Date: Tue, 2 Sep 1997 19:29:17 -0700
From: Charlie <cford@mindspring.com>
To: type2@bigkitty.azaccess.com
Subject: BBTA, Hoodlums, Honeymoons, and Partying

There is strength in numbers.  Not only the strength that comes from the
fact there are so many of you, but also the strength that comes from the
conversation; the difference of opinions; the sharing of knowlege; and the
łplaying˛ together.

This weekend Ihad the opportunity to łgather myself together˛ with some
really great and cool people.  Folks from all over the country.  Some of
theplaces they were from, I have already passed through in my travels over
the past 8 months.  Many of them, in particular, Ginger Nipps of Casper,
Wyoming, drove as much as 1250 one way to arrive at the 12th Busses by the
Arch event.  Dedication only a redheaded Volkswagen owner could muster.
Ginger if I would have realized it was you who had driven that far I would
have supported the hell out of the trophy presentation.

I have spoken before about the łmetaphysical˛ power Volkswagenąs.  This
idea of something spiritual coming from this machine has, for lack of a
better term łplagued˛ me since the beginning of this trip.  There truly is
some mysterious power at work here, and has been since 1949 when they first
arrived in America.

When you become an owner of a Volkswagen, you become part of a community.
It is a pity that their are still those people out there that donąt realize
just how big that community is.  I have had elderly men driving a bus, pull
up to a redlight adjacient to me, and smile the biggest smile as they wave
heartily.  Proof that this machine bridges gaps, we need that badly in this
country today.

The Beetle gave us economy and simplicity in a world of łocean goingą
American cars˛ that got about 2 gallons to the mile.  The microbus helped
America express itself as individuals.  Split windows and bay windows being
driven today are still looked upon as being a łvehicle of the
non-conformist˛, a łrebel˛ usually with a łcause˛.

This theory can be proven if you take a drive on any road in the USA.
Watch the conservativeąs shrug you, the kids shoot peace signs at you, and
the middle aged wave at you like they have been there.  Each one of them
want a piece of what you have, the liberation of driving something that
goes against the grain, something that makes the statement only a
Volkswagen makes.  They want it, they just canąt, for one reason or
another, crawl out of their tin box enough to grab onto it.  I know that
feeling I guess.

On Friday afternoon the BBTA offially kicked off.  I woke up Friday
morning, for me early is around 8:30 am, and there were still around 25
busses in the campground.  By 2:00 pm there were close to 50, then by 6:00
pm there were close to 90.  All sorts poured down the white dusty gravel
road that led by the fish pond into the reserved area.  There were splits,
bays, single cabs, double cabs, jettas, rabbits, foxes, and Eurovans.  The
electric sites filled up immediately and since there were only a few plugs
to go around, we pulled out supressor strips which gave us more power at
the ready.

The guys from Wisconson, namely the Soiney brothers, brought with them an
entire bar.  You may think I am exxagerating, but nope it ainąt so.  They
brought a refrigerator, a 20 by 40 foot canopy, guitar and vocalist,
amplifier, and I think I even saw a kitchen sink in one corner of the
lounge.  These guys put on the RITZ.  There were about 10 extension cords
coming out of the tent running rto each outlet within 50 feet.

At 12:00 noon on Friday, Brian Holcomb, Rob Luray, and myself went to Bill
Bowmans home to help him drive his split window bus to the event grounds.
Rob is sporting a Vanagon with a GTI ngine hanging under itąs bonnet.  It
runs like a deer at  a whopping 115 horses.

Robąs gambit of the weekend was to try and unravel the myusteries of the
listserv.  He was looking for some afirmation of his post, as well as some
intructions as to how he might use the list more productively.  We, as many
listies as were there, tried to advise him on the dynamics of the group in
which we cybernetically live with.  I didnąt follow the synthetic thread
too closely so what could I offer in opinion there?.  I just think I have
to change my oil every three thousand miles or Iąm not being a good steward
to The łMother˛.  She is good too me so I must be good to her.

I am not sure that Rob really meant to be as agressive as he said he may
have sounded.  I explained of the perils of getting flamed.  One thing is
for sure, your ass can get pretty chapped every now and then while
expressing opinion.  RE:  Asbestos Lawsuit.  Hahahahaha!

We brought Bills bus out, and by the time we reached the campground around
3:00 pm there were people everywhere.  Milling around and shaking hands.
VW church was beginning.  There was talk about each others year apart, the
new bus the person was driving, the troubles they might have gone through
to get here, and what it might take to fix the problem while here.

The kids were in the playground swinging, chasing each other, laughing and
crying.  The swings made a whirring noise each time they pendelumed back
and forth.  Several of the bigger kids, like Andy Mckinely were trying to
go as high as they could.  You know so you can see over the top bar.  I
even tried it myself a couple times.  Swinging may be my new sport of
choice.

Sonney Hinson brought a potatoe gun that was made of pvc pipe.  This cool
little demonstration of trajected power was a lot of fun.  Talk about
mashed potatoes.  Sonny is a truck driver that has been coming to this
event for the past few years.  Good guy, no doubts.

I had people right and left coming up and asking łAre you Charlie Ford?˛ or
łIs this the Mothership?˛.  I would confirm that they had rightfully found
me or her, and in turn they would tell me how they have been following my
trip through my posts.

I will tell all of you here and now, and I say this from the bottom of my
heart.  I am not used to this kind of attention, and at times in my life
have had to struggle to keep my pride in check, of course never have had
much to be proud of anyway, a few good jobs maybe.  I donąt always know how
to handle the gift of compliment you folks give to me.  All I can say is
łthank you˛, if I ever have the chance, I am at your service.  If you doubt
that, then try me.

Now back to the action, the mushy stuff being said and
all........................

Once again on Friday night we had more mishaps with the local boys.  The
kid that I mentioned in my last post returned, you remember, the one who
alledgedly łplayed˛ guitar.  He strolled into camp about 9:00 pm, just as
the party under the DBG tent was starting.  We had ordrers for the
campground management to call them should he return.  We had complained
about the locals of the night before to them earlier in the day and they
shared with us, after we had described him, that they had had much problem
out of this young man.  Just as we suspected, he was bad news.

As soon as we saw him we contacted them.  The management in turn called the
law.  It took the law about 30 minutes to arrive.  In the meantime several
of us took the role of playing security for the moment.  We made sure that
since there was a warrant on him, and since we appreciated the owners,that
he didnąt run off, łhey! community policing works.  Not that we would have
grabbed and held him, but we may have struck up a stalling conversation
with him in order to keep him there.  He wanted to armwrestle the night
before, so maybe we could have stalled him that way.

When the deputy arrived he only had to walk up beside him, cuff him, and
move him away from the tent and camping area.  It was as smoothe as silk,
no runs, no drips, no errors.  It was all said and done in 60 seconds.  We
commenced to partying again.  This time in celebration of the purging of
crime in our community.

Todd from Wisconson took off on some good tunes from Dylan, Denver, Prine,
and Young.  We sung and listened, it was individual choice.  I even did a
couple tunes I know, although it was not as enduringly entertaining as Todd
was.  He is a good musician.

Later in the evening we had a little more problem for the locals.  We had
two of the guys, and a young teenage kid come into the campground and
partake of the free booze the Cheeseheads had brought with them.  As I
said, it was a Bar, an open bar with a tip jar on the side.  Any of the
folks registered at the event could partake and suit there pleasure.  These
guys strolled in with their women and started slapping down booze like two
winoąs with a twenty dollar bill in the shirt.

The problem was that no one knew who everybody was, but everybody knew who
most were.  These guys were being bold in the attempt to crash the party.
They werenąt invited to partake of anything, they just clandestinely did
it.

When Walt, the Texan went to ask them to leave they started putting up a
fuss.  They claimed first off that they had a bus in the lot.  Ironically
enough the dumbasses pointed to my bus, The Mothership, how foolish to
believe they could have the privilege to own such a fine motor vehicle.  I
then said it was time to move them out.  It was one thing to steal a drink,
but quite another to insult The Mothership.

I feel in many ways as if I am making these guys out to be hoodlums, or
lower class.  I certainly do not mean to imply that they were unsafe around
us, we would not have beaten them up or anything like that.  I do mean to
say that they brought with them more stress to the situation in that they
were obstrusive and far from like kind or mind.  They carried themselves as
someone whoąs life of booze, hard living, and the ability to create a
dollar, legally or illegally, whichever was needed at the time, was
something that was respectful.  It is not, that is the rule, and it ainąt
negotiable.

My growing up in southern Georgia has lent me the opportunity to see that
lifestyle in honesty.  I, in my life experience have in fact participated
in at least some practices of that way of life.  Thank God for grace, and a
humble amount of, łneed to grow˛.  Both the afore-mentioned diety, and The
Mothership have provided me with with opportunity to do a little of both.
I pray that these folks one day also have that need and opportunity.
łThere but by the grace of God go I˛.

We asked them to leave and they did leave after some reasonably, shall we
say, heavy prompting.  The real challenge of control came when the
gentlemen of the party decided they would sneak around the back of the pond
damn and collect them some of the booze, and to top it off they took cups
that sat on the bar in which to carry the liquid rinse.  I saw them walking
up the road carrying the goblets but really didnąt think anything about it.
Then I thought again and rode up to them on my bike.

We had learned in the first confrontation that a couple of them were from
The north Florida panhandle, which is southern Georgia in attitude at
least.  Only geographics separate us.  Florida is still a southern state,
but north Florida is much more southern than south Florida.  In the
southern part...well....you know what I mean.

By the time I caught up with them they were all the way up the road about
100 yds from the campground.  As I rode up I whistled so they would know I
was coming.  If I startled them they might lash out without thinking.  I
didnąt want to fight, I am a lover not a fighter.  I was alone and needed
to maintain my control and theirs.  I learned that when I was bouncing in a
southern Georgia country bar.  Hey it was a good job, except for the
drunks.

As I rode up to them they heard me and turned around.  I entered with my
best southern drawl.  I was trying to be seen as their nieghbor, not as
their foe.  We discussed our situation quite thoroughly. In the
conversations between bouncers and drunks, there several dozen handshakes
and vocal commitments.  None that can be completely trusted by either side.
The proof is in the pudding!  Stay out and your an honest man, come back
and your a liar and we will call the sheriff.

I noticed the glasses they were holding a little closer and noticed that
they had indeed been taken from the table of the Cheeseheads bar, now
called the Crusty Cafe and Casino Party Center.  I had also noticed that as
I came up on the bike the first thing that one started saying was,
ławe...man.....you gona take my drink ainątcha?˛.  I replied with  łwell
man, the fact of the matter is that you yanked them glasses for the bar
didnątcha˛.  He says łwell hell yeah man....damn we put a dollar a piece in
that tip jar and we deserve a draink˛.  I says łwell....drink your draink
and I can take that stolen property back to the rightful owners˛.

He says łdamn man.....I cainąt drink all this in one shot˛.  I asked if I
could smell the drink.  As he held the glass up he says, łdamn man...you
got me, itąs tequila˛.  Each one of them had a full 8 ounce glass of
Tequila.  At least the two older guys did.  The kid poured his cup out as
soon as I came up to them.  He was just a kid.

I told him that he needed to give me the glass.  He asked if they could
drink it.  I told them to get them a drink and pour the rest out .  They
each took them a big gulp and handed me the glasses.  They had gotten a bit
of what they wanted and I had gotten what I wanted, so we were buddies for
sure.  They had taken a big enough gulp of the Pepe Lopez to ensure that
they would be łfollowing the little animals around˛ in just a little while.


I wished them a fond goodbye, they wished me one, and all was well once
again in the world.  At least as far as I could see it was.  I stood and
spoke with Brian Holcomb who had ridden up in the middle of our little
talk.  I must say it was satisfying to settle the dipute amicably.  I was
enriched by the situation.  Got my heart pumping a little bit and I had to
practice some tack.  Didnąt need violence at the event did we?  Nope, we
didnąt.

After coming back to camp I got to meet so many folks.  Josh, Dan, Jon,
Adam, Tim, Bill George, Lou, Slim, Jim, Benny and Tom.  I wish I could
remember every name to every person but I remember faces and eyes much
better.  I already knew Andy M., Dan S., and Matt S. From the great state
of mind that is Wisconsin, so all in all I think I met just about everybody
there.  Special thanks to Tom Cerniak and his Dad, if you need me call me.

It was a good late night had by all in attendance.  We drank a lot of beer,
celebrated the fact that crime had been once again fended off by the mock
security force that was at the ready call.  Life was safe once again in
this small city of Volkswagens.  That night we fell asleep in peaceful
somber, and dreamed of 1600ąs, oval windows, and the exact tolerances of
valves humming in unison.  Of course there were probably other dreams had
by the newlyweds that had just been married last Saturday.  This was there
honeymoon.  I donąt remember their names but good luck and keep it
together.  There are already to many divorces and not enough weddings.  I
wonder if one day we will have a baby delivered at one of our events?  That
would be cool I think.  Didnąt that happen at a Grand Funk Concert in
Atlanta?  I think it did.

Saturday morning I got up about 9:00.  The Caravan was supposed to leave at
11:00 am so I knew I had plenty of time to try and find my head from the
events of the night before.  I finally found it lying in the weeds over
behind the Cheeseheads, Crusty Cafe.  Someone must have dropped it out
there after they had caught it rolling once again from my body.  Maybe,
maybe not, anyway I found it.

I dropped the tarp off The Mothership and while doing that task I asked
someone that passed by my bus, how long of a caravan it would be?.  That
person turned and said smilingly happily, oh....hundred miles or somewhere
around that.  In fact, Bill later told me that it was about 80 miles.  I
think after going, it was just about the right length.  In the beginning
there was the mystery of where we might be going.  In the middle there was
the relaxation that goes with getting there.  In the end there was the
anticipation of actually reaching the final destination.  When we arrived
back at camp we were all ready for a nice little nap.  Life is always good
after a nice Sunday drive, even if it does happen on Saturday.

That evening we all attended the Awards Ceremony for the event.  The BBTA
is not exactly a car show in the sense that most of us might think.  It is
a gathering, a campout, a reunion.  The attendees vote on who should get
the prettiest, ugliest, and most innovative busses.  It is not a bunch of
politically influenced judges walking around inspecting the nooks and
cranies of each vehicle.

I kind of like this way of doing it.  That way a person with a minimal
budget has a good chance to place in one of the categories.  I must say
that there were some outstanding busses  in attendance.  I donąt think
anyone could argue with the fact that Chris Walsh of Glenview, Illinois and
his 63 split window Sundial Camper should have been awarded the nicest
trophy.  I also donąt think that there is any doubt that Brian Holcomb
should have one the roughest trophy with Crusty Bus, the 1957 panel van.
Just give him a year and watch the progress on this one.  The bus is bound
for fame.

The Mothership and I had the privelege of winning the łMost Amazing
Journey˛ award.  I accepted the award for she and I with a tear in my eye
and a smile on my face.  I swear I think this is the greatest honor that
has ever befallen this country boy.  I was awe inspired and humbled.  Yet
at the same time I felt pride stick in my throat like a lump of dry bread.
Thanks Bill, you guys made me feel special.

I retired early.  I lay there in the Mothership and looked at the trophy
and reflected on my trip.  I think I realized right then that I kind of
like this VW crowd.  When I began this journey, I wasnąt so happy.  It was
like I told someone recently, last year I made 50,000 (a slight
exxageration), and this year I have made 5000.  I am happier now than I
have been in many years.  So many of you have brought this peace of heart,
man what can I say?

I tallied my miles today while on the caravan.  I have traveled 15,420
miles so far.  I still have to go to Nova Scotia, but wonąt get to leave
headed there until October 10 or so.  I have so far hit 27 states.  I
figure by the time I finish I will have seen hundreds of emotional changes,
like the one in Cincinatti, and moved through them just like we all move
through the changes of life.

One of these days I am going to write a post on some of those changes.
That one night in Seattle when I was feeling so lost is what I mean.
Lately a lot of stuff has been surfacing to mind.  When youąre driving by
yourself you have the chance to try and figure those surfacingąs out.  I
will share my thoughts on them later.

Sunday and Mondays post are on the way.  As soon as I can write them.
Today was the peak of the weekend for all of us.  The downhill stretch
begins.  I am sure it will be as good as the rest.  Sleepy time for now.

Thanks for tolerating the ramblingąs.

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.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html

"Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"