveways.  And getting high-centered going over raised railroad tracks was never a concern.  Not so with the Majestic, this thing is going to require me to pay attention to things like that now.  In fact, I used the skid rollers on the back of the rig within the first 500 feet of towing.  The driveway at the factory's front entrance was pretty steep and the big, steel rollers welded to the frame engaged the driveway for about two feet.


A short jog down the access road, pass in front of Ekrich Farms packing plant (they were smoking sausage on this day, smelled great) and up the ramp to I-70 East.  Accelerated to cruising speed, it was a lttle slower getting there than with the old rig.  The next several hours to Kansas City were comfortable and easy.  While this part of  I-70 traverses flat and almost featureless terrain, it does not provide much of a proving ground to assess how well the towing combination works.  But first impressions are that I am getting a smoother ride.  It is probably a combination of the extra weight and triple-axle MorRyde suspension on the trailer.

Just on the East side of Kansas City it is time to stop for a bio-break.  I found a trucker-friendly place and wheeled into one of their extra-long, pull-thru parking spots.  A guy in a Dodge dually pick-up followed me in and pulled around along-side me and rolled down the window; "Is that thing yours?" he said.

He then proceeded to ask one question after another and eventually got out of his truck and started walking around the rig and getting down and looking under it.  By the time we were done talking, I think he was going to head straight over to Junction City and talk to the New Horizons folks.

At first I thought this one guy would be a unique experience, but over the rest of this day and the next I was contacted on the CB and when stopped getting fuel I would be approached by truckers to say something about the rig.  Normally I never transmit on the CB, I just listen for alerts about road conditions.  But this trip had me being pretty talkative on the radio keeping up with the call-outs.

 

While I was stopped, talking to the first guy in the Dodge, I snapped a picture of the rig in its full travel mode.  I have since showed it around to friends, and those that are familiar with my truck have accused me of photo-shopping the picture to make my truck look small.  But this is no photo-shop job, it really does look that small when it is hooked up to the Majestic.

Click to Enlarge
Just like my trip to KS, I drove far enough into the evening for the temperature to drop so that it would be comfortable without needing an air conditioner.  I pulled into a Flying J truck stop in Kentucky and wound my way into the back where at least hundred commercial big-rigs had already pulled in for the night.  There were no marked parking spots left so I pulled in behind another late arriver, 18-wheeler and shut the motor off for the first time in more than 10 hours.

Parking was really tight, so there was no extending any of the slides.  I opened the vents and turned on a ceiling fan, fell into bed and was asleep in seconds.  What seemed like seconds later was a banging on my door.  One of the trucks parked directly across from me was getting an early (4:00am early) start and he was having trouble getting clear of his parking spot without coming in contact with my rig.  The banging startled me, I jumped up, put on my pants and threw on my shirt and went to the door to see what all the fuss was about.  But by the time I got there the trucker had manuvered his way out of his slot and was just pulling away as I stepped around the back of my trailer.

I went back in the trailer washed up, brushed my teeth, tried to comb my hair but gave up and just stuck a hat on.  I might as well get an early start too.  By 4:30am I too was pulling out on the highway and getting in some good distance before the sun, and temperature, rose.

By morning rush hour I was passing through Nashville.  Traffic was pretty easy and a couple of hours later I was approaching Chattanooga, and its mountain pass.  First it was the long climb to the summit, I was slow but not the slowest.  I passed several 18-wheeler rigs on the way to the top.  Not bad.  But now came the real test, I was about to find out whether I was going to get my money's worth out of those three axels and their disc brakes as I made the long, steep descent into Chattanooga.

Perfect!  I did not have to use one of the runaway truck ramps on the way down once.  The weight of the rig would push the speed up even with the engine brake full-on.  But just a brief stepping on the brake would pull the speed down.  This cycle would be repeated every few thousand feet and I never got to the point of seeing my knuckles turn white.  Looks like it is a good set-up.

A couple hours later I turned off of I-75 onto GA 20 and started winding my across the top of Georgia.  It is a narrow, two-lane road that undulates across southern part of the North Georgia mountains.  I manuevered through a couple of small towns until I pulled into the edge of my small town.  Wow!  Somebody has a problem, I smell brakes burning.  Was it that empty flatbed 18-wheeler in front of me?  About that time a guy pulls up along side me, rolls down the window and says; "Your brakes are smoking."  Aw, crap.

I pulled over the first place that was big enough to hold me and got out to have a look-see.  Couldn't believe it, I drove 900 miles without a hint of a problem and within two miles of home I nearly have a brake fire.  I used my IR temperature gauge and the temperature of the center, passenger side disc was almost 500°.  All the others were measuring about 230°.  Since it had been quite awhile since I dropped down to town speed I am pretty sure that these temps were considerably lower than the temperature that caused them to smoke.  I was within a mile of home so I decided to go ahead and slowly limp in.  There is an old rig to move out of and a new one to move into before the sun goes down.  I'll deal with the brakes later.