The Volkswagen van, or microbus, was well known as an underpowered, unheated, tin box full of bumps and rattles. There’s nothing comfortable about those utilitarian “go-slowers”. Even when brand new they were way behind the technological curve. They’d be useful to sit in to ride out a mild rain if there was nothing better available. Things that would be better would be almost anything, including a blue tarp, trash bags, or a cardboard appliance box. Still, it held fond memories. I remember racing away in one at nearly half of the speed limit. I remember being so cold inside of one it’d been warmer to roll down the windows and let the snow in.
Still, the feeling of being in touch with the road and the wind was exhilarating. Even with skinny tires that followed every crack in the asphalt, driving barbaric vehicles was fun. I guess it would be closest to zip-lining or hang-gliding. Maybe it was more like crawling in a rusty barrel and having your brother push you down a hill and over a cliff.
I found myself feeling nostalgic for that pure thrill of motoring.
I walked to our new Cherokee. The door was locked but the Jeep recognized me and the fob in my pocket. It automatically unlocked the door. Come to think of it, it’s impossible to have OCD and a newer car at the same time. My OCD includes a fear of losing things and a phobia about leaving doors unlocked. When my OCD flares I lock the vehicle, walk 5 steps, and then go back to make sure it’s locked. The car unlocks because I’m near the door and the door has a sick sense of humor. The only way to confirm the door is locked is to stash the fob 25 feet away from the car and then try the door handle. Then I have to run back to the fob to make sure thieves or packs of rabid raccoons haven’t stolen it. Then I have to check the door again. You get the idea.
Unlike the VW with the ignition key you have to jiggle to fire up the engine, I only have to push a button to start my new ride. The Jeep fires up the TV screen, adjusts the temperature, and focuses the back-up camera. With power windows, cruise control, XM Bluetooth, and 18 way auto-adjustable Shiatsu saddle, driving is barely an activity at all.
Instead of paying attention to driving I lost myself in the “old man zone”.
When I was an obedient child the parental supervisory units would leave me at home alone because I was so obedient. As soon as the car rounded the curve I’d head out to the pickup truck. It was a 40-something Dodge with a split windshield and split
personality. It took a lot of effort but by setting the choke, turning the key to “on”, pumping the accelerator, and pressing the starter switch the beast would sometimes start. Grinding the stick into the low range, feathering the clutch, and praying got the truck moving and we were off. I felt every bump and every rock on the oil lease roads. Even at 15 miles an hour the bone shaking ride was wonderful. I was careful to get the truck back in its exact spot before the groceries came home, so I got to drive without suspicion.
When I was old enough I acquired a 1955 Buick Special. I had a radio and an automatic transmission. The shock absorbers had quite absorbing years before but I didn’t care. Unlike the VW bus it had heat and it flew like the wind. It was pure and joyful to drive it.
Maybe the thrill of simple motoring is akin to the pioneers firing up their prairie schooners and feathering the clutch to settle new lands and create fabulous medical plazas. Maybe it’s just nostalgia for simpler times when we were broke and couldn’t afford XM Bluetooth.
That simplicity and freedom must be why people like to ride motorcycles. I’ve never ridden one, but I assume the wind in their hair and bugs in their teeth endears the cyclist to the cycle.
Whatever the reason, I miss the simple motoring. I’d like to be able to roll my window down an inch without tapping a button 14 times while being unsuccessful in opening it just a bit. It feels good to downshift to roar up a hill. It can even be fun freezing a little in the drive-through.
Definitely, we need to get rid of the fobs and the other modern conveniences. Living the nostalgic life is nice. The bumps and cold builds character.
I’ll keep the XM radio though, I’m nostalgic for the oldies stations.
Fini.
You can contact Charlie via email at geezer.rocker@gmail.com or by mail at PO Box 378, Norris City, Il 62869. You should buy his books “Tales From Geezer Rock” and Geezer Rock Daily Demotivational” on Amazon.com.
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