Date:         Tue, 05 Sep 1995 11:25:10 -0400
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         Tom Curbishley <tom%cdi@Princeton.EDU>
Subject:      What a long strange trip it's been

Hi!

Well, I'm back and I feel a bit like Ulysses or Jason. The bus is fine, I am
fine, and the trip(s) was(were) great.

Here's the story:

Cheryl and I set out for New England with an eye to B&P (Bread and 
Puppets) as our final
destination, as you know. We visited folks in Conn. and Maine, sailed, and
drove around Maine and New Hampshire. We camped in some really cool State
parks with awesome hiking trails (that we failed to hike on, but there's
always next year), and generally buzzed up hill and down dale with nothing
but good vibes coming from the back end of the bus. The engine sang, cool as
a cucumber, happy as can be in the cool New England air. The transmission
shifted smoothly and did what you'd expect a transmission to do. Until
Burke, that is, some twenty minutes from our final campground. With no
warning, no funny noise, no bang, no idiot light, not so much as a hint of
trouble, the engine raced and the bus began to coast. We didn't know it
then, but the ATF pump had broken into pieces. It was smoother than shifting
into neutral, with an identical effect.

Now, at this point I could complain about being stuck, far from home. About
needing to be towed, staying a night in a hotel, renting a car for two days,
and arranging for repair in a strange and far away land. I could complain
about the extra days of vacation I had to burn while waiting for _the rest
of_ the parts to be sent from California (the fist shipment was incomplete -
sound familiar?), and about the expense of the repair.

But I really can't.

In true VW style, the bus broke down on this deserted back road some _fifty
feet_ from a roadside maple syrup stand run by a very nice woman who
happened to know the name and phone number of a reliable local transmission
mechanic and tow truck operator. Carroll Sherburne, his son, and his dog
arrived in under 15 minutes and towed us to his garage, where he surveyed
the damage to the transmission. He was super nice and since his workload was
too great to allow him to help us quickly, he helped us find another good
shop in a nearby town. He even took the bus there after driving us to a
local hotel.

Cheryl and I had everything we needed to camp, except a tent, and we were
within spitting distance from Will-O-Wood campground, our intended
destination. So we rented a car, drove to the garage to check on the bus,
retrieved the camping gear, bought a tent (the same model that I was going
to get anyway, and it was on sale!), and set up camp at Will-O-Wood. Pete
arrived just before we did and offered to drive us around. So we returned
the rental car. We camped, went to Bread and Puppets, and generally hung out
in the cradle of the Green Mountains.

It didn't suck.

Pre-opening school duties forced Cheryl to return home before the repairs
were complete on the bus. We determined that I would stay and wait, and that
Cheryl would head home with Pete to New Haven and then catch a train into
Princeton. They left me to fend for myself, to survive the best I could, to
root and forrage, to hunt and gather, to live by wits alone in the
wilderness. Of course, survival in this particular piece of wilderness
consisted of a morning stroll down to the Country Comfort diner for eggs and
coffee, a bit of hiking around Lake Willoughby (you were there: remember the
foggy cliffs on the Anchor House ride in '91?), reading, working on my
lines, starting the campfire in the evening, and drinking cocoa under a
myriad stars.

On Thursday, the repairs were complete and I braced for the bad news. I knew
that at home mechanics' labor rates were from $60-$80 per hour. Who knows
what parts would be? Well, Ray and his son told me (after the fact) that
this was the first VW trans that they had worked on and it may have taken
them a little longer to get familiar with it, so they were going to give me
a break on the price. Now having watched them work, I feel that these guys
are top-notch mechanics, and the this trans is now _at least_ as good as
new. They didn't charge me their _usual_ rate of $40 per hour, but charged
only $30 per hour! If I had broken down at home, the whole repair would
probably have cost me _double_ what it did up there. If I had tried to do it
myself, it probably still would have cost more.

So, in retrospect, if the transmission had to fail and if I had to fix it,
the bus chose a spot to fail that: let me continue with my vacation plans,
forced me to spend a few very enjoyable extra days in the woods, and saved
me a small fortune! Thanks to the Fates, and hooray for busses!

I got home at 3am Friday, slept, went to work, came home, packed up the bus
again, and headed out to Hyner View, PA to do some hang gliding. It was a
great weekend. I saw many old friends, swam in the river, and did some great
flying. I even had a short flight that took me higher than I've ever gone at
Hyner: 1100 feet above launch (2400 feet above the landing field). I'm still
smiling.

What a trip it's been! All told, an excellent adventure!

Your friend and blood relative,
Tom