PRE-SEASON: (my kid & teen years)
From the time I was a small kid -- dreaming as I swayed back and forth high above the ground in our backyard swing -- I imagined traveling all over America in a small airplane or a balloon, believing someday I would do so. The concept was born when I was in kindergarten. Just before rest time, our teacher, Miss Perry, read us a story about a boy and girl playing in their sandbox. The two of them found a wishbone in the sand and made a wish that their sandbox could fly. When the wish came true, they were so delighted and flew their sandbox -- steering it with the wishbone -- to some wonderful adventures before returning home. I never forgot that story, because their "sandbox" became my life's dream!
But the flying concept changed to something far more realistic in the late 1960s, when as a teenager, I picked up a magazine that contained a story about Volkswagon's new camper bus with several pages of beautiful full-color pictures of it, both inside and out, displaying every detail.
Wow! That had to be my answer; not an airplane, not a balloon, but a Volkswagon camper bus! I wanted one SO badly! Begged my parents for one. But they didn't think I was old enough.
And they were right. How could I, a teenager, go about acquiring something like that? How could I think of paying for something like that? I didn't even have a job, being still in high school. So the concept remained only a dream, a dream that continued growing stronger every day because I never stopped thinking about it, never stopped longing for it.
SEASON ONE: (my twenties)
I was barely 21 when my life-long dream first came true. I met Chris and Ron Kirshnick and their baby girl who lived in a school bus as their home. They had come from the Haight-Ashbury district of San Fransico, California, where they had been instigators of the now-famous hippy movement, with plenty of stories to tell me. They also listened to my stories, and understanding my dream, offered to sell me their bus! (What unbelievable good fortune!) In a couple of days I was able to give them an enthusiastic "Yes!", because even though my parents were totally "thumbs down" about it, I had a great friend named Bob Lawrence, who offered to give me a loan through his credit union, which I of course accepted. So I bought Ron's bus for $1,800, which was well worth every penny. The bus then became my home, year, after year, after year; and I loved every minute in my bus, Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall! My childhood dream had fully come true!
There are so many stories I could tell about life in what I simply called "The Bus". One adventure was when the Jet Stream hit the mountain peaks and bent downward just north of Boulder, CO where I was staying at the time, and blew an entire trailer park away (which fortunately the local sheriff had already evacuated). I was downwind of the trailer park and furnishings were hitting The Bus as they sailed by. Even a couple of bathtubs sailed past the door, end over end as I watched. When I let my dog Corky out to pee, I had a great laugh as the wind kept rolling Corky over and over sideways, making two or three complete roles each time she fell. She wasn't bothered though, jumping right back up to try again, fail again, try again; almost like she enjoyed it. One gust was measured at nearly 250 MPH, as stated the next morning on the Paul Harvey News Hour.
(And that 250 MPH gust being reported nationwide, caused Bellingham to change their policy on reporting winds. They no longer release the top gust speeds, only reporting sustained wind speeds. This change was due to concerns about chasing away tourists, new home builders, and other business adventures, as people became fearful of the wind.)
But I remember that 250 MPH blast specifically, because it shook The Bus so violently from side to side more than any other, concerning me that it might flip over even though I'd intentionally pointed the nose of The Bus straight into the wind for safety! After it was over, the only damage to The Bus was that the windshield was quite noticeably sandblasted. It had tiny scratches in the glass everywhere that made it slightly "frosted". Dang! Wish I'd put the tail into the wind instead of the nose! Sandblasting the rear windows would have been a lot less noticeable.
And yes, this picture is an exact twin of my bus. It's the same year and model, a 1954 International Harvester. When I bought her she had new Michelin tires and a rebuilt engine that got 9-12 MPG due to being small. That was good mileage for a large bus, but the small engine also meant I couldn't quite reach 45 MPH due to headwind resistance. Life was an endless adventure, so I didn't mind.
I feel mixed emotions about seeing her in this picture, my gosh I want her back! I made the mistake of trusting a close blood relative who asked me to put the title in their name so they could add her to the vehicles on their insurance policy for a much lower rate, saving me quite a few ($$$). They told me, "Don't worry. I'm not going to sell it out from under you." And they kept that promise because while I was out of town, they didn't sell her, they gave her away to a Boy Scout troop; or at least that's what I was told. So very sad for me. I have never trusted any "family" member since.
Did you see the movie "Into The Wild"? It's the story of Chris McCandless who lived in his bus until he died there, deep in the Alaskan wilderness. His story and his bus became so famous that people were losing their lives in the wilderness while on their pilgrimage to reach what became known as "The Magic Bus". Some would get lost in the forest, or drown while crossing the river, or even freeze to death in a storm. So eventually, the Alaskan government asked the coast guard to secretly fly in a HUGE helicopter to airlift "The Bus" many miles away to an undisclosed location in an effort to prevent more pilgrims from dying in their determined efforts to reach the famous bus.
This was done secretly to prevent the public from having a chance to stop such a move through the courts. So bye-bye old friend! We're all going to miss you! I sadly watch this little video, realizing it's the same thing that happened to my bus, also in secret. Even the paint on Chris' bus is about the same as the paint I put on mine. So again I say (with feeling), "Bye-bye old friend!"
SEASON TWO (my thirties):
My second van wasn't really a "van" either. It was a blue-gray SAAB identical to the one below. I named her my "Super Mini Micro Bus", a name which made people laugh when I told them. I tore out the back seat in order to lay a very comfortable cotton mattress all the way from the front seat (moved all the way forward) to the very back of the trunk, which fit perfectly, giving me plenty of room to stretch out in total comfort. I drove "Super Mini Micro Bus" up logging roads deep into the forests of the Olympic Peninsula in WA to sleep alone in woodsy wilderness. (What could be more perfect?) It had a V4 engine which was really short and cute, allowing front-wheel drive. I had a lot of adventures in "Super Mini Micro Bus" just as I had years before in my full-sized bus. Here is one adventure:
I used to visit the neighboring Indian reservation at La Push, WA by skipping "Super Mini Micro Bus" like a stone across the river. It had a sealed bottom so not difficult to do. One time, an Indian came running over and yelled, "Hey! Is that one of those amphibians?" "No", I answered laughing. "Well how did you sail it across the river like that? That was amazing!" I felt so proud.
But eventually, it didn't end well. The final time I attempted to cross the river, I hit something hard, (perhaps an unseen boulder?) right in the middle of the river. "Super Mini Micro Bus" stopped abruptly with a "clunk!", and then sank! Unbelievable, she actually took on water and sank! Several Indians came running to the rescue, wading into the water with logs and sticks and.... (Oh my. I'm not going to tell more. Too emotional.)
Rest in peace, dear "Super Mini Micro Bus". She had certainly shared some great adventures with me, some of them making me very proud, and others were SO INCREDIBLY STUPID I'd be too embarrassed to ever tell... But by golly, she did it all, everything I tried, motor loudly purring without an ounce of fear. ...and every time she was two-thumbs-up victorious!
"Super Mini Micro Bus" will never be forgotten, nor will her bravery.
From the time I was a small kid -- dreaming as I swayed back and forth high above the ground in our backyard swing -- I imagined traveling all over America in a small airplane or a balloon, believing someday I would do so. The concept was born when I was in kindergarten. Just before rest time, our teacher, Miss Perry, read us a story about a boy and girl playing in their sandbox. The two of them found a wishbone in the sand and made a wish that their sandbox could fly. When the wish came true, they were so delighted and flew their sandbox -- steering it with the wishbone -- to some wonderful adventures before returning home. I never forgot that story, because their "sandbox" became my life's dream!
But the flying concept changed to something far more realistic in the late 1960s, when as a teenager, I picked up a magazine that contained a story about Volkswagon's new camper bus with several pages of beautiful full-color pictures of it, both inside and out, displaying every detail.
Wow! That had to be my answer; not an airplane, not a balloon, but a Volkswagon camper bus! I wanted one SO badly! Begged my parents for one. But they didn't think I was old enough.
And they were right. How could I, a teenager, go about acquiring something like that? How could I think of paying for something like that? I didn't even have a job, being still in high school. So the concept remained only a dream, a dream that continued growing stronger every day because I never stopped thinking about it, never stopped longing for it.
SEASON ONE: (my twenties)
I was barely 21 when my life-long dream first came true. I met Chris and Ron Kirshnick and their baby girl who lived in a school bus as their home. They had come from the Haight-Ashbury district of San Fransico, California, where they had been instigators of the now-famous hippy movement, with plenty of stories to tell me. They also listened to my stories, and understanding my dream, offered to sell me their bus! (What unbelievable good fortune!) In a couple of days I was able to give them an enthusiastic "Yes!", because even though my parents were totally "thumbs down" about it, I had a great friend named Bob Lawrence, who offered to give me a loan through his credit union, which I of course accepted. So I bought Ron's bus for $1,800, which was well worth every penny. The bus then became my home, year, after year, after year; and I loved every minute in my bus, Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall! My childhood dream had fully come true!
There are so many stories I could tell about life in what I simply called "The Bus". One adventure was when the Jet Stream hit the mountain peaks and bent downward just north of Boulder, CO where I was staying at the time, and blew an entire trailer park away (which fortunately the local sheriff had already evacuated). I was downwind of the trailer park and furnishings were hitting The Bus as they sailed by. Even a couple of bathtubs sailed past the door, end over end as I watched. When I let my dog Corky out to pee, I had a great laugh as the wind kept rolling Corky over and over sideways, making two or three complete roles each time she fell. She wasn't bothered though, jumping right back up to try again, fail again, try again; almost like she enjoyed it. One gust was measured at nearly 250 MPH, as stated the next morning on the Paul Harvey News Hour.
(And that 250 MPH gust being reported nationwide, caused Bellingham to change their policy on reporting winds. They no longer release the top gust speeds, only reporting sustained wind speeds. This change was due to concerns about chasing away tourists, new home builders, and other business adventures, as people became fearful of the wind.)
But I remember that 250 MPH blast specifically, because it shook The Bus so violently from side to side more than any other, concerning me that it might flip over even though I'd intentionally pointed the nose of The Bus straight into the wind for safety! After it was over, the only damage to The Bus was that the windshield was quite noticeably sandblasted. It had tiny scratches in the glass everywhere that made it slightly "frosted". Dang! Wish I'd put the tail into the wind instead of the nose! Sandblasting the rear windows would have been a lot less noticeable.
And yes, this picture is an exact twin of my bus. It's the same year and model, a 1954 International Harvester. When I bought her she had new Michelin tires and a rebuilt engine that got 9-12 MPG due to being small. That was good mileage for a large bus, but the small engine also meant I couldn't quite reach 45 MPH due to headwind resistance. Life was an endless adventure, so I didn't mind.
I feel mixed emotions about seeing her in this picture, my gosh I want her back! I made the mistake of trusting a close blood relative who asked me to put the title in their name so they could add her to the vehicles on their insurance policy for a much lower rate, saving me quite a few ($$$). They told me, "Don't worry. I'm not going to sell it out from under you." And they kept that promise because while I was out of town, they didn't sell her, they gave her away to a Boy Scout troop; or at least that's what I was told. So very sad for me. I have never trusted any "family" member since.
Did you see the movie "Into The Wild"? It's the story of Chris McCandless who lived in his bus until he died there, deep in the Alaskan wilderness. His story and his bus became so famous that people were losing their lives in the wilderness while on their pilgrimage to reach what became known as "The Magic Bus". Some would get lost in the forest, or drown while crossing the river, or even freeze to death in a storm. So eventually, the Alaskan government asked the coast guard to secretly fly in a HUGE helicopter to airlift "The Bus" many miles away to an undisclosed location in an effort to prevent more pilgrims from dying in their determined efforts to reach the famous bus.
This was done secretly to prevent the public from having a chance to stop such a move through the courts. So bye-bye old friend! We're all going to miss you! I sadly watch this little video, realizing it's the same thing that happened to my bus, also in secret. Even the paint on Chris' bus is about the same as the paint I put on mine. So again I say (with feeling), "Bye-bye old friend!"
SEASON TWO (my thirties):
My second van wasn't really a "van" either. It was a blue-gray SAAB identical to the one below. I named her my "Super Mini Micro Bus", a name which made people laugh when I told them. I tore out the back seat in order to lay a very comfortable cotton mattress all the way from the front seat (moved all the way forward) to the very back of the trunk, which fit perfectly, giving me plenty of room to stretch out in total comfort. I drove "Super Mini Micro Bus" up logging roads deep into the forests of the Olympic Peninsula in WA to sleep alone in woodsy wilderness. (What could be more perfect?) It had a V4 engine which was really short and cute, allowing front-wheel drive. I had a lot of adventures in "Super Mini Micro Bus" just as I had years before in my full-sized bus. Here is one adventure:
I used to visit the neighboring Indian reservation at La Push, WA by skipping "Super Mini Micro Bus" like a stone across the river. It had a sealed bottom so not difficult to do. One time, an Indian came running over and yelled, "Hey! Is that one of those amphibians?" "No", I answered laughing. "Well how did you sail it across the river like that? That was amazing!" I felt so proud.
But eventually, it didn't end well. The final time I attempted to cross the river, I hit something hard, (perhaps an unseen boulder?) right in the middle of the river. "Super Mini Micro Bus" stopped abruptly with a "clunk!", and then sank! Unbelievable, she actually took on water and sank! Several Indians came running to the rescue, wading into the water with logs and sticks and.... (Oh my. I'm not going to tell more. Too emotional.)
Rest in peace, dear "Super Mini Micro Bus". She had certainly shared some great adventures with me, some of them making me very proud, and others were SO INCREDIBLY STUPID I'd be too embarrassed to ever tell... But by golly, she did it all, everything I tried, motor loudly purring without an ounce of fear. ...and every time she was two-thumbs-up victorious!
"Super Mini Micro Bus" will never be forgotten, nor will her bravery.
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