Date: Mon, 6 Oct 1997 20:51:31 -0700 From: Charlie Ford Subject: Since Saint Louis I left Saint Louis on last Thursday morning. I enjoyed my time there.I met so many great people. Not only Bill and Kathryn but also Kurt Smith, Pat Hoffman, Kurt Dilday, Stephen White, Brian, and so many others, too many names to remember. All of them are great buddies, some more-so than others of course. Bill, Kathryn, Pat, Kurt S......See you again one of these days. The night before leaving I attended the monthly meeting of the Gateway VW Club. This seems like a really good group of folks. The attendance at that meeting was the best I have seen at any club meeting, of any sort, ever. There must have been 50 people there. Good group, they were. On the way there I had a blowout running along at about 65 mph. The bus was loaded and ready for departure on Thursday morning so it squirreled a little when the rubber erupted without a moments notice. I think it scared the car beside me more that it did me. The guy turned white as a sheet and gave me a dirty look as he passed me like I had imploded the tire by osmosis. I had my spare on in 10 minutes and proceeded with confidence. The club meeting was really good. They elected new club officers and took care of all of the business of the day, or month I should say. This group didn't seem to have the encumbrance of ego chasing them into the voting process. Just like any other club there are doers, semi doer's, and "ain't gonna do muchers". All sort of serve to fill in the pieces of the puzzle, and somehow it all works out. I won the 50/50 pot and walked away a little richer than I arrived. I bought 2 tickets for a dollar a piece, won $12.00, the other $12.00 went to the club, and all seemed to be quite satisfied with the results. Of course I was smiling like a mule eating briars through a picket fence. Money to eat on does that to me for some reason. On Thursday morning I got out of bed at my regular time of somewhere around 9:00 AM, give or take 60 minutes. Bill and Kathryn were already up and drinking coffee, but then that was the way most every morning was. Funny, I actually felt ashamed of myself for getting up so late. But then, shame like that don't usually last to long, I am on vacation and have grown a little lazy. I left them at around 12:00 noon, after we all went to breakfast at 11:00. I hit I-70 East, then I-270 South, then I turned south again on Highway #3. Darrell Boehler and his wife, whom I had met at Busses By the Arch had invited me to drop in at their house on my way through to Kentucky where I have an Americorps gig to perform on October 6 and 7. Money back in the pockets or a poorman is a nice thing to happen. I need the money and they need the training. Life is good. As I drove I came along beside landscape that can only be seen by a great river. The Mississippi River bottom is as pretty here as it is in Tennessee or Wisconsin. Maybe the temperature is a little different but the land is all rich and furtile. "Just right for farming and raisin' yungun's" as one fellow at a store put it. He had six sons. As you drive you see the simple homes of the working class. The people of this region reminded me a bit of some of the folks I know back in south Georgia. They are just farmers, or clerks, or seamstresses. They work on the farm, in the store, or in the factory. Their lives are complicated by life itself, not by making millions, getting that next promotion, or making the next lucrative investment. The biggest portion of them only dream about such matters wealth. Usually these folks are church goers that have very fundamental outlooks. Come to think of it even many of the non-church goers have fundamental outlooks. They only know of God what they have heard the preacher say. Some of course are more closely in tune with God than others. These most of the time are pleasant to be around, there motive is to share and love you without limitations. Some like to just talk the talk and be what God told their friends they should be. Peer pressure in adulthood, it's hell ain't it?. Along Highway #3 I stopped at the statue of Popeye, The Sailor Man. He was much shorter than I thought he would be. I guess the day he did the pose no one had bothered to bring any spinach to the set. I did a "yak, yak, yak, yak" laugh, got in the Mothership and pulled out, anxious to see what other interesting landmarks lay before me, plus I had this strange craving for spinach. My feelings were good along this route. I had been in the company of the Bowman's for a month and a couple of days. The time I spent with them was certainly a pleasure, and of necessity, but it was so frustrating to have to stop one more time. For the first week I yearned for the road. I haven't really been out there since I arrived at Ted Finesman a couple months ago. I pulled into Darrell Boehlers frontyard after driving about 3 hours and enjoying the aloness the road brings. I followed 3 all the way down to 149, turned right and drove toward Carbondale, Ill.. Darrell and Jolene live about 8 miles south of Carbondale in a little settlement called Makanda, Population: 400. The first night there I think I must have talked there heads off. They asked me to tell them my background so I did. Anytime I give that speech I embellish much more than I actually need to. But then most of the time as many will tell you I tend to embellish quite largely. I am a happy talkative kind of guy, what can I say? Darrell and I got into the busses on Friday. We went and picked up his son Tom's bus because Darrell had picked up a system from Carl in Fresno. He started on that, while I changed my oil. Simplicity is my forte'. Darrell on the other hand was having a bit of problem with getting the bus to run right. He replaced everything as instructed, it still wouldn't run right. We finally just through our hands in the air and went fishin'. Fishin' is alwasy a good thing to do, and he had the perfect spot in which to do it. We hitched up the "V" hull fiberglass boat with the 10 horse Mercury slung on the back and pointed the pickup toward Cedar Lake. This pristinely beautiful body of water is only about 4 miles from Darrell's house. it is supposes to supply water to the city of Carbondale and others around the area, but on this day it was hopefully going to supply us with some simple pleasure and a couple of fishy's to boot. "A bad day fishin' is better than a good day workin'". We launched off and motored off away from shore. We did this because the boat wouldn't have run very well toward shore. As we buzzed along I saw rock bluffs that jutted up out of the water and loomed high like an Indian should be standing somewhere up there. At least according to all the westerns I saw when I was a kid. Finally we arrived at our designated fishing spot. We baited up and cast our rubber worms upon the water. it felt good to be doing this again. A bunch of years ago I did a year or two of serious bass fishing. there is just nothing like the feel of having a Hawg hit your lure just when the boredom of reeling the line in takes hold. I swear my heart skips a beat each time this happens. The lunker bass was not to be had on this fine evening. The fall of the year had driven the fish from the shallows and they had all swam deep. They were laying down there in the darkness like motionless, well lets say fish. They had no intention dining on our fare for the evening. Life was still good, we were fishing. At the same time we were fishing we were doing what all fisherman do. We chatted in a low silent tone, and only spoke about interesting things when we spoke at all. Life's greatest mysteries come to light while fishing. It is a hypnotizing sport. The water just sort of lays there, the boat rocks with the waves, the breeze brushes through your hair, and then you have to take a leak. Nature calls in more ways than one. We returned home with Darrell holding the record for the most fish caught. Most of them were only about 8 inches long, but still he held the record for the day. We practiced the catch and release method, we were there for the fun of it anyway. The next morning we got up and Darrell once again started to work on Tom's Bus. He finally figured it out. he had knocked a vacuum hose off in the process of putting the new unit on. This was one of the main hoses that attaches to the little pipe up around the air flow meter. He used a couple of his cruising tools and put it back on. The bus ran fine after that. In the meantime I checked my compression. The only trouble I had was that I could not get the damn number two plug back into the hole. It is a burger bear as many of you know already. At least it is on a type 4 engine. The trick is to use a non-swiveling plug socket, and use a 6 inch extension. Finally I succeeded after several attempts. It was about time, I had used up all of the cache of curse words I keep in my tool box for such a task as this.< The compression was #1= 85, #2=105, #3=95, #4=110. Now I did my compression check while the van was cold. Would it make a difference when it is hot? I damn sure hope so, if it is not the case then I better start looking at an engine rebuild, or another engine. Now where would I get the money for such a task as that? the Mothership is running really good. She has plenty of power and pep. the plugs looked really good and are burning as even as could be. Man I have to marvel sometime at how much I have learned since the beginning of this trip. Hey, tuning up my bus has become a machismo thing with me. After the bus work was done wee headed off to the Human Society of Carbondale. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I have secured me a dog. I had said in conversation that if I did have a dog on the trip or get one, it would have to be a basset hound. I have always wanted one and would wait for the right one to come along. It just so happened that Jolene volunteers for the Humane Society and explained that they might have one, she called while Darrell and I were fiddling with our busses. They had one. I walked in with the both of them and proceeded to fill out all sorts of regulatory paperwork. I jumped through hoops much like I figure it would be if I were adopting a child. Tony and Melanie Moore can tell you about that. My fee was $50.00, theirs was much more. I finally got approved to see the dogs, yep, they only let you see them after you have been approved. As I walked to cage ten, the designated cage of this Basset, I noticed the imprisoned dogs and cats along the route. All looking like they needed to be sprung from this stronghold. The barks were loud and desperate. The pungent odor and the cold concrete said "yes, this a dog prison". I found, pen number ten. There he was. ""Gus"" the wonder dog, the Basset of a lifetime. This white dog, blotched with red-bone spots, and a droop significant of a true champion hound. I opened the gate and started to introduce myself. I slid the collar lead over his head and walked him outside. His ears drug the ground as he sniffed the fresh clean air and felt the sunshine. He sprung to life, his tail wagged, his ears perked, his senses went to full alert. He never showed much excitement, but you knew it was there. he held his feelings at bay with the coolness of Luke. I called out his chosen name, which fits him very well. Augustus I whispered while petting him. He responded with licks and even a faster wagging tail. I lead him over to another pen where another dog stood. The lab inside the pen started barking at "Gus". "Gus" returned the bark with a long guttural bay, just like a good hound would do. This was the dog, the one with class and charisma, yet an easiness. He and I would do just fine together. I walked him over to a field and let him off the leash. I knew if he started running I could catch him. He runs about as fast as the Mothership, relatively speaking of course. If there ever was a VW of the dog world, it would have to be a Basset. I paid the money, and secured "Gus". I pick him up on Wednesday if all goes well. Hopefully his neutering will not change his bark, and the checkup will not show any adverse disease like heart worms. I want him really badly. I could use the companionship along the road. Say a prayer for the vet visit to go well and he shall be free from his imprisonment. I left Darrell and Jolene's on Sunday. They are great people, no doubt. It is just a three hour drive down to Franklin, Kentucky where my job is, so I headed out about 9:30 AM. More about that later. More on "Gus" in the next post. I am sure I will have much to tell you. Thanks for tolerating the ramblings. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.slurpee.net/~keen/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"