Date: Mon, 6 Oct 1997 20:51:31 -0700
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
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"