Showing posts with label hippie life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hippie life. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Meeting a time traveler on the road

We're home now after 49 days on the road! Whew. It was great, for the most part, and meeting people along the way added to the fun. I'll be revisiting some of our experiences in coming posts. Cape Breton next. 
Brian travels in a 1977 VW van, behind which tows his  homemade flying saucer trailer.  He wears a tie-dyed tee shirt and headband and is not at all apologetic about his retro hippie persona. In fact, he's proud, I think, to be hanging back there in a time of great rock music, newfound freedoms, and a belief that simple living could change the world. Dang I wish I still had my tie dye stuff and the orange and white pop-top VW van we had in the late 1970s, not unlike Brian's. And also Paul's wonderful glossy chestnut locks. And my bikini-ready body. Alas. 
October 8, 2016, day 46 on the road

We were in Green River State Park, Utah. We'd arrived  in late afternoon after a fabulous day hiking in Arches National Park and quickly scored a shaded site.

Dolphins are featured on Brian's VW van.
The white paint on the side represents waves, he says,
PK took a quick bike ride as I prepared our usual one-pot camp dinner (a recipe post some time soon)  but he soon returned to urge, " You've got to see this." He explained that he saw a man just down the campground lane who travels in an old VW van pulling what looks like a flying saucer.

This is big. Somebody PK thinks I need to meet!  I drop the onion and knife, turn off the propane burner, and head down the road with my camera and curiosity. The truth is, PK is intrigued by this person.

He knows I will jump right in with questions. A former journalist, I'm not at all afraid to approach almost anyone, and I know that most people love it when someone is interested in who they are. This man was no exception. (This woman WAS an exception.) 

I pretended to just be strolling past, did a double-take at his rig, and asked something like, 'Wow, how does that thing handle the hills?" Followed by, "Is your trailer a flying saucer?"

That got him going.  Here's what I learned in about 10 minutes as we walked and talked around his van and his life:

  • His van is decrepit - it goes about 40 mph uphill and 60 on the straight. Utah's freeway speed limit is 80. Yes. 80. Traffic today freaked him out, blowing by him in buffeting puffs.
  • His dog, George, is deaf and bites. It even bites him. That's why he can't take me inside his van, where George reigns, to show me features such as an  elephant trunk faucet. George goes nuts and lunges when Brian cracks the door. No problem. There's plenty to see outside.
  • Brian doesn't own a smart phone or use a GPS. He may be the only person who will be able to read maps and do arithmetic in his head when/if technology collapses. But not having GPS was a bit of a problem for him today as a truck carrying ammonium nitrate overturned on the freeway in Salt Lake City. We'd heard about the incident on NPR traveling out of Arches to Green River. Like hundreds of travelers, Brian had been diverted, but unlike most, he lacked a prescribed route. He got lost and spent hours trying to return to the freeway south of Salt Lake City. Still, he says, "If you have a cell phone, the government knows where you are all the time. That's crazy."
Maybe he has a point. 

Brian, a printer by trade,  made his"flying saucer" from sheet metal and drainage pipe. It carries firewood and dog food. Note the silver and blue jets welded onto the van's back corner.

The red fringed canopy was sewn by his wife, who died five years ago, Brian tells me. "You never get over it," he says. Tomorrow he's debating whether to visit Arches or Bryce Canyon, both near-by national parks. Arches is closer. With all the mountains and hills between Brian and a Ringo Starr concert in Seattle Oct. 18, he'll probably go with Arches. 

I begin to move toward our small but sweet Roadtrek/Sprinter van, whose shiny silver exterior matches its deluxe, in my view, interior. Two-burner stove, furnace, lights, tiny toilet/shower, microwave, big comfy retractible bed, cherry cabinets, and a diesel engine that goes 80 mph, no problem. 

"I need to get back," I say, "Even though our van is boring compared to yours."

"People say that all the time," he says, grinning. 

 I bet they do. But like me, they probably don't feel all that bad about their dull-by-comparison homes on wheels.