The Hippie Van

Hey everyone,
It occurred to me that some of you might be curious to see the Hippie Van – as my dad and Debi called it – and to learn more about it. It is a 1985 Volkswagon Vanagon "Westfalia". The "Westy" refers to a conversion from the standard passenger van to the camper model performed by the company Westfalia. It has a pop-top roof that makes room for extra sleeping quarters and a built-in kitchen complete with propane fueled cooking range and a refrigerator. I'll post some interior shots and more along the way. Hopefully there will be none of me conducting roadside repairs (photos appear below).

As you can see from the photos, the exterior is white and not without some cosmetic imperfections. But the van is in pretty good shape overall – inside and out – and is quite solid "under the hood" even though the engine compartment is located in the rear.

I told some of you before that it has an older air-cooled engine. I'm sorry, that was incorrect. It is a Wasserboxer, as they say in Germany, or waterboxer (as in water-cooled). It is a 4-cylinder horizontally opposed engine, 2.1 liter displacement. It has a manual transmission, four-speed plus reverse. So far I've been impressed with its power. Far from being the fastest vehicle on the road, it has demonstrated decent macht and has good pep for such an old rig. I surpassed 200,000 miles on my way to my uncle's house but I believe this particular engine only has about 60,000 miles on it.

I have a tradition of naming my vehicles, usually giving them multiple nicknames that are allegorical or symbolic of their character. It is something that must be earned and not just a label I slap on any old car. Gender plays a role, and I'm pretty sure the hippie van is a boy. So far, I'm leaning towards Jerry (Garcia), Woody, and Bruce. My dad named everything Bruce for a period of time; his cat, his boat (legally named "Bruce the Boat" for maritime registration and emergency purposes), even his goldfish were named Bruce.

I was told it was snowing yesterday back in my hometown of Girdwood, Alaska. A visit to my Facebook account was riddled with comments on the weather, ranging from lamentations to professions of glory. In the spirit of the wintery spring, I leave you with a favorite poem of mine by the great American poet, Robert Frost:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.  
His house is in the village though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow.  

My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a farmhouse near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The darkest evening of the year.  

He gives his harness bells a shake  
To ask if there is some mistake.  
The only other sound’s the sweep  
Of easy wind and downy flake.  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.


- Robert Frost

p.s.: Thanks to Patrick Scardina for the phrase "The Spiritual Highway" from the previous post. I stole it from him and he deserves credit. Also, thanks for the kind words of advice and support from everyone. It's been a wonderful trip so far.

The Hippie Van parked in front of my dad and Debi's house in Virginia.

Jerry/Woody/Bruce's good side (pay no mind to the mismatch hub caps).

The rusty side (along the lower side panel). I love the antique vehicle plates.