Spring is the perfect time to drive out to the forest with the windows rolled all the way down, with a tent and a sleeping bag and all the other gear that goes along with such a trip. It’s the last cool respite before the onslaught of heat, the threat of hurricanes, the poking of mosquitoes. Spring generates all sorts of pleasant memories for me, spring rain, the cool breeze through the leaves, roadtrips, camping, hiking, biking. Volkswagen vans actually driving down the road. I now regrettably own a Kia van, but not so long ago I drove a Volkswagen bus, sky blue with a luggage rack on top. I had converted the transporter interior into a camper van, drove out to a local junkyard and pulled out cabinets, the fold out rear seat and a hammock. Eventually I installed the roll out windows and that van was ready to camp. We travelled to Helen, Georgia, Asheville, North Carolina, Orlando and St. Augustine Florida and of course, Louisiana. If you’ve ever travelled, or lived, in a Volkswagen van you are sure to understand the nostalgia here. If not, there is a piece of you that has not yet lived. There was no air conditioning, I had to adjust my own valves, set my timing, adjust my brakes, change the oil, replace countless parts and pull the engine time and again. But she kept going. For those who don’t know, Volkswagen literally means, “the people’s car,” an appropriate title. Indeed, one person, though it’s better with two, can do all the work necessary to keep a Volkswagen running. You don’t have to trust the crooked mechanics, you only have to worry about the aftermarket Brazilian and Mexican parts that don’t last half as long as the old German ones. I learned to do my timing and change my points and condensor in a Dairy Queen parking lot somewhere in the Florida panhandle. There is something liberating about those old Volkswagens, not that they aren’t a cross to bear at times. The parts aren’t cheap and the downtime isn’t pleasant. Walking to work or to the store while your engine is sitting on a floor jack waiting for a pressure plate is never a happy event unless it’s a short distance. But once the parts arrive and the engine is bolted back in (all four bolts) you are in for a happy time. A Volkswagen Van isn’t a four wheel drive, but mine climbed up a rocky forest road straight up to the top of the nearest mountains. It was the foothills, and not even the Rockies, but it was still an accomplishment.
Camping in Ocala National Forest with my Orlando friends was always a great time, especially in the spring and fall months. We used to go to a campground called Buck Lake, it was a free site back then. Now and then an alligator would come to take up residence in the lake. I once watched a meteor shower out there on the beach and it was one of the events that inspired the song I wrote, “Little Blue.” That’s probably the best song I’ve ever written. It also haunts me, ‘maybe we’ll remember all the dreams we put away.” It’s easy to put away those old dreams. Record the memories, put them in a book, put the book on a shelf. One day you pull it down to find that it’s covered in dust. Just like that old Volkswagen. She still sits out in my driveway, but she hasn’t run for eight years now. Unfortunately she needs more than a clutch plate this time. Before I could even put a new engine back in I would need to have a ton of bodywork to fix the rust that has eaten away at her since we have lived in this humid Louisiana swampland. Now and then, when I pass by her on my way to get inside that accursed Kia, I remember sitting inside the door with my friend Michelle, both of us with our guitars. Sleeping on the fold out bed with the door wide open, or filling pages of notebooks with secret thoughts, so meaningful. The view from the top of that mountain, the laughter of friends, the peace of the forest, the waterfalls and the secret places. There is something about a Volkswagen that connects you to the earth. It’s also a connection with humanity, a wave from another Volkswagen driver or a classic car owner, or a motorcyclist. It’s the smile from a child…
There is also a freedom in remembering all those good times. When you’re looking back, it’s just like everything else, you remember only the good times, the laughter, the conversations and the smiling friends. You don’t think as much on the breakdowns or the amazing parties that you missed. Sometimes those events led you down unforseen paths that otherwise, you would never have travelled, like the impromptu Winter Solstice ritual on the side of Bayou Road next to the Peace Monument. There are wise spirits trapped inside those old Volkswagens, sometimes it pays to listen to the little voices in your head.
