A drinking crowd with a VW problem

There are t-shirts of various places around the country that say - a drinking town with a here. I.E. "Breckenridge, a quaint little drinking town with a skiing problem". And "Portland - a quaint little drinking town with a Hipster problem". Our little camping group isn't full of drunks and/or alcoholics, but we like our wine and our beer. Occasionally, we like a cocktail. 

This year at George's Birthday party,  I tried my hand at cocktails. (George is John LaTorre's bus. See Here for more)

For those who prefer an easily made drink, we had other options.

And if drinking an adult beverage is not your think, there is always eating.

Or maybe you don't like the food we brought. Then I hope you have a sweet tooth.

What? You don't like cake? Or food? Or beer? or a cocktail? Then I have no idea why you are camping with us... perhaps you just like to sing.

Or maybe traveling around is your thing

Here's the thing about us... we are an "all of the above" kind of crowd. We don't really care if you bus is new or newer.

Old or older.

Or just weird.

We want to camp, preferably with you. Bring Wine, bring wood. Drive, camp, be well.

Random Camp trip - because we can

The bus is a spontaneous vehicle. It's not a surprise (to me anyway) that Outside Magazine called it the greatest vehicle ever made. They may have been referring to the Syncro exclusively, but I'm rolling mine into the pile.

So when some of the crew asked me to join them at a random campout, and it was both cheap and on a free weekend, I didn't pass it up.

Lake Pardee, Ca. Also known as lake party in the summer. It wasn't summer yet.

Blake and Shelby are perpetually adorable.

The turkey vultures like to wait until it's warm before foraging.

But the turkeys will forage whenever they want.

I decided to try and take some pictures that I could submit for the GoWesty calendar.

Where the hell have I been?

Certainly not here. I've been focused on other projects to do much blog updates, or many VW adventures. It's been a weird year so far. So rather than spending too much time apologizing, let's just get to work. Feel free to chastise me in the comments.


Del Valle!

Outside of Livermore is a small regional park. It has a man-made reservoir and several circles for car camping. Our group likes to use it for short weekend campouts - it's close, yet just far enough. This was a good excuse for me to bust out the Tent of Awesome.

It was spring, green, and there were plenty of pretty things to walk around and look at.

Some of that walking could be done with very short legs.

And if walking isn't your style, there is always keeping warm and drinking a beer.

For your consideration, a 40 year difference study. As much as I love mine, I fully understand the appeal of  air conditioning and modern amenities. I suspect if I had a kid, I would look at my car a little differently. But since I don't, I'm preferable to the older design.

Here's another study of two different packing methods.

Modern:

Vintage:

As usual with my VW camping crew, it was a mellow assembly, excellent food, and camping fire happiness.

This is why I'm broke

A friend sent me this:
http://www.thisiswhyimbroke.com/volkswagen-bus-camping-tent

For that many simoleans, you can buy an original tent.

I take issue with the description line "It’s the ultimate outdoor hippie experience." Some the the people who read this blog WERE at woodstock, and did "the ultimate outdoor hippie experience" in that they don't remember it. :)

If you want some much better hippie busses, Tumblr will deliver.

101 posts

This is my 101st post. From a blogging standpoint, that's not that many. I started posting on this blog in April of 2009, after spending five months in Canada.

Since then I've:
- been on 26 group campouts, and 6 solo campouts.
- driven about 32000 miles


Much of this blog is linked to my flickr account which has it's own ranking - obviously pictures of cosplay chics at comiccon are the highest ranked. Everyone loves slave Leia.

But on the VW side, my most popular pics are this one:

Apparently everyone wants to know what those original rubber mounts looked like.

This one:


I'm sure this is due to a samba thread that discusses refinishing a pop top.

and this one consecutively.

(I'm sure its for the same reason.)


In the past five years, I have:
Replaced the engine.
Redone the entire brake system.
Recut the most of the wood panels.
Refinished the fiberglass top.
Replaced the canvas.
Recovered the front seats.
Built an outside-the-bus table.
Replaced the clutch.
Rewelded the passenger side shock absorber mount.

I've driven the bus through six western states. I say western because, let's face it, eastern states are just not that large.

During each drive, locally and far away, I lose count of the number of smiles, peace signs, "lookitthat"s, "nice bus", and "I used to have one- I never should have sold it"s.

I had three offers for purchase left on my windshield, and two "Wow your bus is really nice be good it it" notes. My favorite one was found in Yosemite while I was out hiking.

It occurs to me that I haven't posted enough, or driven enough. Time to fix that.

Happy driving.

Mark Merrill's Museum Redux

Mark Merrill is really a nice guy.  He helped build a ridiculously successful company and he has a strange compulsion for vintage VW's.

During the annual Aircooled parts Treffen, the garage got opened (again) to the public, and Mark provided coffee, donuts and fruit (yeah, we are Californians, there is always fruit) to everyone while the wandered through his wonder.

I've talked about his garage before.
Post 1
Post 2
and Post 3

I rode on the coattails of the Treffen to joing them for another round at the VW house of dreams.
I forgot my camera. So these are iphone pics.

The fireengine water pump is, of course, another vw engine.



I have a thing for teardrop trailers. This one especially.



This is a cutaway model to show people how the engine works. It has an eletrically powered slow movement so you can watch the cylinders and valves all move in time with each other.




Pretty.


The garage space is enviable.



One of the treffen drivers had this beauty behind it. I wonder how well it did going over some of the hills.



And there was this beauty.



Next time I head down there I'll take more detail pictures. In the meantime, feel free to read this post.

Or watch this video.

Cross Country - A road trip, Day five.

It's 2:00pm and I'm waking up with what can only be described as a hangover without the fun night. I'm groggy, and as I'm looking around a crappy-ass hotel room. I stagger to the shower. At least the water is hot.

That brick in the industrial strength paper is not soap. It looks like soap, but it's not. I have some soap in my bag from a previous hotel. Yeah, I steal hotel soap. Who doesn't?

The towel is made of sandpaper. I step onto the other towel - my clean feet don't want to touch the dirty floor. I ask myself why I care. My feet respond and say "did you see the floor?" They have a point.

I'm out the door, I get some coffee and I say goodbye to the worlds worst/dirtiest/unsanitary hotel. At least I have a story that needs no embellishing.

I haven't seen this part of Virginia since I was 13. We lived outside of D.C. when I was much younger, and we drove through here when we moved to Hawaii. Being young and impatient, I didn't have any appreciation for the hills, the old fences, the slow rivers, the historic brick houses. It's a beautiful part of the state that claims it's for lovers. At least, that's what the bumper stickers tell me.

My camera is next to me, but there is too much traffic to try using it. So, today's part is both uneventful and lacking in pictures.

I reach Mt. Jackson, VA around 4:30 and reach the Capital beltway around 7:30 - just outside of rush hour. Anyone who lives out there knows that this was excellent timing.


I pull into the apartment around 8:30. And collapse.


Stats:

5 Days
3000 miles (plus or minus)
9 states
Average price of gas was $3.39/gallon
The mileage was am embarrassing 13.96, but if you have an old landcruiser, you would recognize that this is actually pretty good -they average around 11.

I've done long road trips in a Honda Accord, on a BMW 1150 GS, on another motorcycle (Honda Shadow) in the Landcruiser, in a Penske truck, in a Chrysler Van, a Ford Station Wagon, and of course, in a red VW Bus. This is my first time on the southern route across country. I've been across 80 twice, coast to coast, but was too young to leave a mark on my life.

Each road trip contains lessons, meditations, moments of inspiration and epiphany. I spent most of this trip looking for the beauty and rhythm of the land and location. The long spaces in between my fuel stops were opportunities reflect everything, and one thing I couldn't help but notice still sticks. The mythology that we have created in films, books, shows, poetry, song. It's a mythology that hasn't far off from fact, but it's fading. The small towns are dry. The paint is fading, and the roads need repair. You can taste the effects of time and neglect.

It's a long and beautiful road, but it is much shorter than we think.

“But why think about that when all the golden lands ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you're alive to see?”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road 

Cross Country - A road trip, Day four.

 July 24. It's my fourth day on the road and I'm up early. It's my intention to make it half way across Tennessee, so I'm out the door at 4:45. Pictures were lacking this day, apologies.

This sign confuses me. Is the lack of tolerance referring to the speed laws, the strict enforcement, or is this a protest sign that is saying that there is no tolerance for speed laws being strictly enforced? Or am I just reading into this too much?


Oklahoma City is the last place I'll hear about on the Route 66 song.  It's time for a change of tune, and this time, I'm Walking in Memphis.


I'm walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale.



And as long as I'm at it, I'm listening to "Oh Mississippi" by Lissie.



Memphis Barbecue is legendary. For a reason. Yum.

And I'm back on the road at (time).

This is the last phot I take at 6:00pm, I think I was just outside of Nashville.


Right around now is when I start making a series of questionable decisions. It's getting late, and I keep thinking "I'll pull over at the next town." And the next one. And the next one. And those towns start getting farther and farther away from each other.
Knoxville promises live music and excellent beer, and in my somewhat tired state, I ignore that siren song too.
And that's when the thunderstorm hits and I can no longer see the signs for towns. It's a serious thunderstorm with heavy drops and wipers on full steam and pitch black everything. I'm driving at about 30 mph going up the hills and missing an awful lot of beauty. Thought the constant thunder and lightning has it's own appeal.
It's around midnight (I think... it might be later)  and I'm seriously looking for a place to sleep when I reach a bridge outside of Kingsport, near the Virginia border. There's a bridge over a river, and I'm driving like an out-of-state-person in a heavy vehicle with wide tires in a rain storm. Slow and Conservative. The truck that decides to pass me at hydroplane speed does so with the requisite aggressive wheel jerk to demonstrate his displeasure that he had to go through the effort of turning his wheel.

The car breaks loose, and does a full 360 in front of me while heading for the right side rail. My foot is off the gas pedal and moving the to break pedal. He somehow recovers and does a 360 in the opposite direction heading for the left side rail. His unsecured contents in the bed of the truck have launched themselves into the road and are bouncing around me. I'm still slowing down, foot not on the brake yet - I'm hoping I don't have to risk breaking traction. Again, he misses the guard rail and is not fishtail recovering toward the side of the road. I'm pulling to the far right in case he decides to do something even more stupid. I pass at about 10 miles an hour and he finally stops as my eyes are now wide open.

Well, I'm awake now. The adrenaline kicks in about five minutes later and I shake it off as best I can, but now I don't think I'm getting any sleep. So I keep driving until it wears off.

And it does eventually, but what I see is some color and brightness on the horizon. I've driven through the night without realizing it.

Damn. Now my body is really tired and demands sleep. Roanoke is 10 miles away, so I pull over once I reach town and look for any vacancy. It's orientation weekend at the University, there are no hotels available except the worst pile of a hotel. Ever. I walk in and ask for a room for half a day, they say they have a room in back. I take it.

I ignore the filth, the dirty rug, the sink that looks like the one I had in my college dorm, the sheets that smell like they were cleaned with Febreeze. I'm exhausted and I chalk this night up to my own hubris. Good night.


1,115 miles. It's a personal record for the day (at least, in an enclosed car.) I left at 5:00 am and arrived at the hotel around 7:00. 25 hours of driving with one time zone crossing. That's about one-third of the country in one day.

I'll take it, and I'll wake up in about six hours.

Cross Country - A road trip, Day three

It's my third day on the road, I'm in Texas. Tinted windows on the room keep me from waking too early, but it is still already hot out there.

Today's drive is going to be short, I'm supposed to meet a friend in Oklahoma City. I'm expected to go 260 miles today, so I have some time to enjoy the road.

On the outside edge of Amarillo is the America Quarter Horse Museum. I stopped by to take pictures but didn't spend time inside.







Last night I drove by "world famous" Cadillac ranch. I didn't see it, it was dark. But on the east side of Amarillo is the red-headed step child of the Cadillacs - Bug Ranch. It's in the non-existent town of Conway, Tx. I say non-existent because aside from Bug ranch, and a dead service station, there is nothing there. It's not even listed on google maps.



This service station could have been abandoned in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. For all I can tell, it was.





Curiosity gets the better of me and I walk inside. What wasn't of interest to anyone was left on the shelves of the abandoned store. Stickers, out of date pepto bismol tablets, paper.



I "liberate" a couple of those window stickers that say Moab, Bryce Canyon, Pikes Peak, and Devils Tower, and other places I've been. I may be a thief, but I'm not going to lie about where I've been.

One last look at the service station and the ranch and I'm back on the road.





The film has changed from "Cars" to "Walking Dead". Water towers were tilted.

f

Ominous symbols were seen on the side of the road.


I decide to pull on to Route 66 proper and change the scene a little. Fortunately, Tow Mater (or his distant cousin) was there to swap the reel.



McLean has a little bit of history apparently.



I couldn't pass up a stop at the Devil's Rope Museum.



There were Burma Shave signs, and various Route 66 memorabilia inside. But most importantly, every variation of barbed wire that has ever been made was there for your inspection.



That case is one of at least 20.
 I now know more about barbed wire that I have ever thought possible. It's time to get back on the road.

I almost miss the sign.



Weatherford OK. Childhood home of General Thomas Stafford.  Wikipedia link for your perusal. Also the home of his museum. Imagine for a moment that you were at the Air and Space museum in D.C. and one of the docents asked if you wanted to see the "stuff in the attic". And you say "Hell yeah!" That's what this museum has - all the stuff the Air and Space museum thought wasn't ready for prime time, but is still interesting enough to display somewhere.

Like this thing:


Ever see Apollo 13? That is the connector that Kevin bacon had to line up to dock the two space modules together. It's much smaller than you would think - especially since the lives of everyone on board are dependent on this small device. I spend a moment drawing a parallel between this tiny thing and all the tiny parts on my bus and how important they are to keep running. The difference of course, is that I am not driving in a sub-zero vacuum that would instantly cause my blood to burst from my skin during rapid depressurization. My largest concern would be the battery life on my cell phone. Crisis is all about scale.

There is a ready-to-go Saturn 5 rocket. There's a Soviet Mig. The cockpit holds one.



I've had enough stops for the day. I head to Oklahoma City and find a Best Western with a big parking lot. Everyone is in the pool, I can't blame them. I visit with my friend over dinner and head back to the hotel. Sleep feels good, I plan on leaving early the next morning.