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Date:         Tue, 27 Jun 1995 09:55:52 -0700 (PDT)
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         Steve Johnson <sjohnson@pcocd2.intel.com>
Subject:      The Bodega Incident - Part 1  Bugs and Brakes

The Bodega Incident - Part 1 Bugs and Brakes

It had been a tough day of work. I was trying desperately to get my work done and take off for a trip. A very important trip. By accident, I was tipped off by monitoring a computer mailing list that goes by the name vanagon@lenti. By infiltrating this list, I was able to actually correspond and eventually convince some of the people on it to let me participate in one of there camping experiences. I had already been on a couple of these excursions and they had been, at the very least, quite peculiar and yet exciting at the same time. This strange gathering of people is quite capable of bizarre behavior. I can't describe the madness some of these people exhibit when they are at these gatherings. I can only explain in a written fashion what I've seen and experienced and try to draw some kind of solution from it.

I finally finished up the last of the work I was doing and headed out the door from work and hopped into my already partially loaded van. My van is a 1991 Vanagon Camper. I try to keep it as trip ready as possible so that when these events pop up, I can be ready to go at a moments notice. Well, as it happens, my home was actually on the way to this trip. Also, two of the people that were participating in this event were also coming from my locale and I had convinced them that it would be better if we caravan to the destination. So I stopped at my house and picked up the food stuffs that I needed. My wife, who was with me on the first trip, could not go but helped me with the last minute preparations. So we said our good-byes and I headed out for the gas station and appointed spot where I was to meet the two people.

After about a 15 minute wait they pulled up in a sweet looking two-tone (white on sky blue) '56 VW camper. I guess I should mention right here and now, the only vehicles the people I was meeting with drive VW Vans exclusively. This is one of the many strange things about the group, but I think there is a purpose to this. I mean, I drive one myself for convenience as it meets my needs where-ever I go. This may or may not explain why the people I would meet with that weekend also owned them, but I think it's possible. I will continue and maybe some clarification can be made as I go along.

So, Thom and Amy, the names of the people I'd be caravaning with, pulled into the parking lot of the small cafe and hopped out and we talked of the trip to come and Thom showed me some improvements he made to the van. As it was after 7:00PM, I wanted to get going, so they went over to the gas station and filled up and we were on our way.

Out on the freeway we were moving along at 55 - 60 miles per hour, depending on whose speedometer you were looking at. The traffic wasn't too bad as we avoided and parried with other drivers trying to merge and with big riggs stirring up turbulence that nearly lifted the '56 off the ground.

One thing I noticed was the center brake light for Thom's '56, which I learned later was the only brake light, was not functioning properly. It would seem to flash on and off at random. This was kind of annoying and it was difficult sometimes to ignore it. We made it over the Yolo causeway and were cruising by Davis or maybe it was Dixon when I observed an arm come out of the '56 and a hand indicating that Thom wanted to pull off at the next exit. I think his hand was more visible than his turn signals would have been. The small indicators were only driving lights and next to the glaring brake light, they were quite in- visible. When we came to a stop on the other side of the freeway, we got out and he complained of being cold and pulled on a wrap and checked the temperature of the oil dipstick. He said it passed the "Muir" test. I mentioned the brake light was not working and he said it was probably due to the excess pressure in the brake lines and that it couldn't be helped. I thought that it was an okay excuse and that it would have to do.

As a side note, I had a near miss with another car that was barreling down the road as I tried to make a U turn. After giving myself the one- minute verbal thrashing for not being more careful, I finally had a chance to pull out and turn around and catch up with Thom. It was not to hard to find him as the red glow from the rear of his van was easy to see.

We were moving along nicely along I-80 without any problems. However the brake light kept being an annoyance and I had to be diligent in watching other things besides it. I looked at the landscape and various other landmarks but it was getting quite dark and the other distractions became less and less available. I began to wonder if this wasn't some sort of trick he was playing on me and that maybe he had a switch in his car. Or could this be some sort of hypnotic device for me to be entranced with?

We took the two lane Highway 37 exit at Vallejo and drove through the town. As we approached a signaled intersection, Thom pulled into a gas station. We decided to switch places and that I would lead through the Highway 37 trek to Petaluma. We headed out of town and proceeded through the rice field marshy area with mosquitos by the millions splattering the front of our vans for mile after mile. The mess on my windshield could've fed a family of five. I needed to sort of keep an eye on Thom and Amy to make sure they were keeping up with me as I only roughly knew how fast I should go. As they would get further and further back, I'd slow down and then sometimes they would seemingly be right on my tail so I would pick up the pace. Being the lead vehicle is kind of tough because you don't want to go too fast for the follower, but you don't want to go too slow because of the traffic following behind on the two lane highway.

We crossed over a high expansive bridge that traversed a large body of water and as we came down the other side I noticed a traffic light ahead. As I wasn't sure exactly where our next turn was, I slowed so that I if I needed to make a turn, I wouldn't be going too fast. When I got close enough to distinguish the name of the road, I realized that it was not the one I wanted and started to speed up to go through the intersection as the light was still green. It was at that time that I noticed Thom flashing his headlights at me as he made the turn that I had just passed and was by then already going through the intersection. I thought, "What the heck is he going that way for?" "Does he know of another short-cut?" When I slowed down I saw that there was a divider and there was no way for me to turn around and go back. I hesitated for a few moments and decided to go ahead to the next possible place to turn around. So I moved ahead and hoped that they would be still there when I got back. About 3 miles down the highway I came to a light which was actually the turn we wanted to make on the next leg of the journey. I turned it around and came back to the previous intersection and saw that Thom and Amy were stopped along the exit from Highway 37.

When I got out, Thom was already out and I asked what was up. He had a glint in his eyes and said he had lost the brakes coming down the bridge we had just come over and it turned out that the passenger side rear cylinder had blown out it's piston. So he clamped the brake line with some vise grips ("Call me McGiver", he says) and so we could continued on.

We moved out and got the next turn to Petaluma and meandered along the road and finally made it into town. Somewhere along the way Thom got in front and he drove on to Highway 101 and headed north. The first exit I saw a sign that said that the road to Bodega Bay was that exit. I thought that the exit I wanted was further north and by pulling into the left lane, I let Thom know that I didn't want that exit. But the more I thought about it, I was figuring that that road may have been the one I wanted because the short cut had taken us further north. So I decided to stop and a quick discussion made the decision for us to turn around and take that previous route. We got back on the highway and made the exit and slowly cruised through the main street in Petaluma.

The lights that glowed in the town gave it an old world charm as we moved slowly by old homes and shops along the street. The lights were less frequent and the town gradually became sparser and soon we were on a lonely road again with occasional indications that we were on the right road to Bodega Bay. I was getting pretty tired and sometimes it was difficult to judge the bends in the road especially if oncoming traffic was there. The lights would sometimes be aimed high if they were coming uphill and I would not be able to see the bend at all. So I drove conservatively and I'm sure Thom appreciated that even though we had a few cars behind us, they were able to pass now and then.

The road became more and more windy and hilly and I was getting more tired. It was around 11:30PM Finally, I saw signs that indicated that Bodega Bay was a few miles away. Not long after, the buildings of Bodega appeared. I was looking for a specific turn on to Highway 1, but it never appeared. Somehow, I ended up on Highway 1 without having to make any kind of turn. How did this happen? Had I been mezmorized by Thom's brake light? I didn't know for sure, but I knew something wasn't right.

I continued on and thought we had about 10 miles to go when after a mile or so of the windy coastline drive, I saw a sign for Sonoma Coast Beach. I thought, that couldn't be it, this was way too soon. I hesitated a bit and drove further. I decided to stop behind some people who were stopped on the side of the road. Thom came up and said that he thought the place back a ways was it. We asked on of the young ladies who had a bottle of wine in her hand if she knew where the camp ground was that we wanted. After wading through several feet of her liquored fumes, I determined that we weren't going to get a good answer from her. Thom insisted that we go back and I was too tired to argue and thought he was probably right, so we got turned around and headed back to the Sonoma Beach entrance.

We meandered down the road and Thom stopped at the rangers office and waited for the ranger inside to register him. The guy finally looked up and pointed to the sign that said the office had closed at 9:00pm and that we could validate our sites in the morning.

Thom pulled ahead and I stopped for a short bit and looked at the sign and pulled in after Thom. We got to the first group of sights and meandered through and didn't see anyone we knew so we exited the first loop and got to an overflow area, looped around it and headed further up the road where we found another set of campsites. It just then occured to me that we had site numbers and I remembered that ours was in the 70's. On one of the signs pointing out camp sites, the 70's number fell into that range. So we took that trail and found the site we were to be sharing.

There was an eerie feeling about the site. A strange intense white glow was eminating from deep within it. I couldn't imagine what was going on. There were some shadows moving from and around the bright light. Some were coming toward us. I wasn't so sure I wanted to get out of the van. But I was tired and didn't really have much choice. Should I chance getting out or should I push myself and escape while I could? I couldn't decide. The beings from the site were getting closer and closer.

To be continued...........

Steven

sjohnson@pcocd2.intel.com


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