Road Trips, Caravans & Cruising

[louisb]

I know a lot of the clubs from the '60s and '70s used to have caravans and cruises. Others here I know are into road trips. (Or is that driving down the road while tripping.)  How about some stories about driving your VWs either with your club, other VWs or just cruising solo.

--louis

[Donny B.]

In 1995 Wolfsburg Registry organized a caravan to the Classic.  Not all the cars were from our club and a number of people drove rentals, but when we arrived at the Bergs we had 28 cars and Gene came out and took pictures.  I was lucky enough to get a picture of my car in their catalog.

[Jim Ratto]

I know a lot of the clubs from the '60s and '70s used to have caravans and cruises. Others here I know are into road trips. (Or is that driving down the road while tripping.)  How about some stories about driving your VWs either with your club, other VWs or just cruising solo.

--louis

Hi louisb, I think I have some stories right up your alligator alley. Long though...sorry

Back Nov 1995, our Cal Look VW club was really into caravans and road trips and so on. One of the most intense and one of my favorite trips was our weekend trip from SF/Bay Area to Death Valley in CA, about 650 miles away. The entire club wasn't interested in going, so only two of our cars went, my ex-girlfriend's '72 Super Beetle and our friend's 1965 Westfalia with 1914cc power. The bus' owner Sean, Bryan SODA, Chris "upside down" F., my girlfriend hippie and I made the trip in the two VW's. We left the Livermore area around 1pm on Friday and headed down interstate 5 to Bakersfield area. We cut over on CA178 up into the Lake Isabella area, and eventually out into the desert near China Lake etc. Once into the desert it was much past nightfall, and every once in awhile, our headlights would flare up the shillouette of a patch of Joshua trees....probably the freakiest looking plants on Earth. Our buddy Sean would kind of jump every time he saw one. "those things look like they want to eat us."
Around 11pm or so we finally reached the junction at Olancha, where 395 and 190 meet....and you'd take 190 east into Death Valley. Every once in awhile we'd stop and get out to have a beer or cough cough....and just take in the vastness and silence of the desert night. The sky and stars seemed like it was just over our foreheads, the stars looked as it you could just reach up and wrap your hands around them. And the wind was completely different than the wimpy breezes we had in the Bay Area.....it carried rocks, sand and your car with it out there. Onward east we headed, through Panamint springs and over the Panamint Mountains....and soon the bus began to slow waaaay down. Yeah, we were up in elevation, and his carbs were jetted for sea level, but this was beyond jet running fat. It almost wouldn't run! A 1am tune up in the desert...just want we wanted. We pulled off the shoulder of 190, almost at summit, and cranked the engine hatch open. Carb linkage fall off? Nope...both carbs were opening fully. Plug wire come loose? Nope all 4 snug tight. Distributor coming out of case? Nope. Alright, check fuel pump output...go crank it Sean....spurt...we got plenty of fuel. Ended up the rubbing block on the points went away and the gap shut to zero. We threw some new points at it, gapped it, and up we went. An hour later we rolled past the Stovepipe Wells watering hole and were in bad need of rest. Another half hour to the campground that I "hoped" was open....
No such luck. We got into Furnace Creek campground and sign read "FULL." Nuts. Up the hill was another less luxurious campground, Texas Springs...our next stop. I was getting tired and grumpy. The campground was full too, but we found an empty "space" between two campspots and our cars just fit in. We parked, opened the cooler, each had a much deserved icy beer, and got our sleeping crap out. I was so tired I didn't want to hassle with a tent and all, so I just dug a pit in the sand, laid my sleeping bag in it and I was out.

It seemed I had just bundled up in the sandbed and no sooner was I awakened by a boot to my head...literally. A park ranger had found our illegal campspot and wanted us up and out. It was 6:30am. no coffee, nothing...just pack up and get OUT.

So we fired up our VW's and drove bleary eyed out to Badwater, the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, at -282F below sea level. Horsepower Zone!!! Well, scientifically at least, right? I was hoping we could feel the air getting forced under all  weight into our carbs, denting the air filter tops in, deforming floats...keep dreaming Jim...you need coffee.  Anyway, we spent the morning hiking around the briney salt pools and formations, beers for breakfast...taking pictures out at Devil's Golf Course, looking for pupfish in Salt Creek. I have fond memories of the 5 of us kind of wandering around, out with Sean's bus on the salt flats...completely silent, except for cassette deck playing live version of "Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun" it was eeirily fitting for the backdrop.

More fun as the day went on. Remember we were only making this a weekend end trip, and Sunday would be spent mostly driving home. By the late afternoon, we drove among the long shadows at the base of the Funeral Mountains north, up towards the Ubehebe Crater area. I knew of an old campground that was usually empty up there....Mesquite. It was probably 20 miles south of Scotty's Castle. We arrived at sundown and were in luck it was empty. No other campers. We could party all night and have nobody to piss off. We set up camp like the Kings of the Desert. Sean's bus, his gear, bbq, the Super Bug and our gear and my Westfalia tent, all kind of arranged in a semi-precise rectangle (from bird's view). Somehow we found organization terribly important. Car parts and tools in one corner, coolers, food and cooking equip in another corner, chairs arranged in a semi circle....it was too efficient for a band of drunks int he desert. By nightfall we were bored sitting around and we came up with a terrible idea. Let's drive the bus out to The Racetrack.

The Racetrack is an ancient dry lake bed, infamous for its "sliding rocks"...giant rock formations that have "left tracks" behind them on the surface of the dry silica of the lakebed. Nobody knows exactly why this happens, but there are some scientific guesses it has to do with rainwater and ice mixing with silica, creating a low friction surface. Whatever. It's very desolate, probably 50-60 miles away from nearest inhabited area. There's a road that leaves Ubehebe Crater, and winds south, all washboard gravel, for 30+ miles, through scrub brush and flocks of Joshua trees, past Hunter Mountain and Lippencott Lead Mine, finally arriving at a lone wooden post with about 20 old rusty tea kettles dangling from it...known as Tea Kettle Junction. By now it was 10:00pm and pitch black out. We were so far out in the middle of nowhere, in this old trusty air cooled bus....it was pretty daunting to think about. Years before any of us had cell phones. After another half hour of gravel dust and washboard bumps, suspension groans and rocks smacking underside of bus, we arrived at Racetrack. By now the moon had risen and illuminated the lake bed in a mist of blue. The rocks were everywhere, as big as a VW Bug some of them. Sure enough, upon close inspection, there were troughs and tracks behind the rocks....some that wound and looped for hundreds of yards. I think we spent about an hour out there and then hopped back in the bus and about two hours later we were back at camp.
Things got weird from here.
Somebody got the bright idea of making cheeseburgers once we got back. Except they had a psychedelic twist. I've had sauteed mushrooms on a burger before, but not mushrooms like these. After our burger dinner, we all ended up roaring in laughter about the stupidest things. I remember watching the campfire make cartoon images on the tent wall....something about a mynah bird arranging salad croutons in order, from biggest to smallest.

It was proabably my favorite club trip to date. We made it home Sunday night, about 11:30pm, after crossing over CA120 at Tuolumne Meadows and coming home through Yosemite Park. The only issue was the point closure. Somewhere I have a bunch of old photos from the trip and someday hope to get them scanned and post them here.

thanks for reading and sorry for the making the world's longest post ever.

[louisb]

Cool story. Any from the other side of the pond?

--louis

[Jim Ratto]

it would be cool to hear about some of the Odyssey Rallyes and trips to Palm Springs and Mexico....the old DKP crew

[Peter]

You say sorry Jim?
I think think its cool to write all that down..
with my typing skills it would have taken hours
you should write a book :d

[stealth67vw]

Fuckers. I missed another great "trip" because I had to work

[Jim Ratto]

You say sorry Jim?
I think think its cool to write all that down..
with my typing skills it would have taken hours
you should write a book :d

well thanks. It really was a lot of fun, and even more so because the cars made it in style.

Fuckers. I missed another great "trip" because I had to work

shoulda played HOOKIE Johnny!!!!! You would have had a blast. You should share some other Aufklarung stories though....like the Mother Lode Rally with the cat in Murphys.

[Jim Ratto]

Fuckers. I missed another great "trip" because I had to work

or your version of the club trip to Lakeport show. Don't forget free pancakes, gun getting pulled and the wheel-barrow stroller.

[stealth67vw]

Fuckers. I missed another great "trip" because I had to work

or your version of the club trip to Lakeport show. Don't forget free pancakes, gun getting pulled and the wheel-barrow stroller.

And the breast feeding in public view 12 year old hippie chick!

[stealth67vw]

The Lakeport Trip.

Months prior to the first inaugural Lakeport Show there had been mention of an auto cross, So being the dumbshit that I am, I completely rebuilt all my suspension, bought new 185/60/15 Firestone Firehawks, Sway-A-Way Sway bars, KYB shocks, shimmed up my camber compensator, added a deep sump and removed anything unnecessary. I was bound and determined to kick some ass, knowing that I can drive the wheels of my car. So our club, Aufklarung with about 10-12 cars drives 170 miles up I-580, up 101 over windy Hopland Road to Lakeport, Cal. We planned on camping Saturday night and racing Sunday, only to find they have canceled the auto cross event for safety reasons. I was pretty hot about that being I just dumped over $600 into my suspension but there was really nothing I could do so I took a chill pill (beer). So we hung out and drank a few beers and BS'd  about anything VW and I met Sheep's sister April.

Sunday morning came bright and early and the local McDonald's had a pancake breakfast ready for us at the show. My friend Les Kovack, although not a member of Aufklarung was there with his girlfriend in his 67 fastback that I had built the engine for. In his half hungover stupor, offered to pay for my breakfast but refused his own girlfriend.  This was quiet humorous to us but really ended that relationship for him. 

The Lakeport show ended up being a fucking dud for us. To many hillbillies, not enough beer, no auto crossing and so on.

On the way home we were supposed to stop at Sheep's parent's house in the shit hole town Lower Lake, some 40 miles from Lakeport. He needed to pick up a Manx buggy windshield for Sean Dorman's Manx.

We pull into welfare recipient central, Downtown Lower Lake, California around 4 PM. I ended up parking 5 or 6 houses down from Franks folks house and walking back down. Upon walking from 5 houses down, I come across neighbor and say "hello". The neighbor immediately pulls out a Nickel plated automatic pistol and actuates the slide, displaying it in an intimidating fashion and gives me a very dirty look. All I said was "hello", what the hell was his problem? Franks's parents told us the guy is a meth dealer and called the police on him. He had outstanding warrants for attempted murder, manufacturing meth and parole violaiton. I just about shit my pants. I could have been shot for saying hello.

A few weeks later I started seeing Frank's sister and she told me that Bryan Wenzel had parked in front on his house and the guy bitched about it. She got into an argument with the guy and called him an asshole. Five seconds later I walked by and said hello. I ended up being in a relationship with her for 11 years and this always came up in a negative way. I should have never listened to my penis. 

[Carlos De Alba]

hahahahaha       Great Story.

[stealth67vw]

hahahahaha       Great Story.

Don't listen to your penis Carlos. I speak from experience. 

[Jim Ratto]

but you got two awesome sons out of it John. Ain't so bad.

[stealth67vw]

I don't regret any of it for one second. If I had to do it over, it would almost be the same.

[Carlos De Alba]

but you got two awesome sons out of it John. Ain't so bad.

I'm sure Jim is right !!!    

[Carlos De Alba]

I don't regret any of it for one second. If I had to do it over, it would almost be the same.

good........that is always the case !!!

[stealth67vw]

Any of you guys ever cruise El Camino Real (101) Santa Clara? I spent most of my summers from 1990-1994 out there "cruising" I remember a stupid fast black ragtop bug with a white sunroof, chromies with "EMPI" across the top of the windshield. He claimed to have a 2110 with a W130 and 48s. I got my first BJ out there in the back of my friend Eric's 69 bug.

[louisb]

Okay, here is one of mine. In Florida one of the local hot areas for spring breakers is Panama City which is about a two hour drive from where I live. (At least if you take the short way.) My friend Bobby and I decide to jump in my '71 and head over and check out the talent strolling up and down the strip. We take one of the back routes there making good time at about 75 mph most of the way.

Get to the strip and start the slow crawl to the other end averaging about 5 mph. Half naked chicks everywhere, cops are pulling folks over left and right for drinking while driving etc. Just the usual spring break mayhem.  At this point in the treck down the strip the road is still four lanes and we are inching along. I am checking out a couple of chicks so I miss seeing that the line of traffic ahead of us has stopped for a  red light until Bobby yells at me to stop. I slam on brakes and they lock up so we come to a screeching halt. These guys in a bronco beside us are laughing and pointing and one yells "Way to lock them up buddy" and just as he finished they hit the car in front of them. Wham! Not too bad, but enough for the cops who are everywhere to have to stop traffic. Fortunately we get ahead of the ensuing traffic jam and keep riding.

The road eventually closed down to two lanes and basically becomes a five mile long parking lot. People are jumping in and out of cars, lots of alcohol every where, and oh did I mention all the half naked college chicks? We have been on the strip for about an hour and have made it to the pier which is close to the middle of the strip. Pull into the pier parking lot and take a break to cool off and walk on the beach. We take in the sites and do some swimming in the still cool surf for about an hour. Get some lunch at one of the close by restaurants then make our way back to the car. A group of friends of ours are staying at the local hostel not too far from the pier so we make our way over and drop in to see what was happening. There are close to a dozen people hanging out drinking, smoking and making out, the air is thick with the smoke from everyone's favorite herb. One of the girls comes up and says she thinks she is drunk. So my friend tells her she needs to do the "Drunk Test" She looks at us and goes "Whats the "Drunk Test" and my friend tells here to start doing jumping jacks. Did I mention she was pretty well endowed and in a bikini? It was a good show until she started projectile vomiting. Guess she was drunk so maybe that wasn't a good idea. We get her into the bathroom and she is sitting on the toilet peeing and puking at the same time. Friend's girlfriend who also happened to be this chicks best friend starts scolding us for being mean to her so we decide its time to head out.

By now it is about 2 pm and clouds are rolling in for the daily afternoon showers so we decide to start the trek home. My friend and I have a rule that you can't drive back the same way you came on trips like this. So we decide to take the coastal route which adds about three hours to the trip. The engine is humming as we drive along the white sand beaches that this area is known for. This road goes through the middle of an Air Force base and we get buzzed a few times by low flying aircraft doing maneuvers or heading to the bombing range. A little unnerving the first time it happens but cool to see. We hit Apalachicola which is the little fishing town my Dad is from and stop in to see my uncle at his store. This store was built in the early 1900s and sells marine supplies to the local fishing boats. We shoot the breeze with him for an hour then notice it is starting to rain so we decide to get back on the road for home. The rain is coming down hard now and looking out over the water we see a water spout touch down a couple of times. Fortunately it was well off from shore but I pick up the pace anyway to get us on home. Rest of the trip was pretty uneventful.

[Jim Ratto]

nice story louisb

Makes me want to go to Florida.

[Jim Ratto]

if you have the weekend free, you could read about this VW trip too

http://cal-look.no/lounge/index.php/topic,2784.0.html

[sheep]

How come I never remember any of these stories that John and Jim have???
I was freakin there and I dont remember 

[javabug]

And the breast feeding in public view 12 year old hippie chick!

Shame for no digital cameras back then.

[Jim Ratto]

How come I never remember any of these stories that John and Jim have???
I was freakin there and I dont remember 

too much X

[sheep]

How come I never remember any of these stories that John and Jim have???
I was freakin there and I dont remember 

too much X

 

[Jim Ratto]

How come I never remember any of these stories that John and Jim have???
I was freakin there and I dont remember 

het Frank I don't think you went to Death Valley with us that time. You went when we took my Vanagon and my bitch ex, Joanne.
We should have gotten her lost out there and left her there.