Date: Tue, 12 Dec 1995 09:23:14 -0600 (CST)
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From: jbrill@unlinfo.unl.edu (James Brill)
Subject: F/ Bus sighting story
I just had to pass this little story along. Sunday I was running some
errands in my '71 bus. Even with it's new and improved Weber powered
1600 it is little or no match for just about anything else on the
road. One particular road is something of a bench mark for the motor.
It has a hill that is not terribly steep but about two blocks long.
If I don't time the light I have to take this hill from a standing
start. The old motor would only do this hill in second, near the
redline. The new one will pull it quite easily in third once I get
the revs up in second. All of this is, of course, still much slower
than your average econobox.
Sunday I started up this hill and was working through the gears.
About half way up the hill I was readying for the lighting shift into
third when I noticed a Mercedes in my mirror. Actually, I watch my
mirror often. Defensive rear end driving. This guy in the MB had the
Don Garlits factor going big time, neck flipping back and forth
checking his mirrors for the first chance he has to get around this
obstruction. He finally got over a lane about the time I got into
third and really started to accelerate. I did manage to stay with him
up the rest of the incline. In fact, he stayed a little behind and
left of me. Several blocks later he was still behind me and I wanted
the left lane. I gave it a little more gas, pushing me past the speed
limit and took the left lane. I didn't think I had crowded him. He
changed into the right lane. Oh well, I am used to this kind of
behavior. We are all aware of this type of driver. They would
sooner die than drive behind a big box on wheels.
Another mile or so down the road we both finally got stopped by the
same light. Heather noticed that this guy in the MB was sitting next
to us with a stupid grin on his face and his window down, strange
behavior for 5 degree weather. She carefully rolled down the window
expecting the worst. Then the guy yelled, "Hey, that's my old van!,
etc." He couldn't believe it was still running... We exchanged all
we could in the ten seconds we had. He seemed curious that I didn't
look like the guy he sold it to. I yelled about buying it from a
friend and so forth. Our ten seconds was over too quickly and I had
to drive away. I didn't get a chance to tell him about the new motor,
the plans to tour the world, all the blood sweat and tears. It did
give me a very good feeling, though.
The bad part came later. About three blocks up the street. It dawned
on me then. This was the guy with a box in his garage. Somewhere,
high on a dusty shelf he had a box. Up high above where the MB now
parks sits a box with several strange looking pieces of metal. These
are pieces of engine tin, oil cooler parts, etc. These are the pieces
that I wrenched and tore from junkyards and mail order places for
about six weeks this summer, looking to make a fully operating cooling
system in stock form for a '71 bus. This was the man whose existance
I loathed for the better part of six weeks, sitting alone in a sweaty
pool covered with grease. I had nothing more than a few inadequate
pictures and a couple of computer printouts to figure out what was
missing from my motor. If I could have gotten my hands around the
neck of this guy sometime in the middle of August our encounter would
have been much less friendly. Yes, it is still running buddy, little
thanks to you. You gave up on it once. Lucky for you I didn't get
your plate number...
--
James A. Brill Jr. \\ //
jbrill@unlinfo.unl.edu \\ \\// // If you're not outraged
University of Nebraska \\//\\// you're not paying attention.
free-lance homo sapien \/ \/
--
James A. Brill Jr. \\ //
jbrill@unlinfo.unl.edu \\ \\// // If you're not outraged
University of Nebraska \\//\\// you're not paying attention.
free-lance homo sapien \/ \/
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