My home away from home, van style (Trip Part 2)

I know that the mind works in weird ways, our eyes wired to only see what we want to see, often missing what is often right in front of us, but I have never noticed how many VW Vanagons there were in Corvallis until I started my search for one. I had heard from many people of their mythical "collector" status and my various on-line searches through the annals of the ethernet proved to be confirming my worst fear, that I would be driving a van Fixed Or Repaired Daily rather than a trustworthy Volkswagen. Time was running out and the option and cost of flying to Mississippi to check out a rig sight unseen seemed out of the question. It turns out I was wrong, there were currently four for sale within twenty miles of my house here in Corvallis, all I had to do was open my eyes.

I had been searching for a Volkswagen Vanagon for a while, my attempt at free sponsorship denied by VW in a nice, yet empty form letter, "every day we receive e-mails of this sort, how do we decide who to help and who not to? So we tell all no". This sounds to me like a tremendous cop out, expected I guess from a company in the midst of the largest recession and lowest sales seen within the industry ever.

Thankfully my newly found vision turned up a Vanagon on Circle Blvd, a maroon '91 Carat with a rebuilt engine and a drive train fully under warranty for 6 months (both a must with Vanagons, as their engines tend to need a rebuild around 160,000 miles, and this one was trucking along with 182,000) but the cost was seemingly too high for a car 17 years old. Something about it drew me in, so much so that its owner, Alex, a tall ex-hippie trying hard to shed his youthful stubble while maintaining his love of organics probably grew tired of my endless questions and attempts at a lower price. Though the $7,000 cost was high, I knew that the car's resale value was not in question and the fold down bed and MP3 player stereo seemed perfect for my trip.



I came close many times to buying it, the decision turning over and over in my head, but lost all interest when I started looking at VW's Westfalia editions. Once I saw the Westy's pop up camper top that creates a twin bed from a seemingly empty space and the twin burner stove, sink and small fridge that would allow for coffee and frying pan sandwiches on foggy early mornings I was hooked. The whole set up reminds me of a dorm room on wheels, the van's interior even coming equipped with a desk to write on, all I would need is to rig a 12V converter off of a spare battery and the traveling home would be complete.

I looked at an '88 Westy out on 53rd, a beautiful gray van whose 20 years of age went unnoticed under a glossy coat of original paint. This particular van's sale was made necessary by a divorce created from an academic lifestyle rich in education but lacking in communication. As much as I loved the car, its $12,000 price tag was far above my reach and the thought of adding fire to an the already tense relationship between a battling couple quickly negated my interest.

I was beginning to lose hope, my fears of being forced to sacrifice quality or open my pocketbook wider than my means allowed loomed over me when I found it, my wheeled home away from home that was to become my refuge. I found my bed, kitchen, work desk and daily recliner all conveniently rolled into one, necessities needed for the three month travel across this vast and unknown nation I am leaving on in less than a month.

I found my future home in Albany, this cream and red box on wheels. It is a bit old, but it runs straight and tight and is in great shape for a vehicle created during a time when phones were rotary and rabbit ears didn't just apply to animals. On my test drive I was hooked as the joyful smile never left my lips as I rolled along the open back roads of Albany.

It took a few days, days filled with test drives and mechanics far more versed in the inner workings of aging autos before I agreed to commit, my mind thinking of the possible problems while my heart was screaming "buy" "buy". I bought the van from a nice Vietnamese man, Tuan, a motivated seller forced to part with a garage full of toys in order to make house payments, the victim of an economy that no longer allows lifestyles of excess.



He was asking $3,500, a high price for a vehicle 27 years old with rust and a whiny fuel pump, but these Westys are so highly sought after that I could probably put 30,000 miles on it during the trip and still resell it for over $5000. My only hesitation was the same battle that had been raging in me for years, a fear of commitment. If I bought this van there would be no going back, the open road would be my canvas, but the journey would be all mine and there would be no one to blame, to rely on, or to criticize except myself...

Thankfully I listened to my heart and bought my van. As fearful as I am about this trip, the daily thoughts of quiet, peaceful nights spent listening to the voices of the country and days of an endless but exciting journey of self reflection remind me of its importance. I am thankful my eyes were opened enough to see what was in front of me.