The great VW adventure

[Bigland]

THE GREAT VOLKSWAGEN ADVENTURES

It all started when we were refinishing and moving a lot of furniture. We figured a used 60’s VW mini-van would be perfect for moving things and camping out. Oh boy, family activities. Sooner or later it gets cold in Minnesota, and that was the appropriate time for us to turn on the heater. Nothing, zip, diddley. The heat felt like a pet mouse blowing on your hands. We dressed for winter and scraped both the inside and outside of the windows. Eventually winter ended and.…
One summer day we were tooling along and smoke started to billow out the tailpipe. It got so bad, we had to have the van towed to a shop. The engine sucked in a valve and had to be rebuilt. We got it back just in time for a family trip to Duluth.
I’m cruising up the highway with cars flying by like I accidentally pulled out onto a Le Mans test track. All of a sudden lights come on; the highway patrol pulls us over. I suspect we’re the only ones he could catch but smile and get out. “What’s the problem officer?” I ask.
“You were doing sixty five in a sixty zone, Sir,” he replies.
Cars passing blow his hat off and he stoops to pick it up. This gives me a second to think.
“I’m sorry officer,” I say. “I couldn’t help it. We just had the engine rebuilt and I couldn’t resist opening it up once just to see what she could do.”
He stands there with one hand on his hat as cars pass at seventy five or eighty and my excuse is not lost on him.
“Well,” he says. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time but slow it down.”
He takes off smiling and we wait half an hour for a gap in traffic big enough for the old VW to get up to speed.
Now is a good time to mention that B.J. is a backseat driver. Actually she is the Midwest distributor of annoying backseat interruptions. If you wish to order some I think she has a website.
I am weak and sometimes can’t resist the temptation to tease the beast. We are in Duluth a city of steep hills on Lake Superior. The hills are not as high as say San Francisco but every bit as steep. We turn a corner and below us appears, twenty blocks of straight down.
I lift my right foot and put it on the clutch instead of the brake. When the backseat driver looks down to make sure of my driving, I push it down several times as if the brakes have gone out. Ditsy brain doesn’t count pedals or suspect mischief. Ditsy brain skips directly to a scenario that ends in broken bodies and twisted metal.
Her hands fly out to dig into the dashboard; her feet brace themselves. My laughing brings on a crazy look rather than suspicion. I step on the brake and shift down. Slowly the story becomes clear and I get such a hit on the arm the black and blue bruise might still be there.

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