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Date:         Fri, 22 Dec 95 20:05:26 EST
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         William Gau <wmgau@nando.net>
Subject:      I Got my Xmas Present!!

I am, my dear listies, No longer a mere Wannabus.

I am now a Gottawesty!

I know that my life is changed forever. I know that I have been inducted into an elite group of elitists who, as propaganda says, do not merely drive a car, but have the pleasure of owning a Volkswagen.

(Sunday, December 17)

I originally flew out to Albuquerque to buy the ubiquitous `86 Westy Syncro (The Moose) which was advertised on this list last week, having searched high and low for a camper. The "custodian", Tom Brouillette, is the co-owner of _Roamin' Holiday_, a business in Albuquerque which rents VW Westys to unsuspecting tourists for the vacation of a lifetime (505-255-6611). He is also the editor of the newsletter (Old Bus Review) for NEATO.

He met me at the airport Sunday afternoon (after my 8 hour flight which took me through the winterwasteland Minnesota), and shortly thereafter I went over the `86 Westy Syncro with a fine-toothed comb. I found some things which concerned me, and he did a great job negotiating with the owner over an amended price.

All the while, I kept eyeing his ample collection of rental Westys. "Are any of those for sale," I asked, "everything's for sale!" he said. And I was magically drawn to a well-used `88 full Westy which was missing the rear hatch.

To make a long story short, we bargained over spicy Mexican omelettes at the "Frontier" restaurant and come to a reasonable agreement. The rest, as they say, is history, and for a pittance, I purchased (for mere money!) a way of life.

I headed out of Albuquerque just as the sun was setting on Monday, 18 December. I asked Tom if he'd come rescue me if the van broke down, "as long as you're still in the city limits!" I stopped off at the Wal-mart, not wanting to hit the open road without some tools. I bought a hex-head screw driver, a 6 inch adj. wrench, and a small Bonsai tree. What more could I possibly need??

I made it to the Texas Panhandle which was, you might remember, socked in with snow on last week. I missed the snow, but when I came rolling along I-40, I met with the legendary "black ice" the Panhandle is known for. After driving at 15mph for an hour or so, I started thinking about pulling off. It was about that time that I gave the old Westy a bit too much gas, and the laws of physics took over. Before I could sing the first verse of "Deutschland Uber Alles" I was doing 360s down an icy I-40. Quite miraculously, I wound up crossways in the fast lane, with half the camper in the median, the other half on the road.

Only after collecting my wits was I able to actually nurse it back on the road, despite all odds (and gravity), and I immediately took the next exit.

I parked in a truck stop next to a `67 Split Window conversion of some sort, which had a rather impressive paint scheme which said something like "The Circus of Love." I promptly fell asleep and the next morning chatted with the owner, a young man in dreadlocks (accompanied by a rosy-cheeked girl of no more than fifteen years) who introduced himself as Jacob. He was, he said, part of some glorious VW caravan which was heading to Philly. He was separated, he said, somewhere along the line and thus was on his own. He too, had spun out on the expressway and exited at the first opportunity.

Ahh, Brother! We are, I told him, cut of the same cloth, spawned by the same mother, members of the same secret society which mere motorists could not even begin to comprehend (or acknowledge, for that matter). He didn't quite understand what I meant, but was willing to warm up in my van nevertheless.

He took a tour of my new Westy and couldn't believe how nice it was. His was, (as one would expect), a rolling den of iniquity and I offered to trade, assuming he'd continue to my home, and support my wife and continue in my stead at my place of employment.

I would get, naturally, the split window and the run-a-way girl.

He wasn't interested.

Ahhh, the glory of the road trip! There really must be some nomadic instinct in all of us which encourages such things. Discussions at the truckstop urinals is always the same: "Which way you headin'?" "How much snow you come through comin' that way??" "How far ya got to go?"

There truly exists a fellowship of the road.

So needless to say I came rolling in to Durham, North Carolina about 2 1/2 days later, a very happy man. Thanks again to Tom, ye olde list, and all of you jokers who have helped me select my first camper. I'm sure there will be several to follow. I know Tom thought I was a nut. He's like, "you've never been in a camper before??" Nope, but I know what I want, dammit!!

Regards,

William Gau `88 Westy (Bob) `72 Bavaria (Fritz)


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