You’ve heard of Area 51, the legendary hyper-secret facility located somewhere in the remote New Mexico desert, where the government is allegedly working on alien spaceships. Enter at your own risk. Deadly force is authorized to keep you out. That’s what the signs say.
Well, in the rural town of Coburg, Oregon, there’s a place called Plant 17. Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn’t exactly Area 51. For one thing, everybody knows exactly what goes on in Plant 17, a portion of which is dedicated to the production of Safari coaches. No big secrets here. In fact, you can actually take a tour and see it all up close and personal. But until you have an opportunity to see it first-hand, we want to take you on Safari through Plant 17, in the pages of this magazine.
Actually, the Safari operation consumes only a share of the 560,000 square-foot facility known as Plant 17. Also built here are some of Monaco’s and Holiday Rambler’s coaches and towables. But when you arrive at the lobby of the Monaco Coach Corporation headquarters, you can sign up for a tour specific to the Safari production line. If you’re a new buyer, you may be able to watch your very own coach being built, as it makes its way step-by-step through the whole fascinating process.
"...until you have an opportunity to see it first-hand, we want to take you through Plant 17, in the pages of this magazine."(Safari Adventures)
In the lobby, you’ll meet your tour guide. These guides are amazing, because they are virtual wellsprings of knowledge about Safari design, engineering and production. On a recent tour I took, a lovely young lady named Jennifer Devine made sure we were all outfitted with protective eye wear, and then we headed out for a 90-minute expedition.
Wear some good walking shoes when you come, because you’ll be covering some ground. Our journey began by strolling the length of one of Monaco’s production lines that adjoins the main headquarters building, then out across a wide paved expanse between a cluster of other enormous production buildings. We hung a right and walked a couple hundred yards, with Plant 17 stretching across the horizon ahead.
It turns out that Jennifer has worked for Safari for more than six years, and she began on the production line, so she knows whereof she speaks. As we crossed the property, she knew just which door to head for, and soon we were inside a building that could easily house the town where I grew up.
"...You may be able to watch your very own coach being built, as it makes its way... through the whole fascinating process."
The first stop inside the plant was the welding department, where we watched raw aircraft-grade aluminum tubing become welded wall frameworks for Safari coaches. Tourists are protected by curtains of yellow plastic material that blocks the damaging bright light of the welders, so there’s no danger to eyes or exposed skin.
It was in the welding area that it hit me – the magic that happens in Plant 17 is that raw materials come together piece-by-piece under the influence of gifted craftsmen and, over the course of many days, a luxurious motorhome emerges from the pile of components.
As they are finished, the aluminum wall frames are taken to gigantic tables, where they will be combined with all the other components that go into the final construction of the coach’s exterior walls. Each sidewall is built for a specific coach. In fact, the walls are tagged with identifying codes, so they travel through the entire production process without getting misdirected.
On the table, an aluminum exterior skin is laid down first, where it receives a dose of cold-cure glue. Then a luaun backer is placed over the aluminum sheet, and more glue is applied. Then comes the wall framework. As you might imagine, these components are huge, and unwieldy, so everything is carefully handled by overhead cranes. And the glue is applied by a machine that lays it down in evenly-spaced lines about an inch apart. Next, the openings between the wall framework are filled with insulating Styrofoam blocks called beadboard. This is one of the primary insulating layers that make up the wall structures. Glue is again spread on the beadboard, and the decorative luaun paneling that becomes the interior wall covering is put in place.
"Plant 17... raw materials come together piece-by-piece under the influence of gifted craftsmen..."
Once the wall sandwich is completed, a heavy rubber sheet is pulled over the table, and is sealed down all around the edges. A hose is attached to the table, and vacuum pressure is applied to literally suck all the components into enormously tight physical contact with each other while the glue cures. This process is known as laminating or vacuum bonding. When it is finished, all the components in the walls are so solidly bonded together that they can no longer be thought of as individual pieces, but are simply part of the whole. The final step at this stage is to cut out the openings for doors and windows.
A few steps from the vacuum bonding tables is the area where the fiberglass front and rear caps are prepared. These caps are actually manufactured off-site at another facility, then are shipped to Plant 17 for the finish work. We paused to admire one of the beautiful and distinctive murals that are trademarks of the Safari coaches. This particular one was of a white tiger, and Jennifer pointed out the hidden images that are part of artist Jerry Dame’s technique. These murals are really a family affair, created by Jerry, the patriarch of the Dame family, and his two sons, Jerry Jr. and Dennis. Each is a unique piece of artwork, delicately hand-painted with airbrushes, and each is autographed by the artist.
In the prep area, the end caps receive all the necessary lights and harness pigtails. Windshields are installed, and wiper motors and blades take their appropriate positions.
Next, we moved down the line to the area where the floors are constructed. Aircraft-grade aluminum tubing is employed for the framework, and solid foam blocks are cut and fitted into all the spaces. Much like the walls, these floors are vacuum bonded, with luaun layers both top and bottom, and a hefty Structurwood subfloor on the upper surface. All this is glued and laminated, forming a rigid floor that is solid underfoot. Later on, the underside of the floor will receive a layer of Darco to create a vapor barrier underlayment.
"...That's right - every Safari is personally road tested..."
The tour continued, as we passed through the roof production area. This gave us a perfect opportunity to see how the framework, insulation layers, and other structural components are assembled. Safari coaches are built with house wiring harnesses running through the ceiling. Channels are formed through the structure and insulation to accommodate the harnesses, with smaller bundles of wires exiting the main harness here and there to run to a ceiling fan or light or to the roof air units. It is all very neat and organized. A soft, fuzzy carpeting of Ozite covers the ceiling, glued in place to form an attractive acoustical surface.
By now, everyone on the tour had a much better idea of how a Safari coach is built. But the best was yet to come. Now it was time for all the various parts and pieces to come together to start making a motorhome.
Standing at the ready was a line of Magnum chassis, prepared to serve as the foundation for the Safari coachwork. The chassis were receiving final detailing – house batteries were installed on slideout trays, the Onan generator found its perch between the front frame rails, the service and utility bay was installed to make drivetrain service easy and shore hook-up a piece of cake.
Farther down the line, the bonded floor units are lowered into place and bolted firmly to the chassis. Floor coverings are installed next, and then the pre-made cabinets are moved into position. The rear wall is erected, and then the sidewalls are lowered by crane and bolted along the edges of the chassis outriggers. Later on, the welders will come along and weld things together, so the coachwork is not held to the chassis by bolts alone. One of the impressive things was to see how the wall sandwiches are sealed along every exposed edge, to prevent moisture from sneaking in between the bonded layers.
Right about here is where some serious systems testing begins. Plumbing is installed and then pressure tested. All along the assembly line, from this point forward, quality assurance people are at work to ensure that everything is as it should be before the coach gets totally buttoned up.
Then suddenly, it’s time to put a roof over everything. An overhead crane glides the roof unit over the top of the coach, and lowers it into place. Because the roof structure is where the house electrical harnesses are run, the next natural phase is to extend the wiring to its final destinations, hook everything up and perform tests.
Off to one side, we saw the dashboard prep area. Safari used to hand-stitch all their dashboard covers, but is now moving toward vacuum-formed upholstery, because it is so precise and quick. During our tour we saw some specialized upholstery work being done on the Electro-Majic beds that go into the Trek models.
"Just when I was beginning to feel like part of the production crew, it was time to head back to the lobby."
Before we knew it, we were watching the front and rear end caps being installed, and the coaches were beginning to take on a nearly finished appearance. Standing by, though, were slide-out rooms, ready to fill the holes in the coach sidewalls. Before installation in the coach, the slideout rooms are completely finished with windows, cabinetry, furniture, carpeting and whatever else is going to reside there. Then the slideouts are installed and the plumbing and electrical systems tested.
With the slideouts in place, the production personnel went to work installing all the cargo compartment hardware and doors, then checking to see that the storage bays are completely sealed against incursion of moisture and dust. It was at this point that we were treated to a close inspection of the coach’s electrical bay, a compartment that serves as a junction box where all the wiring meets up with fuse panels and other esoteric electrical stuff. The amazing thing was to see that each wire was individually labeled as to function and destination. This is a wonderful feature that would make it much easier to track down an electrical problem.
A few feet farther down the production line, we stepped up into a nearly completed coach. Workers inside were busy inspecting and testing – looking for and correcting any flaws, either cosmetic or functional. Taped to the outside of the coach was an extensive checklist, so nothing would be overlooked at this point in the quality assurance process.
This brought us to the end of what is termed the "white line" of Safari production. I assumed this meant that the next step in the coach’s life would be a visit to the paint shop. I also recognized that we had returned to the same door where we had entered Plant 17 about an hour earlier.
From here on, every Safari coach pays a visit to other buildings, where chassis undercoating is applied, then what I call the "Monsoon Test" is performed to check for water leaks under conditions that would make Noah cringe. From there, it’s on to the paint shop, where more magic is performed. And then it’s on to the PDI (pre-delivery inspection) phase. This is where every square inch, inside and outside, is scrutinized and every blemish or defect is corrected in the final prep stage.
At the end of the line, each coach is realigned (having already been initially aligned when the chassis was built) prior to a road test. That’s right – every Safari is personally road tested to make certain that it drives as nice as it looks. The whole process, from beginning to end, is executed so that every Safari owner can rest assured that the coach is as perfect as possible.
At the end of the tour, Jennifer led us back outside where we were able to climb aboard a number of different Safari models. It gave us a chance to visually taste a variety of color schemes and decorator options. What a treat! And then, suddenly, the tour was over. Just when I was beginning to feel like part of the production crew, it was time to head back to the lobby and turn in the protective eyewear.
But, there was nothing to fret about. Another tour was scheduled to begin a few hours later. And, you know what? I signed up for a second go-round.
Rich Johnson is a freelance writer based in the Pacific Northwest. Rich has over 23 years experience as a professional editor with several automotive and RV publications, including TrailerLife and MotorHome. |
