The Princess and the Ploughman (Post #145)

Not afraid of heights. The VW on top of Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park, Washington state.

In 1973 war broke out in the Middle East. It really got my attention because the price of gas in the US—when you could find it—went from about 29 cents per gallon, to a panic-inducing 55 cents a gallon. At the time, I was driving a 1967 Mustang with a big V8 engine, not the most fuel-efficient vehicle on the planet. My father, always a glass is half-empty kind of guy, correctly concluded that the price of gas was going to continue to increase and encouraged me to get rid of the Mustang and acquire something more economical. Things did look pretty gloomy so I went car shopping. After paying the princely sum of about $4,000, I became the owner of a new, jaunty, blue and white 1973 VW “bay window” microbus/van/transporter. I wish I could explain why I ended up with that instead of a real car but whatever the logic was at the time, it is long forgotten now. 

Kor Smit, a hitchhiker we picked up outside Devil's Tower
Wyoming who rode with us all the way to Fairbanks. We
corresponded for many years afterward.  Anyone out
there know him?  Last known address was BARK 15, 9606
Kropswolde, Netherlands.

A few weeks later, the VW, a friend and I were on a road trip, the first of many.  The rather vague destination was Fairbanks, Alaska, 4,238.3 miles from the starting point in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. For you Europeans, that is pretty close to the distance from Chapel Hill to Milano all the way across the Atlantic Ocean and halfway across the Mediterranean. It actually turned out to be almost twice that distance because due to side trips and meanderings.

Passing through Tennessee one winter the VW and I were 
caught in an ice storm that encased him in hundreds 
of pounds of ice.  The passenger side windshield wiper 
broke off under the strain.

A few days into the trip we picked up Kor Smit, a Dutch hitchhiker.  He inspired us to relax the itinerary, to be more spontaneous, more adventurous, and to take time to meet people along the way instead of just racing to a destination. As soon as we started doing that, things got better.

On-the-road repairs like tightening the bolts on the CV
joints in a campsite in the Wind River Range were 
sometimes inconvenient, but ample ground clearance 
meant you didn't need a lift!

Among its many virtues, the VW displayed a talent for creating impressionistic artwork
such as this "landscape" that appeared on the sliding side door during a trip to Big Bend National Park in Texas.  A hybrid style somewhere between Claude Monet and Georgia O'Keef?  Photo by Bob Adams.

During the almost two months it took, the VW and I bonded, and 35 years later it is still in my garage. It changed my appreciation for what a car can mean. The VW wasn’t about looking good, going fast, or getting to a certain destination as rapidly as possible. It was about having experiences. When we finally made it to Fairbanks, it was kind of a let-down. Not much to see, not much to do. Actually, we couldn’t wait to hit the road again!  The memorable part was the journey, the people we met, the things we saw and did along the way, not the destination! 

One of those trips stands out in my memory because of how intimately it involved the three of us: me, the VW, and The Alfatross. It was in 1979 when the VW was 6 years old and already on its second engine. It wasn't just another road trip. It was do or die time. I was moving to Texas and if The Alfatross was going to survive, she had to come with us. There was no alternative. With 1.7 liter air-cooled engines boasting all of 67 HP VW microbuses were not built for towing, and 1955 Alfa 1900C SSZs were not built to be towed. It was a gamble, but it paid off, and the humble VW ploughman became the princess' hero. They spent the next 3 decades together, sharing the various garages and driveways where I lived as equals. Now she dominates The Shed, preening as her restoration is nearing completion while the ploughman who saved her is relegated to secondary storage space in The Shedlet.  

The VW is not a collector car by any measure and I certainly have no intention of restoring him to like-new condition. But I am going to keep him. After The Alfatross leaves us to take her rightful place among automotive royalty, I intend to muster the energy and find the time to get him back on the road.  Who knows, maybe we still have an adventure or two still left in us . . . .

The Princess and the Ploughman prepare to leave the safety of Hendersonville, North Carolina for the trip to College Station, Texas, 1,201 miles away.