Divide

You wouldn't know it by looking at the town of Divide that it's home to a major ACVW parts operation. (Just by looking, you wouldn't know it was a town at all.) But it is. About 40 miles from us, just off I-15 at its junction with MT 43 is Brax Euro Parts. 


We went there the other day to get some stuff for Ludwig. Maybe I'll post some pictures of it later, or not. Does anyone really want to see the dashpot assembly from the left carburetor of a '74 bus? I didn't think so.

Apparently, when they deliver parts to Arizona they bring back these flagstones and sell them up here on the side.

Brax pointed out this Notchback he'd acquired up by Havre (I think), not long before it was to be crushed. It's a '62, and its VIN is 0 009 xxx meaning it was one of the first 9,000 or so Type IIIs ever made. It's already been sold, so don't get your hopes up.


I talked to him at length about all things ACVW. About how in the late '80s and 1990s he was shipping a lot of stuff to Japan, but now it's the Brits that want everything, especially Westies. About how in the 1980s he would just go to small towns across the West, driving through alleys looking for VWs and picking up things for next to nothing or, often, nothing. About how merciless everyone used to be about crushing old Volkswagens. About how a major Type III retailer is coming up in the near future to buy off all his Type III parts (I made him promise to save me a pair of nice heater channels). It was a good conversation.


They've got quite a compound down there. As the car talk was wrapping up Melissa mentioned her admiration for one of their greenhouses, which then led to a long discussion about gardening in our climate; even at 5,500 feet, they grow most of their own food. His wife even gave us nine heirloom tomato plants she wasn't going to plant. 


All in all, it was a great visit for two of the three of us--Esmé didn't have as good a time; too many big dogs wandering around. Actually, Esmé did have a good time. The only part Mitch saw was when we were chasing him down (while the giant dogs tried to lick her) to give him the rest of his parts list. While I knit in the car (a rental--a 2009 Malibu this time; I feel so dirty), she enjoyed sitting in the drivers seat, buckling and unbuckling the seat belt, pretending to steer, and sometimes trying to get a foot near a pedal. Don't worry, the keys weren't in the ignition. She enjoyed the driver's seat so much that she even refused an invitation to look at their lambs.