Happy Birthday

Ludwig turned 34 today. I wonder what his first owner(s) would think if they knew he was still kicking around all these years later.
Some data:
-Given his 217,000 miles (nearly 8.75 times around the world, or circa 91% of the distance to the Moon), it works out that he's gone about 6,382 miles a year, which is 17 1/2 miles a day, every day.
-All this gadding about has burned 13,500 gallons or so of gasoline.
-Very roughly, that's $16,000 worth of fuel.
-Whoever took him off the lot paid $5,274 for him, which when adjusted for inflation is $23,000 today. For comparison, in 1974, new Ford and Chevy 1-ton vans cost $3,500 and $3,125, respectively. Apparently Ludwig was pretty expensive brand new.
(Don't be confused that Ludwig is a 1974 model, yet turned 34 in 2007. Model years and calendar years haven't matched up in forever.)
Happy birthday, Ludwig!

An Inordinate Fondness for Beetles

Some disclaimers:
1. The cliche is somewhat tempting, but I didn't title this post "Evolution" because furthering the analogy between Beetles mechanical and beetles organical might serve to promote the unfortunate and very widespread misconception that the biological process of descent with modification--evolution--is progressive, in the sense of going from "worse" to "better" as time plods on. It most certainly is not, but the evolution of artifacts (e.g. cars) is, in some respects.
2. One shouldn't draw any amateurish Freudian conclusions about my tendency to photograph my favorite Teutonic vehicles from the stern, a predilection I have previously noted but which defies further analysis. Sometimes a car is just a car.
3. Sorry that there haven't been any camping photos lately, but again I'll refer you to an earlier post for one explanation for this.
Enough verbosity: onward!

Surely there are Beetle experts who will (and should) correct me if I'm wrong in estimating this to be a 1956. This beauty has clearly sat for years and looks to me to be a perfect candidate (non-hit, non-cancerous, non-Earl Scheibed) for restoration. Someone needs to save the old gal.

I'm guessing it's a '63. If I snooped more closely with the flow chart 02McDonald gave to me years ago in hand, I'd know for sure. This one appears to be more beat than the Oval Window above, but its tags are current so someone must love it (flat tire notwithstanding).

It's gotta be a 1972 Straight, right? If I wanted to be sure, I'd've used this trick: to determine the year of any 1965 or later air-cooled VW, look at the third number of the VIN (easily found inside the driver's side corner of the windshield from 1968 or so onward). That number is the last number of the model year. (For example, the VIN 3602254565 is attached to a 1970 Type III.) This was one of 1,220,686 Beetles made in 1972.

Proof that even artificial selection needn't improve upon the original, the Super Beetle (exported to the US between 1971-1980; all Beetles after 1975, I think, were Supers). As the 70s rolled on, the Beetle platform was increasingly being seen as outdated (nb: "seen as"), and they really started to tinker with them. Can anyone even name a vehicle that didn't get bigger as time went on? I can't. The venerable Beetle was no exception, and the Super Beetle (the pejorative is "Stupid Beetle") was the beginning, middle, and end of the end for them. Synapamorphies include monstrous taillights and a curious grille on the front apron. Since I know that many Splitty owners look down their noses at Bay Windows like Ludwig in the same way I'm unfavorably comparing Supers to early Beetles, I will admit that they are good, fun-to-drive cars. Question: how does the roof get rusty like that?

4 x 4 x 4

According to the charter of a certain underground organization of which I am president, I am disallowed from owning a true four-wheel-drive vehicle (Fang Fang, as an all-wheel drive vehicle (there's a difference), doesn't count), though I would unhesitatingly violate that rule in the very unlikely event that I come across a cheap, driveable Schwimmwagen. But I very much appreciate 4WD vehicles--not today's Escalades, Navigators, and Expeditions, but the classic 4WDs from which these modern iterations descend. You know, 4x4s that had to actually prove their mettle in the rough.

Case in point, the original Land Rover. Proving that VW isn't the only auto manufacturer to have entirely abandoned its roots, Land Rover used to make these gorgeous trucks under the now stone-dead philosophy that form follows function. Allegedly, an astonishing (if true) 70% of all Land Rovers ever built are still in operation today. I'm not up on Land Rover arcana, but I think this one dates from the 1960s.

Even Jeep, a marque I mildly detest, used to make passably decent vehicles (Willys-era Jeeps are beyond reproach, however). I kind of like this Commando from the early 1970s, possibly because I have an inexplicable affinity for the early 1970s aesthetic generally.

This 80s Ford Econoline is on the path from our old place to the river, and I begrudgingly admired it every time I saw it. There's something to be said about a well-executed project, much as one might dislike the project in principle. I'll bet this rig doesn't get stuck too often.

Nowadays Toyota makes innocuous cars that last forever and have all the personality and flair of a bag of rice cakes. But from after the war until the mid-80s they made the famous LandCruiser, the pinnacle of which was the indomitable FJ40. (You might recognize this as the original for what today's nostalgia-mongers have warped into the laughable FJ Cruiser.) I've spent some time driving and passengering in FJ40s (owned by 01Cisco and 02McDonald) and enjoyed them thouroughly. When a sledgehammer sleeps at night, it dreams that it's a Toyota FJ40.

New! Ludwig's Map

Did you happen to notice the New! Ludwig's Interactive Map over on the right sidebar?

If you click on the link "View Larger Map" under the little map on the sidebar, you'll be whisked away to a page that looks something like this:

Then you can click on a marker (the blue upside-down teardrops) or one of the places listed on the left to get some details on Ludwig's adventures.

It's a work in progress as we're trying to supplement some of the blog photos with additional photos of the places Ludwig's been (although you may notice some photos are duplicates).

Please check it out, and let us know what you think! (Did we mention that we like comments?)

GNP: East Side

Now for some sights from the other side of the hump.

This nearly perfectly straight chasm is Sunrift Gorge. When I was young, growing up in Nebraska, I had the idea that whatever landform flowing water occupied, it was sculpted entirely by that very flowing water. And in Nebraska, this is largely true. It wasn't until later when I realized that sometimes, a lot of the time, flowing water takes a path that was created by some means other than itself (this may seem obvious or trivial, but it wasn't to me). Sunrift Gorge is a perfect example. It wasn't carved out by the stream that runs through it, but instead the stream found the crack which itself was a result of some ancient earthquake.

At a point just upstream from where this photo was taken the stream bends at a right angle that would make Pythagoras himself proud.

Out the driver's side.

Out the passenger side.

These pictures, taken seconds apart and on the same road, show how dramatic the Rocky Mountain Front really is. The first photo looks as though it could've been taken in Iowa, while the second betrays its location. Grizzly bears' historical range once extended well into Eastern North America, but now they only go out into open plains along this part of the Front, the Eastern border of GNP.

Running Eagle Falls, near Two Medicine, used to be called "Trick Falls" because of the way the water appears to come from the middle of the rock wall. What happens is the creek sinks into the fragmented bedrock and emerges at the falls. When runoff is heavy, the creek can't sink fast enough and a smaller falls shoots off over the top of the bigger one. The rock escarpment and the Rocky Mountain Front are both part of the Lewis Overthrust Fault.


Thanks to Melissa for driving (and letting me sit in the back taking pictures), to Esther for coming along (and bringing all the good food) and to David Alt & Donald Hyndman for their excellent book, Roadside Geology of Montana.

Big Month (intermission)

September proved to be the busiest month for this blog yet, with nearly 250 "unique visitors" looking at over 400 pages. What exactly is a "unique visitor"? I dunno--I'm not a computer person. But what it means to me is that I'm apparently so acerbic to those who comment that no one does it anymore, despite the fact that more people than ever are reading it. So, I'm making a New Month's Resolution: if y'all comment, my responses (except those to 01Cisco, who always gives me trouble) will be composed with a more favorable honey:vinegar ratio. Or better yet, I'll just make Melissa answer 'em.

Thanks for reading.