Freezing your VW Off

Poor Stella.

I bet she thought she was going to get special treatment.  Appears when the weatherman says 6° and snow I should listen and put you in the garage.  Now you must sit till the weather warms up enough to unfreeze you.

If You Treat A Woman Right

In just over 24 hours from this post myself, Emily and Charmin will all be climbing aboard Stella and heading out to Lamoille Canyon.  I would be lying if I wasn’t having any reservations.  Let’s see why.

1. Mom is not going.
2. Emily is going.
3. Charmin is going.
4. Stella is a 21 year old VW Westfalia.
5. We are driving across one of the most desolate areas in the country in Stella (did I mention she is a 21 year old VW).

Now I knew what I was getting into when I purchased Stella and I fully expect her to make the trek safely.  She in fact has already made 2 long distance treks.  One from Bend to Newport Oregon and then all the way home to Reno.  Another a round trip from Reno to Lake Almanor.  She performed beautifully both times.

This time however, I will be the only “grown up” on the trip and any and all responsibility however is mine and mine alone.  Luckily I am heading out there to meet a group of people for a midweek wedding and I suspect if I don’t show they will make some phone calls (if they have service that is).

I have been giving her lots of love.  Had her reviewed by a vdub mechanic who has given her a thumbs up, checked all her fluid levels and gave her a nice rubdown.  I have been treating her right.

The real comfort for me is that she’s a camper. If something goes wrong, at least we will have a place to sleep till the Cavalry arrives.

Love, American Style

Time to get back to the real world.  After several weeks (yes, 3 weeks) of vacation this weekend marks the end of a work free period. How was it spent? One week spent on the ocean coast, a long drive up, a new (used, but new to me) Westfalia named Stella, a day spent crabbing in Waldport with friends, a trip to the worlds largest sea cave full of sea lions, a 14.5 hour drive home with only one stop due to overheating, a couple days in the woods, and a day at Sand Harbor, Lake Tahoe. Now I am roaring to get back to work.
Maybe not. Work is overrated.  While gone I apparently survived another round of layoffs (thank you FSM). I will let you know Monday first thing. If things go really bad, I will always have a van to live in.  Most likely park it down by the river.
Meet Stella.  The newest member of our family.  Isn’t she HOT.  That’s right, the A/C doesn’t work. 

I am thinking I might need a beer right about now and seeing as our fridge decided to die just as the vacation ended I have a cooler of beer sitting next to me so it will take zero effort.  I might have to make this a permanent edition to the living room (over Susanne’s dead body most likely). Anyone for a PBR?  Yeah, not my beer either, but as Eric “The Piano Mover Man” Holden never was able to complete the piano moving I managed to drink the 12 pack he never picked up. I have to say, it does make a nice summer beer.
Damn, I have been away from this laptop for so long, can you help me…is this thing on?
Am I rambling...is this thing on?
So if you are one of the 10 readers (not regular readers, but just one of the 10 people who read this blog) you noticed that our family took a vacation to the Oregon coast. We rented a house on the ocean (no, I won’t recommend it, the house, I highly recommend the ocean) of Seal Rock Oregon, just south of Newport or North of Waldport, depending on your sense of direction.  It was newly on the rental market because apparently the old lady who lived there just died.  Who’s kidding. Susanne likes to correct me every time I make that joke, but the chalk mark outline on the kitchen floor proved I was right.  They really should have cleaned up a bit first.  I mean, they lady’s slippers were still in the closet. True story.  I’m not making this stuff up. Maybe some of it, the house wasn’t RIGHT on the ocean.
So what was this blog about? Oh yeah, Love, American Style.  Well, there was no loving this vacation, I mean for Susanne and I.  Jake did sneak out a lot so who knows what he got into (so to speak) but the kids were sleeping in our room at the rental because the beds in the loft at 50 feet above sea level and 14 feet above the 2nd floor weren’t exactly child safe.  So, the kids “slept” in a mattress on our bedroom floor.  Sleeping being loosely used here of course.
Let me demonstrate.


Now I don’t want you thinking that our vacation was love free.  It was full of love.  My kids gave me lots of love.  My wife loved the ocean. I loved not being at work and best of all, I loved having my family together. Oh, and there was Wine love.
Additionally we had all sorts of interesting conversations regarding love.  My favorite one occurred on the trip up.  There we were heading up into Oregon. The kids watching “Swan Princess” (a story of true love) and Jacob texting his girlfriend in Washington (long distance love) when Susanne comes over a hill and smack dab in the middle of the road is a dead squirrel and another standing over it (lost love).
“Oh, that is so sad. That poor squirrel lost the love of his life!” she says.
“That’s one way to look at it,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he was eating her?”

Hang On, We’re Almost at 50!

No, no, I’m not talking about age here. Well, I guess in a way I am.

Greg has a way of wearing me down when it comes to getting new stuff. It generally takes me a while to warm up to the idea of purchasing something like an iPhone, or a shed for the yard, or new tires on the car. Greg likes to tell the story about how I really didn’t think we needed to get a DVR when they first came out, but he kept talking about it, sending me emails, researching the product, hinting at it, and playing the recording of how great it would be while I slept to stir the subconscious consumer beast within.

And it works. I love our DVR. (So does my bladder.) And my iPhone. And the shed for the yard. OK, the new tires aren’t very exciting but they do provide quite the peace of mind.

To date, he has gotten several new laptops, a motorcycle, and the DVR this way. I am certain he will soon be getting his own iPhone since he has been bombarding me with hints (subtle and not so subtle) so that I cave or go crazy, or both. It’s not that I don’t want him or us to have nice or new things. It’s not that at all. I just prefer to get things at a much discounted rate at garage sales. Waiting to see an iPhone on a card table in front of someone’s house on a Saturday morning may take too long for Greg though. Go figure. *Shrug.*

His latest burning desire, well, besides me (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), is being presented to me over and over and over and over again with a slightly different angle this time. THIS time it’s all about Greg feeling old. He has declared himself in the throws of a mid-life crisis. And what would soften this self-imposed blow? Thankfully, it is not a Corvette and an 18 year-old (although we ALL know how he likes them young. JUST KIDDING!). No, he has no desire for the sports car or a fling. Thank FSM. Instead, the ONLY thing that will successfully ease the pain of this transition is a VW bus. That’s right. The man wants to turn himself into a hippy. Thankfully, he wants the family along for the groovy ride.

So over the last few months, during the depths of despair of his self-professed mid-life crisis, Greg has thoroughly researched what years are better than others, which engines have a little more umph, which ones had an A/C option, and which ones can have an after-market three-point harness installed to match today’s seat belt standards. Over these last few months, he has sent me many (and by many, I mean TONS) of pictures of buses for sale. You see, he is wearing me down.

Then last week, he firmly planted me on Team Mid-Life Crisis. He’s flung me, albeit gently, into pro-bus mode. How did he triumph, you ask? He took me to look at one. You see, there is a soft spot in my heart for these little gems. My mother and I traveled from El Paso up into Canada and back down the coast over a two month period in one of these things when I was growing up. Not only did we take on the open road, singing 100 Bottles of Bear on the Wall, we did this trip twice, once when I was about 8 and again at 15. As a child I used to love sprawling out in the back while my mom drove us to our next destination. (Of course, my kids will be firmly planted in their 5-point harness cages car seats.) Camping and crabbing on the sand dunes of Dillon Beach was by far the best time we had in our little bus. It really does bring back great memories.

So we’re actively making plans for a purchase (and subsequent sale of our current mommy-mobile). Now I am just trying get my lead foot to understand that “giving her all she’s got” means, we’re almost at 50 mph!

Oh, and I am also practicing my Spicoli-sounding version of, “Duuuuuuuuude.” I’m getting pretty good. It’s actually a little uncanny.