I just wanted to share an auto-based column I wrote about a recent weekend of working on our VW Bus. Here is the build thread.
Austen Verrilli
Car show season will end soon. Sure, I could paint a unrealistically whimsical and fantastic picture full of chrome, smiling owners, and revving engines. But the fact is, I'm glad it's ending.
I had a grand plan for this column. I would travel three hours home, bust my ass for a few days and install a rebuilt motor into our 1974 Volkswagen Bus. Then we would take it to the annual VW Porsche Reunion in Cincinnati and it would inspire beautiful prose to flow from my being.
Well, I did it. And I have to say I'm tired as hell, I feel like I just got my ass kicked and thank God it's over.
This was the second car show we took our bus to. The first was an adventure to Columbus where we were, apparently, running on three cylinders and didn't know how to read a gas gauge. Then vapor lock caused us to have to push it into the show. It made it back, just, and the motor blew shortly after.
This time the show was conveniently close. The engine was professionally gone through. We had experience. It worked. Hooray, I guess.
The people at the show were typically nice. Everyone was happy to talk about spare parts, vehicle lowering techniques, and anything else car related. I love that kind of talk.
It seemed different though. Usually I don't have a car at the show. Usually it's sitting in the garage and in my head. I dream of modifications I will make based on some beetle or a bit of advice from a fellow gear head.
Now that our old girl easily putted to the show in all her dented, mismatched, rusty glory something seemed amiss. The aspirations of perfection persisted but didn't really seem to matter now that the bus drives. Success should be satisfying. God it's not. It's sobering.
There is some sunlight at the end of this vain and dim tunnel though. That show was the last one I will attend this year. The bus will get rolled back into the garage in a few weeks and sooner than later it will be back in pieces. The welder will be awaken from it's easy slumber and sparks will shoot from holes in the floor. I won't be pissed off because it's working. I'll be pissed off because I'm working. The dreams of grandeur will start again. I'll envy those immaculate two toned buses with their fresh interiors, fancy cabinets, and smooth running engines. At this pace soon our's will be one.
Yes, car show season will soon be over. Cold will keep good mechanics inside, if they can help it. Evil salt trucks will begin spreading their corrosive death upon the roads. The impractical, shiny, revving beauties will hide in their garages. Busted knuckles and sore shoulders will heal. Boredom will set in as the television flickers the same thing over and over. Then the question will arise. " Why did car show season have to end?"
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