Pilot to Co-Pilot

It's been snowing here a lot, two inches total last night alone. This has made driving fun. And I backed my car into a skip, but no damage I can't repair this summer. But the roommate, one Stuntman Mike, drove into town to check up on why I can't receive picture messages. It was a two man job. One person to do the driving, the other to keep the windows clear and transparent. Why this is important, one must understand how the defrost system of a 1970 bug works.
On the front end of the car, the pointy end for you you noobs, it's accomplished through a devilish combination of fresh air and heated air. The idea is sound in principle, the fresh air will assist in the movement of hot air across the windshield, thus removing any obstruction. That's the idea. There are two problems with this. One, there is a constant stream of cold air entering the vehicle. Two, it's like trying to nail jello to a moving poodle playing racquetball. It just doesn't work. And on the back end, it's a heating latice like any other modern car.
You can read the forums and techincal manuals, they throw around words like "Doghouse Flaps" and "Well sealed trunk". Well those don't exist on a 38 year old car. They can, but that takes money and that's going to things like rent and if I smoked, cigarettes. Good thing I don't smoke. But I digress.
In the modern world the heat is fan driven and it does it's job wonderfully. But in my car, I need a copilot with either a scraper and or a squegee to periodicaly clear my front windows. I end up using my only side mirror as my rear view but only on the drivers side because my real rear view mirror has fogged up. My blindspots are truely blind as I can't see through the condenstation. So I either don't change lanes, have to ask my co-driver, or guess. I don't like that last option.
But the traction has been good recently.

The car has been acting strangely as of late. Well not that most would notice, but I drive him enough that I can see it, or more feel it. The car is warm on the last run of the day. The heaters actually do their jobs. I can put down the hood on my jacket, doff my cap, ditch the gloves and no matter what the weather outside may be I'm suddenly and for the first time all day comfortable in my little British Racing Green cocoon. It's a rather remarkable feeling, very much like the smug feeling you get when driving in the rain.
It was nice tonight, a light snow was falling and I just rode along listing to the engine and watching for rough spots. There was just enough light to illuminate the countryside and it was a delightful motor home. I'm so glad I get to enjoy these moments with my car. Moments where time seems to stop, worries and cares vanish, and all that remains is the ten minute drive through rural Montana in a real winter wonderland. And I'm taking the time to look around at the view, and noticing maybe for the first time the snow on the fence posts and the way the mountains look so much different covered in in green and white. I think I shall try and motor north one of these days so I can enjoy more of it. And if able, I suggest you do the same.

I Take It All Back

Well it's been two or more weeks of solid snow and crappy roads. And I retract everything I've said about trying to drive my car. It's bloody brilliant is what is. A true technical achievement beyond what many "modern" cars are capable of. And I've learned over the last few days it's not the car, but it is the driver. And until I learned how to drive my car, I was failing Zazu.
A few nights ago, never mind the exact date, I was going home in the stark and barren winter streets and a thought occurred to me. Can I do a 180 degree turn an intersection? POWWWEEERRRRR! Spent the next half hour going sideways around corners and in general acting like a cock. But that was the moment when I learned the car. How much steering to give it, when to brake and all the other interesting stuff that is taken for granted in this the modern age of the automobile.
You see with a car like mine, you feel the car. Not through some electro-sensory feedback or an artificial feel system, but through the nuts and bolts and the seat of your pants. You can't think as it's simply too slow, you have to feel.
I liken it to operating a steam locomotive, which I also do. It's not about what a gauge tells you, like in a car. It's what your eyes tell you, and your ears. How is the engine working, what's the exhaust look like, how is the road ahead, what does it sound like. Your not inside the vehicle so much as you are outside of it. What happens inside is simply a culmination of all this.
Driving an old car is very much like this. And in these conditions it's even more apparent. I find myself looking at the snow and slush and making decisions about where I want to go, how much throttle to add. I'm not worried about what my speedometer or my tachometer reads. They are just gauges. What I want to know is how the car is functioning, what it's feeling.
And so far it's not put me wrong. Sure there are a few tight spots here and there, like running into a snowbank to avoid a collision, or missing a roundabout, but all and all it's been a wonderful experience. I look forward to continuing to drive my old car in these terrible conditions.
To you and yours happy holidays from all of us here at Life In The Old Car Club!

I hate to do it but the Beetle is staying home until this weather clears. I feel as if every time I drive it I lose a little luck, and at some point it will run out. I will however take it out to show my brother when he comes to town.

Short

My Dearest Gertrude,
The car is warming up for yet another trip into the arctic abyss that is Missoula, Montana. I know not what my journey will bring, but I know it is far to important that I do not tarry. My newer car has failed me. Only the old car soldiers on. This is a journey not of wanton desire, but of necessity. For those of you who follow this blog, know this. I have loved and lived and lost. I only hope you can follow where I cannot go and bring joy and solace to this world. If these are my last, then tell those I loved I love them as well. The time approaches, I must venture out.
Freezing under the Big Sky,
Frank Jones


Sorry just had to get that out. But yes, my 1999 Nissan is down with a thermostat issue. And the high today was 5 degrees Fahrenheit. It's cold. And it's icy. But I must go.

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EDIT

I've returned with a few notes. The back end of my car reallly wants to be the front end. And it seem the front end is happy to oblige more often then not. And sometimes with no provocation at all. It's almost as if a conversation goes on:

Front End: Hey Back End! Wanna lead for a bit?
Back End: Golly Front End! I'm not sure. James want's us to be going in a straight line. See how careful he's being?
Front End: Oh, he won't mind! Remember what we did at Broadway and Russel? It's almost like he enjoyed it, with the counter steering and all. Maybe this time he'll let you lead!
Back End: Well if you say so...
(Car swerves wildy, much counter steering ensues)
Back End: I told you so!
Front End: You telegraphed. Now this time lets give him no warning at all!

And he lack of heat is terrible. Really terrible. But I shall keep at it!

Father Into thy hands....

So we've had our first big snow here in the Garden City. Started at 11:00 last night. Snow warnings and the whole bit. Woke up to a winter wonderland. At last a true test of the Beetle in crystallized H2O! I've been waiting for this since October. Everyone applauds the handling of the Beetle in snow. Bury them in an avalance, the'll keep ticking. Two feet of snow? Plow drivers got to get to work somehow, righ? And let me tell you it's cold out. Very cold. Woman moved east to escape this kind of mind numbing cold. And the wind, musn't forget the wind! So I suited up and headed to the driveway where Zazu, that's my old car, waited. I'd like to think with a sneer of contempt on his face for the white substance covering our trailer court.
I will say this for the VW Beetle, the air cooled engine does indeed start easy on the first try, even with the car buried in 2.5" of snow. Transmission was a bit stiff, but that's normal when it's cold. Backing up was good, missed the garbage container, and first gear engaged. Just push the gas, right?
All hell broke loose. Want to learn to drive a 1970 Hemi muscle car on ice? Drive a 1970 VW Beetle on hard packed snow. The city and county don't seem to believe in plowing the roads, so it's icebreaking the whole way. And driving a 1970 VW Bug on these roads on "All-Weather" tires is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. Okay, maybe I would. Because it's as close to suicide as I've come. It's great. MASSIVE understeer followed by heart stopping oversteer. I spent the whole morning to a pretty good Jeremy Clarkson impression. POWWWEEERRR! And that's quite a feet with only 53hp.
On TV however it's much easier to drive. I know the theory, I know the idea behind it. Get understeer? Cure it with a dab of throttle, kick the back end out and voila! Not quite. Putting a car sideways on a major road without meaning to is a sure fire way to get the old heart rate up. Timing is what saved me. I never know what kind of traction I'll have, so the bigger the gap, the more room I have for error. It was like being in an episode of the Dukes of Hazzard. Do it on purpose it's a load of fun. Do it accidentally and you're prepared to talk to St. Pete.
I made it home alright, but I need to work on the car. More traction and weight will help. So in the meantime I shall sit right her, watch crappy movies and drink hot chocolate. Because it's not fit for man, nor beast, nor bug out there right now. Stay safe y'all!

Heat or Lack Thereof

Woman (The singular, not the plural) refused to ride in my car. Really, she did. I'd offer to take her on a motoring extravaganza and she would want to stay home. My classic made her nauseous. Now on looks alone, possibly, but this highlights one of the downsides of classic car ownership. I think some background is in order.
The beetle heater is powered by a pair of heat exchangers on the exhausts. If the engines on you have heat, right? Not so fast, see there are a few minor downsides. The first is the smell as they warm up. You'll swear you have an exhaust leak. And with all the tubes and pipes, something will go amiss and you'll suddenly lose defrost all at once. Now being slightly cold, breathing what you swear is exhaust, and having to touch your companions leg every time you want to adjust the heat does make for an interesting driving experience I'll grant that.
But that is also part of the fun! You don't know when your heat will actually start working. I've got an idea this winter to help cover fuel costs, bet on the heat! I'll take a poll before the car is started about when and where the heat will actually begin to warm the car and not just spew hot air in the foot wells. Have you ever seen hot air freeze solid? It's not a pretty sight. But the winner of the betting pool gets to fill my car with gas, which at current prices can be under a tenner.
All this talk of heat reminds me of my first true classic car experience. My family for years drove a 1981 VW Vanagon. Had it for thirteen years before is self destructed on Highway 93. It had the same heating set up as my current classic car, with for a vehicle that big isn't much of one. I have family in the heartland and we were driving to meet them. In the middle of winter. We had brought along some Montana water for them to try, it being so pollutant free and delicious. Well we put it in front of the rear heater vent. And it froze solid. Ah, life in the slow lane.
Merry Christmas!

My life in the Old Car Club

There are many ways to enter The Old Car Club, or "The Establishment" to those in the know. You can show up at a Barret-Jackson auction and shell out half a million dollars or more on the car from your youth, or your fathers youth for that matter. A cherished family member can die, or you find it in a barn and get it for an amazing price. I however came into The Establishment by none of these ways I'm afraid. Oh I do watch Barret-Jackson when I can, and I have had family members die. And if I buy anything in a barn it'll be my Case steam tractor I dream about. No I'm afraid I entered as many people do these days, a happenstance on Craigslist and loan from my bank of $1,500. Thank the Lord for Credit Unions and a car I've already paid off. My entry ticket? A 1970 Standard Volkswagen Beetle Sedan in what I like to call British Racing Green with a hole in the floor you could pass a bowling ball through.
I'm not sure what possessed me to purchase a vehicle eleven years older then myself. Well if I'm to be brutally honest with you, and myself, the truth is romance. Where is the romance in maintaining a 38 year old car you ask? Of finding parts for it? In driving it through a Montana Winter? Well to know that we must start at the beginning. The very beginning.
In the beginning there was God. God created man. Man created car. And he saw it was good. So he made another car. This made the First Car an Old car and The Old Car Club, or "The Establishment" to those in the know, was born. This cycle repeated again and again until New Car was truly the establishment of progress! And then for some unfathomable reason, Man buys Old Car again even though New Car runs well and is much safer, faster, more economical, and more friendly to the environment. And Woman, who showed up while man was figuring out what options to put on New Car doubted and laughed at Man, knowing the hardship and monetary drain he has just purchased, because she is and always will be right. So it has been since time immemorial. Unless you count the first car of course because there was no Old Car at that point. And the cycle repeats to this very day.
Now romance comes in many forms, in many different ways, to many different people. But for petrol heads, it can only come on wheels. And for some of us, older is better. But not because it's old mind you, not atall. Because the vehicle in front of us was once new.
I should explain that for those of you not members. We're not buying the car as it stands in front of us at the time we buy it, we're buying the car it will be. And that is always a much cheaper proposition in our minds eye before we put our money down. The sound, the feel and the smell all conspire to set our hearts racing and we see our soon to be family member not old, but new and pristine. Racing down the autobahn with driving gloves and a scarf on, taking Ginger Rogers to dinner, the valet intoning "No check needed for you sir!". We'll restore it from top to bottom, inside and out. Bring back the glory that for some reason only we can see. We put our money down and prepare ourselves.
And then a strange thing happens. The car, which we could imagine new and restored suddenly becomes the pile of rust and missing parts we've just bought. Funny how you didn't notice the wheels are missing and it's on a flatbed even though you've been looking at it since you arrived. This hard truth can take a while, helped along by an irate significant other and a steadily shrinking bank account but inevitably reality and fantasy will balance each other out. And we stand in the cold light of day with a car that doesn't run, no girlfriend, wife, or mistress and twenty dollars to our name. That's how cars end up on concrete blocks in peoples front yards in case you were wondering.
But even in this most depressing of states, The Establishment will shine through. Another driver will lift a wave off the steering wheel as they drive past in their old car. Someone will stop and admire your car, maybe regale you with stories of how they owned a car just like it or new someone else who did. It's subtle way we members tell each other they know what you're going through. They too have fought to find tires, scraped rust until there was no floor left, fought their engine on a cold morning and lived without defrost. This is what owning an old car is.
So I am a proud member of The Old Car Club and look to my fellow inductees for wisdom and guidance. I drive in another time. My grandfathers learned to drive in cars like this. Before power steering and anti-lock brakes. Before people cared about cup holders and hands free wireless. I drive as generations before me have and trace it back to the first cars. When you had to be your own mechanic, navigator and witch doctor just to keep your car running. And I'll be the first to admit I'm smug about it. Very smug. Because I have found a romance only a select few will get the opportunity to know. And some day my car will be restored as a saw it when I first laid eyes on it and feel hopelessly in love. I can't wait.
"Remember I'm pulling for ya. We're all in this together"-Red Green