Xmas Tree Hunting

As participants in an old German tradition, we took Gertie into the woods so we could saw down a small part of said woods for temporary installation inside our house. Miller Creek Road, South-southwest of town in Lolo NF offered prime hunting opportunities. 

At first, Tater Tot was indifferent to the whole scene. I think bumpy roads are evocative of the womb or something and put her to sleep.

Back from the kill. It was growing up out of the stump of what once had been a much larger tree.

All the tree-tying-down commotion woke Tater Tot up just in time to have some fun in the snow. We held the first session of Outdoor Winter Survival 101--when dining upon snow, eat the snow off tree branches, not off the ground.

In the meantime a red Volvo (Headlight wipers? Pfffftt.) had pulled up aft, stymieing my plan to back back onto the road, which made Gertie's exit less than graceful. Melissa made both of these hats and the scarf.

A kid hauled this contraption out of the Volvo. It seemed to work okay, but the pedals came too close to the ground, IMHO.

On the way back into town, we heard this Jetta Passat honking at us. Who was it but Sarah, John, and Avery (Esmé's BFF, in the rear seat), just back from defoliating a bit of forest for themselves. And in their VW wagon no less. Truly it was a Christmas Miracle--or an Xmas Coincidence, depending upon one's predilections.

(miles 711-748←click for map)

Both 1971s

Pretty in Pink

As most normal ACVW operators are aware, it's difficult not to park next to another ACVW when you see one sitting all lonely-like. So when I saw a cream Beetle parked by itself while running an errand, I pulled Gertie up right next to it. Tater Tot can identify VW buses (they're all "LOOD-weeg") and Beetles on sight--"BEE-too!" Of course she saw the Beetle from the window and announced her discovery. I asked her, "Do you like Beetles?" "Uh-huh." "Do you want a Beetle when you can drive?" "Uh-huh. PINK! Beetle." Oh boy. How does a girl with no exposure to the Disney Pink Princess Machine come up with an answer like that?

To test her convictions, we found a few pink Beetles online and asked her which she liked. She didn't really like coral (probably the most acceptable mode of pink) or pearl, unfortunately. Fortunately, she also expressed an aversion toward convertibles. These were her favorites.

Her number one choice, from the Philippines.

I threw in this Thing as a control. She called it a "Fun-ny BEE-too" and said it was her least favorite (sorry, PJ) of the four here. She still liked it better than the coral Beetles though. 

Laundry List

Other bus drivers have shown an interest in the notes and other ephemera that one more than occasionally comes across in various second-hand pieces of ACVW literature; books, manuals, etc. I'll admit to having given a fair number of these orphaned items the heave-ho, stumbling across them during less sentimental times. Anyway, the other day a library patron, who'd seen me loading the family into Ludwig at one time or another, said he had a copy of the Idiot Book that he wasn't able to put to much good use in operating his late-model Lexus LX. "Could you use it?" he asked. "Is it spiral-bound?" I replied ungratefully.

And there it is, finally, my own spiral-bound copy of the Idiot Book. Much too nice to ever use in the field, unfortunately. I found the following inside:

He's a nice guy so I'll not make too much fun of certain items on his to-do list.

Paparazzi

Ludwig's no late-fifties/early-sixties 23-window deluxe, that's for sure. He's handsome enough, I suppose. Even so it's not like a late bay Westy around here is worthy of much untoward gawking. He's not even the only orange bay window camper in Missoula (there are two others, both Rivies, that I know of).

So I thought it was kind of strange when these chicks gathered around him last weekend and popped off a bunch of photos.

Too bad he was so dirty at the time. Or maybe that was part of the appeal. Is it a trick of the light, or does he look like he's blushing a little? (And is that a can of chew in her back pocket?)

It's a Girl!

We ordered Gertrude's birth certificate a few weeks ago and it arrived this week. When I saw on her door jamb that she was built in October of 1970, I was really hoping she'd have the same birthday as Ludwig, but we weren't that lucky. Only three days' (and a few years') difference though.

I made the big mistake of ordering the certificate in Melissa's name, which she took as my tacit admission that she is the car's primary owner. Ooops.

Other ACVW owners interested in getting the birth certificate for their cars should follow this thread. Bus owners only wanting the info and not the certificate (suitable for framing!) should just use this handy free M-Code decoder instead.

A River Runs Through It

Next time we go sightseeing with my parents, I promise I'll remember to clean the windows first.

Our destination was the Blackfoot Recreation Corridor (map), a lovely chunk of road where the Blackfoot and MT 200 part ways for 17 or so miles. We took it East to West, beginning with this stretch of prairie.

Looking toward the Rattlesnake Wilderness

Tater Tot loves throwing rocks into water.

The wind-up.

And the pitch.

My parents (including Dad, above) wanted to take a roadtrip into the woods/mountains and we (and Ludwig) were happy to oblige. I had a minor ulterior motive for choosing this particular stretch of road, as it has a few campgrounds along it I wanted to check out.  

Looking toward the Garnet Mountains

Thibodeau Rapids

Melissa drove, Dad rode shotgun.

my Dad + camera = pictures of rocks

The road was forgiving--we didn't have to put on the chains once.

Definitely worth a second trip.

A relatively unexciting post concerning my admiration for Gertie

Disclaimer:

Mitch is often trying to get me to post more often to this blog. It's not technical, and it's not adventurous, and it's probably not even very interesting or exciting for anyone other than someone that drives or loves ACVWs. Well, it's probably not even interesting or exciting for these folks, but here it is:

Winter is fast approaching, and although I've been secretly feeling just a wee bit nervous about our somewhat recent (and unexpected) lifestyle change since winter is quickly approaching (you know, since Fang Fang was an AWD, and Montana winters aren't for sissies). Lately, driving Gertie is reminding me why my nervousness isn't warranted. There are so many reasons she is superior to other cars I've owned, even for winter-time driving. Really, I can't even explain how satisfying it is to tootle around town in Gertie as my our daily driver, but I'll try. 

• Gertie doesn't complain about driving in cold weather. She doesn't lug and it doesn't take a super long time for the transmission fluid to warm up.
• Gertie's engine warms up as quickly, or even faster, than other cars I've owned.
• Gertie's heater works better than any other car I've owned (and is second only to the '71 Beetle Mitch drove for awhile).
• I love that the snow doesn't melt off the hood. It makes the drive a little nicer, aesthetically.
• The flat little windows make scraping snow and ice a breeze.
• Gertie has the nicest transmission of any manual transmission car I've ever driven.
• Gertie is super peppy.
• Since Gertie's cozy, I can easily reach Esmé to hand her water, snacks, or whatever, in the backseat. (This may not seem like much of a plus, but if you've spent much time with a kid in a car you might sympathize.)
• Gertie is ridiculously easy to find in a parking lot.
• Family photos look a whole lot better.

Life's Work

Melissa rightly complained from pretty early on that Gertie had a tendency to reek of gasoline, particularly while cornering after fill-ups. Fuel could even sometimes be seen on the road behind the vehicle at these times, originating from the starboard front wheel well. Not cool.

I'm no genius, but I'm not really a dummy either, and having had these cars, off and on, for half my life (!), I knew what the deal was. There's a tube that runs from the filler neck back into the tank, so overfilled gas has somewhere productive to go. Gertie's tube was a shadow of its former self (above), and served only to allow gas an exit during left turns. Temporary solution: don't fill the tank much more than half full.

Next best solution: tape an oversize bolt into the hole in the filler neck, where the tube was supposed to go (above, left). A decent fix, actually, but somewhat lacking in grace. Best best solution: order a replacement tube (from ISP West), which is still an original VW part, amazingly (above, right). They must've used it on some other model long enough after the sun set on the Variant to justify its continued production. A small victory to be sure, but we Type III owners will take what we can get.

It was an easy enough installation, with Melissa working it into place while I pulled from the fender side. (Let's all just pretend that rust at left is value-adding patina, shall we?) When fitting rubber parts like these, use talcum powder (the whiteness seen here), and not grease, as a lubricant please.

Done.

The Tater Tot was napping during all this activity so Melissa thought it'd be a her chance to deal with a thorn in her side, the carpet sagging from the upper corners of the cabin. Less-than-ideal temperatures didn't seem to affect the adhesive she used, which now mightily holds up the carpet. While I was certainly in favor of this project, I didn't expect it to have as dramatic an effect as it did. Gertrude is much better looking for the application of a little glue, I have to say.

Melissa's work

As we were doing this stuff, I found myself wondering. I thought, if someone had told my 17 year-old self that at 35, a Type III would be the daily driver my wife and I used to haul our kid around in (and that our only other car would be an old VW camper), I probably wouldn't've batted an eye. If someone had told my 33 year-old self that this would be the case, I probably would've thought they were crazy. Life is weird.

Drive-by Splitty

I'm aware of maybe five Splitties in Missoula, ones that get driven anyway--trailer queens of course don't count.

This well-used fellow was parked on S 3rd W the other day, near the Orange Street Food Farm.

The kangaroo bar makes him even more handsome.