“Did the toilet work alright for you?” Andy asks from the bathroom. I can hear him messing with something in there.
“Yes,” I call out, having just come from there maybe 30 seconds before.
“Well, it’s not working now.”
When he went to flush the toilet, the pedal fell straight to the ground. Water still poured out but the “ball” that opens the toilet stayed motionless. Great.
It’s Tuesday, and I have the day off work (something out of the ordinary). Andy started pulling things apart to see what was going on. When he had an idea, he started making phone calls, trying to find the part — a spring kit of some kind.
“$76 and three weeks to receive it,” said one place.
“We don’t carry it,” said another.
We were starting to think we’d need a new toilet when Camping World confirmed they had the kit for $33. Score! We hopped into the car and headed up to Monticello, about 45 minutes away. It was a beautiful drive — the leaves are still changing colors and with the music blasting, it didn’t seem like such a bad way to spend my day off.
We arrived, grabbed the part, split some Jimmy John’s, and headed back to the RV.
“Shit,” I hear from the bathroom. The part doesn’t work. There is more broken — something is stripped. “Looks like we are getting a new toilet,” he says.
We weren’t looking to buy a new one, obviously. And we certainly weren’t looking to spend the amount that would get us the same quality we had in there (minimum $300). I told Andy to get a plastic one instead of a porcelain/china toilet, just to get us by.
He heads back up to Camping World, exchanges the piece for a new toilet, and comes back home.
“This is the only one they had in stock that’s not too tall,” he says, explaining that since our toilet sits on a carpeted pedestal, we have to buy a lower-profile toilet.
I hear thudding from the bathroom. Things are shifting around, but I can’t see what’s going on because of the tight space.
“You’re kidding me,” I hear. Andy comes out and tells me that the new toilet won’t work because the footing is different. Fantastic.
We decide to get dinner and drinks at a nearby bar and order a toilet online. We pick up a camping toilet from my parents’ house to use in the meantime; our old toilet sits mournfully in the shower.
We fail at finding a toilet online — in fact, we don’t even look. We have a good time at dinner and go to bed early. The bucket toilet is less than ideal.
The next day, Andy texts me at work and says, “I win!”
“I figured out how to make the new toilet work. When you get home tonight, I’ll install it.” It’s in the box in the back of my car, waiting to be returned.
That night, he installs the new toilet — the bucket goes outside.
And it works! We wait for something to go wrong, for a leak to happen or something. So far, so good. It is so white that it stands out from the rest of the RV — the sink and shower are both a cream color. But it works!
My biggest complaint…the foot pedal is on the wrong side. That’ll take some getting used to.
The tally of things we’ve replaced in the motorhome sure is stacking up. But that’s life in a motorhome for ya.