Travel vehicles

My lovely wife and I have traveled with a number of different vehicles over the years. At the time we decided to live out of a tent and do car camping, we really did not have the right car for it. When our daughter went to school she had a little Dodge Neon. Once she graduated and started to make money she decided to upgrade to a new car. My lovely wife and I ended up with the Neon.

I'm not fussy with what I drive. My “image” does not depend on my transportation. The car had roof racks to carry a canoe so it was all good. Our first season I'd added a small receiver hitch to carry a cargo buddy. I figured we needed all the extra cargo room we could get. That winter the car was loaded down pretty heavily -canoe on the roof, big cargo box hanging off the back.

The next season we eliminated the cargo buddy completely. We'd pared down our stuff some. Other gear we packed in dry bags and stuffed inside the canoe on the roof. The little car rode much better.

What I was really wishing for was a classic VW camper van. Maybe it's the old hippie in me but I really liked the romance of those old mini-vans. My lovely wife and I looked at a number of them. One of the things that slowly started to change my mind was that a lot of the vans we looked at had blown engines. Then I found one in great shape.

The woman who owned it was stuck on a price and I was stuck on a lower price. I had cash in hand. Her husband really wanted that cash, but the van was in her name. No way was she going to budge. I left as the marital disharmony was reaching a fever pitch. That's the closest I came to buying one. Considering how underpowered and unreliable they are I probably dodged a bullet.

Right after that I got into running diesels on Veggie. We had an old Mercedes Benz 240D converted to run on WVO. With a small utility trailer on the back for veggie oil our range was 3000 miles. Loaded up with a canoe on top and all our camping gear, it accelerated like a fat man jogging. Eventually it would get to highway speeds. Still died on the hills, but we loved that old car and put 400,000 miles on it.

Later we ran a Ford F250 on veggie. That was a pretty good camping rig. Once we got into sailing it was a great tow vehicle. Unfortunately it was susceptible to rust. I changed both fenders and did a lot of patch work. Then we started to have drive train problems so we let that go.

That's when we won an ambulance at auction and turned it into the veggie van. It it's a good camping rig, fun to drive, and pulls the sailboat well. That's out current set up. It's pretty comfortable with a full sized bed, 12 volt cooler, microwave, and solar electric power.

Once in a while we find ourselves going back to more minimalistic camping. My lovely wife has a Nissan Versa Note. The little hatchback has roof racks for camping gear or a canoe. In a way it's a lot like back when we camped with the Neon all those years ago. We are still fond of tent camping. My lovely wife thinks tents are romantic and who am I to argue with that?

-Sixbears

Next car

One of the best cars I've owned is a 1982 Mercedes 240D. It had about a 100,000 miles on it when I bought it. My lovely wife was working 50 miles away on the other side of the White Mountains. We also used this car on our extended months long winter trips. During the years we owned it we put on an additional 400,000 miles. That's a lot of hard driving.

It was the test vehicle for my vegetable oil conversion experiments. With a 19 gallon veggie tank in the trunk and 28mpg, the car had good range. One year I had a small utility trailer with jugs of veggie in it. The car went 3000 miles without a single gas station stop. My lovely wife fell in love with that car. They built them solid. It wasn't fast, accelerated like a fat man jogging, but ran and ran and ran.

In the end road salt took its toll on the body. The doors and floors were rusting out, all the brakes and rotors were due for replacement, and the exhaust system was also going. That's a lot of money to invest in a car with a half million miles on it. I just could not justify the expense.

Currently my lovely wife is driving an old Cavalier that we inherited from one of my daughters. My mechanic has already informed me that it won't pass the June safety inspection. Rust takes its toll. So next summer we'll be looking for a replacement.

After careful consideration I think we'll try to find another old diesel Benz from the 80s. There are still quite a few of them around and some are still in good shape. Even if I've got to put some money in one it will be worth it.

In this case, they just don't make them like they used to.

-Sixbears

California wants to tell you when to change your oil

California thinks we change our oil too often. I only mention it because it seems these sorts of ideas get field tested in California before spreading to the rest of the country.

Basically, California thinks people change their oil too often. Many people change their oil at 3000 miles, while most manufacturers claim their vehicles can go much longer between changes. California thinks it’s a waste of oil to change it often.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but I don’t think it’s any business of the government’s. I change my oil at 3000 miles or so. That’s something I don’t do lightly with my truck as it takes 12 quarts. The thing is, my vehicles work hard under harsh conditions -subzero winters in New Hampshire and blistering Florida sun. Big loads are hauled up steep mountains and trailers pulled along at highway speeds.

I change the oil myself. What do I do with the old oil? It’s used for fuel. The truck has a totally separate fuel system for running with waste vegetable oil. I add a few quarts to that tank until the crankcase oil is used up. The filter system that removes bits of French fries and onion rings works just as well with bits of metal in the old motor oil.

I freely admit my vehicle system is unique. Of course, government likes to make rules that everyone has to follow. Right now it’s only a suggestion, but when government takes an interest in something, laws follow.

On the flip side, I rarely changed the oil on my old Mercedes. I put in a secondary oil filtration system that filtered the oil a lot cleaner than the standard filter. Once a month I’d change that filter and only added a quart of oil. That engine had 500,000 miles on it when the rest of the car wore out. The engine will have a new home running a generator.

It’s a small thing, this government interference in oil changes. However, it is a symptom of government slowly taking over every aspect of a person’s life.

-Sixbears

At first we backpacked

When my wife and I met, I was an avid backpacker. She soon joined me on a lot of my hiking trips. Even after having kids, we still went hiking. Before long the kids were hiking with us.

Later, we did more canoe camping. We’ve always been water people and a canoe allowed us to take more comfort items. I even built a 20 foot cedar strip expedition type canoe. We had some great times.

Eventually the kids grew up and moved out. At the time, I was involved heavily with an on-line magazine. It occurred to me that as long as I could occasionally get to an Internet connection, I could do my work. My wife quit her job and we hit the road. Our car at the time was a tiny Dodge Neon. We put a canoe on the room, a tent in the back, and loaded up the dog. We spent up to 6 months a year living out of that tiny car.

Then I picked up an old Mercedes 240 D and converted that car to run on waste vegetable oil. It was roomier than the Neon and cheaper to run. I put a trailer hitch on it and towed a small utility trailer. Once again, the canoe went on the roof and the aging dog in the back.

We moved from that arrangement to a big Ford F250 extended cab diesel. It could carry a ton of stuff -and a canoe on top. Like the old Benz, this too was converted to run on waste veggie oil. After my wife had surgery on both shoulders, we thought it best to not do as much canoing. Instead, we got into sailing. Of course, the big truck worked out well as a tow vehicle for the boat.

Now I just picked up an old ambulance to convert into a mini camper. It’ll make a pretty good tow vehicle for the sailboat. This vehicle will also be converted to run on waste vegetable oil. We’ll be able to travel at a more relaxed pace. To avoid paying for hotel rooms, I’d often drive for 24 or more hours straight. I’d leave NH and drive non-stop for up to 1600 miles. With the new vehicle, I’ll just pull into a safe place to stop, crawl in the back and get a good night’s sleep.

Recently my lovely wife was reflecting on how complicated we’ve gotten since our backpacker days. Of course, we aren’t in our 20s anymore. My wife can’t hoist a backpack like she used to. I could, but the trips would have to be either longer in time or shorter in distance. That’s fine once in a while, but I do like to have adventures with my wife. The sailboat allows that to happen. It’s a small enough boat that either one of us can handle it alone, but it’s big enough to be able to comfortably lie down and get some rest.

The common thread in our lives is the desire to go on journeys. We like to get away from it all and see things. Some places become favorites and we keep going back, but we are always searching out new places to go to. When a person travels, they aways learn something. Staying in one place and doing the same routine would be deadly to me. Even though I like where I live and what I do, I still feel the need to travel.

I’ve gone from a 35 pound backpack to tons of vehicles and gear. Where will I be 5 or 10 years down the road? Who knows? Maybe we’ll simplify to living in a yurt half the year and on a small sailboat the other half.

-Sixbears

A meeting of Greasers

I went down to my local garage today. My wife had her car inspected and it was my job to pay the mechanic. He was closing up for a long holiday weekend. We were shooting the breeze when a guy came in with a metal coil in his hand. He was really disappointed to see the garage was going to be closed until Tuesday.

The guy had problem. He was trying to figure out how to install a heater coil in a waste vegetable tank of his old diesel Mercedes Benz. Since we are all guys, we went over to check it out. My mechanic introduced me. The guy recognized my name as I'm the first guy in the area to convert vehicles to run on waste vegetable oil.

He was driving a nice old Mercedes 300 turbo diesel wagon, a classic. The car was in good shape. The conversion was kinda sketchy. He'd bought it already installed. The poor guy wasn't mechanically minded, but wanted to upgrade the veggie conversion. It really needed help. The fuel and coolant lines leaked, and the veggie fuel tank looked like a 10 gallon stock pot with the lid held in place with carpenter's clamps. The best thing that could be said about it was that it worked -after a fashion.

The guy was in the process of replacing the tank with a nice aluminum marine tank. I was able to give him some pointers on how to install the coil to minimize the chance of leaks. He asked me a lot of questions. Apparently, there's a lot of goofy ideas about waste vegetable oil conversions. I've been running veggie for over a decade, have close to 600,000 veggie powered miles in 3 different vehicles I converted. Also helped in a half dozen or so other conversions. At the very least, I'm a talented amateur.

We had a good talk. While he's not personally mechanical in nature, he's willing to do loads of research and ask lots of questions. Also, he's not afraid to hire good help to do the actual work. This car is his retirement car. He'll be done work in a year. By then, he wants the car in tip top shape. Right now, he can afford mechanics. Once retirement kicks in, he'll have a lot less money to play with. His car should have all the bugs worked out of it and he'll be able to drive around for pennies on the dollar.

I think he'll do Okay.

-Sixbears

End of the Benz

I got the word, it'd cost too much money to keep the old Mercedes Benz on the road. When state inspection is up in June, the old car gets parked for good.

Eight years ago my wife and I bought this car to experiment on. I'd read about diesels running on waste vegetable oil, and wanted to experiment with one. We found an 81 Mercedes Benz 240D in Maine, took it for a short test drive, then wrote the guy a check.

This vehicle became a test bed for a whole series of experiments. More importantly, it became our main form of transportation. Let me tell you, it takes a special woman to agree to having the family car be one big experiment. In the early days, we were stopped on the side of the road a fair bit. That's the thing with experiments, they don't aways work out as smoothly as one would like.

I knew a few things about diesels, but not nearly enough. The Internet was my teacher about veggie oil conversions. My local mechanic couldn't help me with the veggie, but he knew his diesels -and was real patient about my questions. It pays to establish a relationship with a top notch honest mechanic.

We aren't just losing out car. It was like a second home to us. When you average 50,000 miles a year in a car, it is where you live. My wife used to have a 100 mile round trip commute to work. Sometimes I'd driver her into work, then pick her up at the end of her shit. Those days we'd put 200 miles on. Then there were the years we'd wander the country, rarely spending more than a few days in one place.

The car had a roof rack for my canoes and a trailer hitch for my utility trailer. One year I hauled firewood for three families using the Benz and the trailer. Sure looked odd out there on the dirt roads. Quite a few people knew the vehicle by sight. Of course, the Grateful Dead stickers all over it did make it stand out. Then there was the constant French fry smell from the exhaust. The old car was a great conversation starter.

Now it's come to the end of its days. It still runs pretty darn good for an engine with a half million miles on it. However, everything is worn. There's not one or two things that'll fix it. Even the body has gotten pretty thin all around.

It has become like the Wonderful One Horse Shay:

The Deacon's Masterpiece; or The Wonderful "One-Hoss Shay"
Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes

A Logical Story

Have you heard of the wonderful one-horse shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it--ah but stay,
I'll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits,
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five,
Georgius Secundus was then alive,
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, -
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,--lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will,--
Above or below, or within or without,--
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
That a chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou,")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it couldn' break daown,
"Fur," said the Deacon, "It's mighty plain
Thut the weakes' place mus' Stan' the strain;
'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke,
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thins;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees.
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,"--

Last of its timber,--they couldn't sell 'em,
Never an axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through."
"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren--where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; -it came and found
The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred increased by ten;--
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came;--
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive,
And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.

Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it.--You're welcome.--No extra charge.)

FIRST of NOVEMBER,--the Earthquake-day--
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldn't be,--for the Deacon's art
Had made it so like in every part
That there wasn't a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thins,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floors
And the whipple-tree neither less nor more,
And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, 'Fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they.
The parson was working his Sunday's text,--
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the--Moses--was coming next.

All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill,--
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet'n'-house clock--
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once,
All at once, and nothing first,
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-boss shay.
Logic is logic. That's all I say.

-THE END-
Oliver Wendell Holmes' poem: The Deacon's Masterpiece; or The Wonderful "One-Hoss Shay"

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-Sixbears