Date: Thu, 13 Feb 1997 14:18:30 -0500
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
Subject: From Heaven to Hell

Grand canyon to Las Vegas-

The day at the canyon was one of the more special times I have spent on my
trip thusfar.  I saw views that were astounding and now it was time to move
on.  That night I camped on a small dirt road managed by the Parks service.
It was chilly but very restful.

The next morning I eased south on Hwy. 64 back to Interstate 40.  I headed
west until I came once again to old Route 66 in Seligman Arizona.  I drove
until I saw the old Route 66 Visitors Center.  This store with a fancy name
is nothing more than a roadside flea market.  The man that runs it, Robert
Waldmire is an old hippie.  He has collected all sorts of memorabilia from
the Hwy. and other places around the country.  Bob is a kindly spiritual
type dude with much to say and much to see.

He showed me around and then went back to his artwork.  He draws all of his
brochures and the work he does it very meticulous.  We immediately became
friends and confidants because we had both grown up with a need to be
packrats.  In side the store he had hung license plates from several
countries and all of the states.  I went to the bus and pulled out my
Olympic tag and gave it to him.  He asked me to sign the back of it so that
he would remember who he got this special one of a kind tag from.

I ended up hanging around the store for 3 hours.  While there we played
some music together, him on his flute and me on my guitar.  He was self
taught and so was I so the music was pure and una adulterated by notes and
theory.  I had a blast singing songs like Sweet Melissa (Allman Bros.) and
Long-haired country Boy (Charlie Daniels). Customers stood and listened and
took pictures of these two old freaks playing and singing here on old route
66.  Actually it was kind of flattering and made one feel like a celebrity.
Who knows maybe one day I can bring Joe out of retirement and let him be
my bodyguard.  NOT!!!!

I left the store and Visitors center and continued my journey west.  Vegas
being the goal of the day.  I drove through the desert on Hwy. 93 slowly
climbing to a stretch of mountains that looked as eerie as something from
the Adams family.  These mountains silhouetted against the evening sky
looked like giant anthills.  They were dark and ominous.  They grew more
haunting the further I progressed.

I arrived at Hoover Dam and on the descent into the canyon I saw a
marvelous man-made structure holding back millions of gallons of water.  I
saw hoards of tourist in busses.  Old folks walking around trying to find
an easier way to climb the hills.  Bikers by the droves revved their
Harley零 and flew their colors.  I didn靖 stop because the bus was starting
to run a bit harsh and choppy.

I climbed back up the ridge and proceeded on toward Vegas.  I arrived
around 6:00 PM and the bus once again was running sad.  She was cutting out
really badly.  I found a parking lot at a Home Depot, went in and asked the
manager would it be OK to camp there for the night.  He told me no problem
and that I should park under a street light so I would be safe.  I watched
a couple hours of TV and slipped off to sleep.

The next morning I drove the bus to a shop called The Beetle Barn.  There I
met the owner of the shop, Warren who promptly got right on the bus.  First
he found the timing a bit off for the altitude.  He set that and off I went
to see downtown Vegas.  I was not impressed.  There were homeless people
everywhere and multitudes of hookers that lined the street even in front of
McDonalds.  I knew I didn靖 have the money to gamble so I went walking
around.  I know I would hate to pay the electric bill for some of those
casinos.  Even in the daytime the places are lit up like the sun.

After strolling around I got back in the bus and headed back out of town.
The bus once again was not acting up to par so I went back to The Beetle
Barn.  This time Warren took a look at my Airflow Meter and explained
exactly what my problem was.  The part cost $400.00 new.  I was devastated.

He explained that the worn spot on the carbon strip was where the motor
starts cutting out and if I could keep it out of that zone of acceleration
it would drive fine.  I decided I would head on to LA where I have more
relatives.

More on that leg in the next post.

Thanks for tolerating my 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".

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

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