Krusty, that was well told. You need to pick up another bottle of Cabernet for further reflections.
Krusty wrote:
Edited to add - Geezzz, I really rambled on this time. Blame it on the cabernet. If you read the thread this far you get what you deserve.
Edited to add – Blame it on the Loose Cannon IPA’s. And Krusty, and fond memories.
We did two long coast-to-coast cross country trips in the ’67 bus, one four weeks long, one six weeks (followed by a dozen+ trips in pick-up trucks with caps). I have no tales to match Krusty’s Big Sur experiences, or at least none suitable for a public forum, but I wouldn’t trade those bus travel days for anything. There were, and still are, peculiar delights to put-puttting along at 60 mph tops, navigating back roads with nothing but a State road map.
Those 1970’s VW bus trips were where I learned how to live dirt cheap on the road. No paid campsites, just hit National Forest or BLM lands, make every dirt road right hand turn until the road ends and camp there overnight (or longer). Ain’t nobody coming to look.
No restaurant meals (except the occasional “Lumberjack” or “Trailboss” Diner breakfast special. That immense pile of cheap calories will keep you going all damn day). Otherwise, yer getting hungry?, stop at a scenic pull off and cook something.
Not much interesting left to see east of the Mississippi? Keep driving non-stop. Never had a “paid” shower on those trips, just jump in the glacial runoff stream with a bottle of Dr. Bronnner’s and hope your nuts descend again eventually. I later discovered that, if you park outside a State Park gate and wander in through the woods with binoculars and a bird book, carrying soap, towel and clean clothes in a day pack, no one will ever be the wiser.
Not much comfort in that crude bus seat? Before my driving shifts I would line the seat and the door edge with foam sleeping pads. So much better, enough that one “I’m still good” driving shift stretched for 25 hours (Albuquerque to New Orleans; my companions both had girlfriends waiting for them in NO, and wanted to save their strength).
I replicated that same thing with glued on minicel pads where knees/legs touch the Tacoma door and console.
https://www.canoetripping.net/forums/fo ... ee-bumpersIt’s a little touch, but so much more comfortable on long drives, especially feet-off, splayed leg cruise control travels.
On long night stretches of straight deserted road, when my companions were both asleep in the back of the bus, I would occasionally shift over into the front passenger seat, with my left foot on the accelerator and left hand on the steering wheel, for a refreshing change of perspective. Felt weird at first, but I quickly got used to it, and was ready to drive in England, Ireland, India, or the colonies
I learned how to drive gently, don’t-want-to-wake-up the next shift driver with bus, driving as near an empty gas tank as possible before stopping to fill up.
Towards that non-stop end – and getting a little specific weird here - the plastic jug hospital urinals are the best thing ever, at least for a long-shift male driver. The angled throat and handle are seated driver-perfect, and the snap-on cap handy when there’s someone catching up from behind and it’s not time to slow down to 30mph and no splash/spray pour the contents out the window held arms length low
https://www.vitalitymedical.com/mckesso ... kEEALw_wcBClean urinal jugs are also fantastic for decanting keg tapped beer; with the first few taps, when it comes out 50% foam, the angled throat pours only liquid, no foam.
Or, you know, so I’ve been told. I haven’t been to a keg party in years, but still keep one in the tripping truck.
“Refreshing” is important on long night shift drives. I learned how to do pre-dawn ablutions while driving the bus. First, lay out everything from the toiletry kit on the dash. Next, wait for some straight, empty stretch of roadway, stick your head out the window and douse your head with some splashed canteen water. Back inside, Bronner’s lather up, back out the window for a 60 mph canteen splash rinse.
Hey look, there’s my toothbrush and tooth paste on the dash; that one is out the window patooie easier. A drop of Visine in each eye was only a little trickier. Comb my freshly washed hair and beard, maybe some Chapstick in the dry desert air and I was a new man, good for a few more hours.
I still do some of that out the window ablution on long-drive solo trips, and it is still awakening refreshing as hell.
That bus may have been a crude pile of tin that perched the driver like an Aztec sacrifice, with no collision protection, knees inches from the sheet metal hood. But it never once broke down.
A few memories. The bus had a working gas gauge. “Working” in that the needle moved, but so did the little dial behind it; the dial would jiggle between a quarter tank+ and under empty. I always drove the night shift, and ran out of gas so many times I made a sign reading “OUT OF GAS” for when I hopped out and started thumbing towards the nearest town.
I don’t remember ever walking more than a mile before someone stopped, and half of them were rancher/farmer pickup drivers with gas cans in the bed. It may have helped that even then I wore overalls, and so looked rural representable, and less hippie reprehensible.
We had planned a stop at Devils Tower on one trip, and dark of night drove around lost on Wyoming back roads without finding it, finally giving up and pulling into a parking lot to sleep ‘til dawn and try again in daylight. Dawn came, but much of the sky was obscured by a massive stone butte. We were parked a hundred yards away in the Devils Tower visitor lot.
Picked up a lot of hitchhikers; thumb out in the ‘70’s hitchhikers KNEW the bus was stopping, and we couldn’t bear to let them down.
Guy hitchhiking in Kansas; picked him up again the next day on a different road in Colorado. Picked up another guy in Kansas, this time when we were eastbound for home in Baltimore. He was holding a sign that read “Washington DC” and was delighted that we drove straight through. Picked up two lovely young ladies in Arizona holding a sign that read “Zion”. Being gallant gentlemen we drove to Zion. They were, uh, appreciative.
Hitchhikers everywhere; those were different times.
So many weird and oddball occurrences on those bus trips. A nicely (freshly) paved stretch of mountain road that just. . . .ended. No “ROAD ENDS” or “CONSTRUCTION AHEAD” signs, no barrier at the end, just no more freaking road. The brakes in the bus worked OK, especially once we ran off into the meadow.
There was one episode that the laws of physics do not seem to allow. We were driving a long, straight, level stretch along an empty desert road one night and came upon an accident, a car flipped on its roof. A single car accident, sitting perfectly in the travel lane.
There were long, locked-up-the-brakes skid marks on the asphalt. Which ended DIRECTLY below the car’s tires. Other than resting gently on its roof above the skid marks the car was completely undamaged, no dents, no busted side mirrors or broken windows. Completely intact, just upside down. And empty, with no one around.
It was a wee bit spooky, and still defies explanation. That flipped car encounter took place a few hours after we saw (what I insist) was a rocket launch; a fast rising trail of flame leaping into the night sky. One of my companions that trip still insists both things were alien related, but the only probing I remember was in Zion.
RHaslam wrote:
I'm gonna run the Electric Kool-aid acid test on Marshall lake, no school bus, but a big freighter canoe, and you're either on the canoe or off the canoe.
Rob, don’t forget to feed the hungry bee.