we are making it by littlebabyscion. again. finally!
it’s been a long while since we have taken a roadtrip of any length – and, truth be told, this one isn’t really all thaaaat long either. but it’s longer than just a few hours and so we needed to prep.
we washed and cleaned out LBS for the journey. it had also been a while – and for the last few days we have felt mighty proud driving around in a pristine vehicle (ok, as pristine as 275000 miles can get – shy of sandblasting and repainting the rims – as our son has suggested). we’ve made lists of what to bring and we are carefully planning snacks for in the car because we cannot drive any distance without them.
to say we are excited is an understatement. we also have made sure we have all kinds of other roadtrip paraphernalia – like duct tape, rubber bands, an extra bottle of engine oil, twist-ties, a flashlight – because with 275k one never knows what one might encounter. hopefully, we won’t need any of that. at all. none of it. (hoping that LBS is paying attention…)
it will all be over in a flash. like any vacation or mini-vacation. but the anticipation is delicious and we – like the hosts waiting for us on the other side of the road part of our roadtrip – are squeaking with excitement.
there are heartstrings attached to this vw. mine. it’s been a part of my life since 1971, although it wasn’t specifically mine then. it became mine in 1976, when i “bought” it from my sweet poppo for a token amount of money. just to do the math for you – so you don’t have to (even if you don’t want to know) – that is 47 years ago. this little super beetle has been mine for 47 years.
and it still is.
now it resides in the one spot in our one car garage, next to the lawnmower and the solo stove, a little bit of potting soil and some spare clay pots, the wheelbarrow with the flat tire, under the eaves with the old screen door and the snow rake, the tricycle and the little red wagon, a couple of old webbed aluminum lawn chairs and two zero gravity lounges, just far enough away from the bikes suspended on j hooks, covered with a couple dropcloths, keeping the dust off.
i love it.
it has history, as most things dating back 47 years. it was purchased in germany brand new and my parents drove it all over europe. i was there the day we picked it up on the docks in ny after it was shipped to the states. i was there the day my parents fell in love with a giant painting of fjords listed for sale at a seafood restaurant and it wouldn’t fit in the bug so after dinner we waited while my dad drove home to get the other car. i was there when driving in snow, i slid directly into the curb and nothing happened. i was there when my sweet dog missi pooped in the backseat well. i was there adventuring, layer-caking jobs, buying cornflakes to survive, with the windows down blasting 1970s AM radio. i was there with my bug on the beaches, out east on the island, driving in the humid heat of florida, in wisconsin the day i went into labor with my baby girl. i was there on the re-homing drives from new york to florida, florida to wisconsin, state to state. through thick and thin it has been a constant. even if it’s in the garage. even not driving.
i suppose my dad would say to sell it. and i’ve thought about it. there is likely someone out there who would relish rebuilding the engine again, re-oiling its joints and changing out rubber stuff that needs changing. (personally, i sort of like the idea of that restoration project myself.) and then, the bug would be driven and gleeful.
but i don’t know. i mean, even director/producer ron howard drives an old cherished bug around california. so there are other people who “get it” – driving an old bug around here – or anywhere else one might live.
both my kids (and probably most people who know me) can attest to my threadiness. so no one would be surprised that this little bug is still in the garage. i am heartened by the fact that my neighbor has an old triumph in her garage, same sort of story. it’s nice not to be the only one…
we pushed it out of the garage to clean – a yearly (or so) event. checking for evidence of chippies homesteading, with a soft sponge and a microfiber cloth i gently washed it. and then i did a photo shoot as it smiled and mugged for the camera. it knows how much it’s loved.
there is often a need to step away – these days. for us, that mostly means a hike at the end of the day or a longer hike on the weekends. sometimes it means getting in littlebabyscion and just driving.
we are a little limited by lake michigan – we cannot mosey east from here. but we can mosey north and south and west.
mostly, we go west. a little north or south thrown in for good measure and to shake it all up a bit, but west. east would mean up and over the u.p. or down and around – through gary, indiana – which is no one’s idea of a good mosey. so. west.
it doesn’t take much for us to decide. our days are filled with trying to sort to optimism, to wishing wishes and dreaming dreams. we work on finding ways and places we can contribute all we have learned and worked at in these last decades. sometimes that is easier said than done. and so, there is often a need to step away, yup.
the wander women – amazing and truly inspiring thru-hikers – have a QR code on their youtube channel. when you point your phone camera at it, it brings you to a place where, in multiples of $5, you can express appreciation, channel sisu, buy them a cup of coffee (or multiple cups, for that matter).
it’s been suggested manyatime to us that maybe we should have a QR code. our very own. i know that we are pretty verbose – lotsa words – maybe more words than anyone wants to read, but you can pick and choose, like from those overburdened menus at tgif’s. but they’ve encouraged us, adding very generous words like “we love to read your posts” or “this would be a way we could say thank you for something that touches us”. their thoughts – QR trail magic – we could use it for coffee or maybe a glass of apothic or…if you wish, it could be thought of as gifting us with miles. miles of thru-hiking middle age. and so anytime we just needed to step away – go find zen in the country outaways west from our home – we could use those miles. to keep going and going and going, thanks to you and you and you.
and then, we could maybe – just maybe – stop and get a coffee or a piece of flourless chocolate cake on our way. if coffee and flourless chocolate cake and red silos and gravel roads don’t help, nothing will.
and so, with the pompoms of people we are grateful for, our QR code is born. we’re gonna name himherthem “qrky”.
and just like that – on a beautiful sunday driving a back road in wisconsin – little baby scion turned 250,000 miles.
we drove with the camera ready…ready to take a video of the 249,999-250,000 turnover, ready to stop and take a picture on the side of the road of this momentous moment. this tough, scrappy little vehicle is intrepid. with a few bumps and scratches (like the rest of us) and a few rattling noises (also like the rest of us) littlebabyscion diligently trods on, dutifully and reliably chalking up miles and experiences with us. and we are devoted to it.
we knew it was coming. we were less than thirty miles away, a mere backroads drive to lake geneva to pick up a piece of flourless chocolate cake in anticipation of our celebration of this no-frills little square vehicle. we planned our sunday afternoon around it, loaded dogdog in and, in sunday-drive fashion, took our time both on roads we knew and roads we turned onto, just to see where they went. we pulled over when it turned. it was astounding to actually think about: that this little car had safely driven me/us 250,000 miles. that’s 83 times across the united states! we sat there and thought aloud about all the places we’d gone in it, all the roadtrips, and all the really significant events that had happened.
when littlebabyscion turned 235,235 miles i recounted some of those; it is no less inspiring to me now. littlebabyscion delivered my girl and my boy – and all their stuff – back and forth and back and forth and back and forth etc etc etc to college dorms and apartments. littlebabyscion brought babycat home from florida. littlebabyscion drove across the country loaded with cds for concerts and wholesale and retail shows. littlebabyscion picked up david at the airport for the first time we met and drove us away on our honeymoon. littlebabyscion drove dogdog home from a farm in a little town on the river on the other side of the state. littlebabyscion took us back and forth and back and forth and back and forth to florida to see my sweet momma in the last of her life. littlebabyscion was our haven the day, on the highway to see her, my momma died. it held us safe, a buttress for our grief. littlebabyscion moved us all – with dogdog and babycat ferry-quivering each time – to the island littlehouse and then home again. littlebabyscion has determinedly climbed mountain passes to get to see our girl and driven in traffic jams out east and on chicago’s highways to see our boy. littlebabyscion has slept in rest areas, restaurant lots, parks. littlebabyscion has eluded storms and hail and snow and straight-line winds. like 20 said, when he heard of its milestone, “to the moon and back!”.
i asked steve, our miracle mechanic, what i would do when littlebabyscion reached 300,000 miles. “keep driving it,” he said.
he’s right. keep driving it.
so one of these days, a while from now, expect to see this same shot with 300,000 miles on the odometer.
we haven’t just dreamed at the rest area. we have out and out drooled at the rest area. faces planted against the window, pillow smushed between forehead and glass, i’m sure we’ve been a spectacle.
one time we pulled into a rest area in iowa when it was still dark. we chose a spot close to the building. we just needed a few minutes to close our eyes. when we woke up, the sun was up, the rest area was full of people coming and going and our bodies were stiff from a shocking three hours of rest-area-sleeping. barely able to move, i slowly unfurled from my up-close-and-personal relationship with the steering wheel and d attempted to bring his foot down from the dashboard. with plenty of square-car-glass making us visible – like a snowglobe scene without the snow – we were right in the line of vision of absolutely anyone who had stopped to use the facilities. our wrinkled faces and the fog on the windows next to our baked-sweet-potato-smushy-visages belied any other story except resting-at-the-rest-area. i’m sure we were charming to look at.
it is not without stopping at a few rest areas that little baby scion has 237,000 miles on it. our road warrior days are accompanied by snacks and punctuated by rest areas. it’s a roadtrip symphony of necessities.
when we were driving long distance just a few days ago we googled the approximate distance across the united states, which, surprisingly, is around 3000 miles. (kansas and pennsylvania and north dakota make it seem so much further, and, going the other way, so do georgia and indiana.) but i digress. so that means that the current mileage equates to having driven this little vehicle 79 times across the country.
we have visited rest areas in most states in this nation and we can tell you where the nice ones are, like the ones in ohio on i80. we can also tell you where the scary ones are: montana, a certain rest area down south where you drive about a mile off the road and a couple security guards watch you walk in and out of the building. you can get a free cup of coffee at the rest area on the eastern side of colorado and orange or grapefruit juice entering florida. you can get maps and brochures at most rest areas and the ones in indiana specialize in those magazines where you can find coupons for hotels you would rather not stay in. pennsylvania has full-service areas, as does one little spot in kansas. you can “eat and get gas” as they say, the word-smithing on that not expected to be classy. you are reminded that this is a rest area, after all.
the rest area on the way home from on-island is always a stopping ground these days. for various reasons we won’t list, the little blue sign on the side of the road is a welcome sight and we eagerly pull into a spot. recently, after packing for hours and then leaving, we leaned back and closed our eyes at this wayside. full-out dreaming commenced. when we woke, which wasn’t too long after, we shared notes and our surprise about falling asleep in a matter of minutes. d said, “if you can dream at the rest area, you’re supposed to be there.” yup. i bet all kinds of safety engineers would agree with that.
it was in iowa again – this state must make us tired – just a few days ago on a trip when we traveled 24 hours in a 36 hour period of time. having sampled (read: gorged on) the whole buffet of snacks, i was driving, desperately seeking the little blue sign, pining for the chance to close my eyes.
alas, finally. the rest area. we pulled in. d handed me a pillow. i laid my face against the window. and voila! a sight to behold.
reverse threading 