<VV> Road Trip Saga: Yuma to Victoria (very, very long) <---no kidding! It's 1700 freakin' miles!

[Western Canada CORSA]

Some folks have been asking about our adventurous trip bringing a 1961
Rampside w/Scamper Camper from Yuma, Arizona to Victoria, British Columbia
this past weekend.  I am now sufficiently recovered that I should be able to
sit down and put my thoughts in some kind of reasonably coherent form.

Last fall one of our buddies decided he wanted a Rampside.  As he is the
only member of our little clan that doesn't have a 'vair we put things into
high gear and began the search for a Rampside for him.  This culminated in a
reconnaissance trip down the Washington State examining any RS we could find
whether it was for sale or not.  In the end we hit the mother-lode and found
an elderly gentleman that had one on his property that he had sold two years
previous but the current owner had never come to pick it up.  It was a
serious project, but it was still in original blue paint which meant there
was no hiding any bumps, dents or warts.  (Many thanks to Rollie for turning
us onto this vehicle, while so sick he sounded like he had one foot in the
grave)  While we were inspecting this RS the gentleman mentioned that if we
liked this one, then we should see the TWO more he had down in Yuma.  I had
an old friend in Yuma who was kind enough to go out to take pictures of
these 'vairs for us.

One was a white '62 with a scamper, the other a yellow '61.  Pretty soon our
gang had Rampside Fever and we worked it out that Shawn would acquire the
abandoned blue RS, James would take the white one with the camper and I
would fulfill my long held dream of a RS of my own with the Yellow one.
Shortly afterwards we made yet another trip down to Seattle to pick up the
blue Rampside and it has received many hours of work and will be going in
for paint very soon.

Life has a way of taking funny changes and James (and Terri's) new baby
arrived at the end of April and he lost interest in the white Rampside.  I
however, was absolutely in love with the lonely yellow Rampside.  After some
negotiations with the current owner (over several months, much patience
required) it was worked out that I could purchase the Yellow Rampside AND
the camper from the white one.  Turns out, after agreeing to sell the white
rampy to James, the owner had had a change of heart and didn't want to part
with the white rampside, but at 84 there are no plans for camping in the
near future and he was more than happy to sell the camper.

So I've got a deal worked out, the only problem is I've got to get to Yuma,
move a 800lb camper from one RS to another and then get the whole kit and
kaboddle home to Victoria, over 1700miles away!  So begins our adventure....

Steve Paine of CNW, a seriously great guy, and friend, was kind enough to
pick us up at the pier in Seattle, and then drive us to the airport.  "Us"
being myself and Mike (of Westbrier fame) We arrived around 11:30pm of
Thursday May 5th and began the process of ensuring our four bags, weighted
down with tools, reference material and spare parts wouldn't exceed the 50lb
per bag weight limit.  Lucky for us the scales at the check-in counter
aren't turned off and with nothing better to do we began moving items from
one bag to another in search of the perfectly weighted luggage.  In the end
we had each bag within ONE POUND of the maximum allowed!  Unfortunately
U.S.Customs was not so thrilled with a few of my spare parts; the back up
fuel pump and pertronix equipped distributor were pulled from my baggage and
held by the airline.  Kudos to AmericaWest Airline for holding the parts in
trust (they could have simply let the Customs Service dispose of them) and
further kudos to Steve Paine for agreeing to come back into Seattle to pick
them up at their desk.

Our flight left Seattle at 5:40am on Friday and we arrived in Yuma at
11:00am.  The friend I hadn't seen in 13 years came out to the airport,
picked us up, took his to his place for a shower and spent most of the rest
of the day driving me around Yuma in search of parts we'd identified from
our preliminary inspection as being in need of replacement.  Mike had worked
his magic on the carbs, and thankfully the yellow RS was equipped with an
electric fuel pump that allowed us to pump out the fuel lines without
running a dry motor (over six years since it had last turned a crankshaft)
or pumping bad fuel into the carbs.  A new master cylinder, a brake
inspection, bleeding, greasing, etc, etc netted us a vehicle we could take
for a drive by late Saturday night.  We still had several hurdles to
overcome, including new tires and a temp. license to be allowed on the
roadways.  My old friend from Yuma had pointed out that we could get our
temp plate on line, so late Saturday afternoon we headed into Yuma and found
an internet cafe at about 4:05.  Unfortunately the cafe closed at 4:00 on
Saturdays, but some door knocking and serious begging allowed us access to
the net.  Yet more unfortunate, the cafe didn't have a printer, so I saved,
cut and pasted the browser page for the license every way I knew how and
emailed it across to the UPS store to be printed out.  Thankfully the girl
at the UPS store was able to print out one of the images so we now had a
valid AZ temp plate.  It was now 4:40 and we had 20 minutes to travel the
rest of the way from the Foothills into Yuma to the Discount Tire to pick up
both some tires I had ordered for my Corsa coupe at home, and new badly
needed rubber for the RS.  If we didn't make it in time we'd be stuck in
Yuma until at least Monday morning and even facing the prospect that the
whole thing would have to be abandoned.  One more desperate phone call, this
time to the Discount Tire, would they keep their doors open?  We'd even
resort to bribery.  We pulled in just at 5:00, and the crew at the Discount
Tire were good enough to stay a little later to give our mount some new
shoes.  A toast to the guys at the Discount Tire in Yuma, I hope the enjoyed
the flat (24) of beers we tipped them with, as it was well earned!

So we've got the temp plate, new tires and the Rampy is now in reasonable
running order, but there is still more work to-do.  Back to the garage, we
work late into the night getting the last items taken care of.  Before
staggering into bed Mike and I agree that if we don't have the camper
transferred by 1:00 on Sunday afternoon that part of the project will have
to be abandoned, and the Lovely Laura will be doomed to sleeping in a tent
for the rest of her life.

Sunday morning comes early and we struggle out of bed around 8:00am.  The
owner of the Rampside is awake and has assembled a large group of his
retired friends.  The garage has a high cathedral ceiling supported with
strong iron "I" beams.  The plan is to put a large strap around the front
overhang of the camper, and another around the rear, like big belts.  The
belts would be joined on the top, front to rear by a large piece of scrap,
heavy steel angle iron.  The angle iron would be connected to a chain hoist
attached at the highest point in the vaulted ceiling.  Our measurements
showed that if we hit all the connections just right we should have an inch
or two to spare to slide the white Rampside out from under the camper and
then move the yellow one in.  Stretch in the belts/ropes/chains resulted in
being a half an inch short of our goal, but letting some air out of the rear
tires on both vehicles allowed us to barely make the switch.  The Yellow RS
had it's new camper dropped in by 12:45, just 15 minutes short of our self
imposed deadline.

By 4:00pm on Sunday we were packed up and on the road to Victoria, no
working fuel gauge, but we've got the odo and with some conservative
calculations we should be able to figure out when we're going to need gas.
12 miles out of Yuma the speedo cable snaps.  Now we're faced with the
prospect of no fuel gauge, no odo and no speedo.  The lack of a speedo soon
results in the temp light coming on.  We're trying to take it easy in the
desert, but even at the best of times it's hard to hear an engine (all 80hp
btw, coupled to a four speed) in a Rampside, drop a camper on top of it and
it becomes virtually impossible.  We pull over and check the oil (could be
pressure too right?) and while I've certainly seen 'vair engines that felt
hotter after say, a big climb over a mountain pass, we're not going to try
to second guess the temp gauge.  So we try to keep out of the throttle too
much and gently nurse her north through the desert.  The temp light comes on
three more times, but as soon as we're out of the arid and hot air it never
comes on again.  We push on that night focused on the idea that we might
have just timed it perfectly to get through the nightmare of LA traffic.  It
turns out we did, and by 4:00am we are safely north of LA in a Walmart
parking lot, our eyelids are heavy, but we made it.  This gets us to my
second worst case scenario (worst case being abandoning the vehicle even
before leaving Yuma) Now that we are near LA it wouldn't be too difficult to
ship it to Seattle if it came to that.

Monday morning we're up at 8:00am and looking for a decent meal.  An IHOP is
just down the road from where we're parked, but after eating, we're still
looking for a decent meal.  A dash into Walmart nets us a GPS so not only
will we know how fast we're going, but in which direction, at what elevation
and for how long we've been driving.  Right next to Wally's is a Camping
World.  At that moment in time this intersection seemed like nirvana to us,
it had food, and answer to our speedo/odo/fuel issues, AND Mirrors!  I had
looked all over Yuma for some mirrors that would work on the Yellow
Rampside, and you'd think a town who's population doubles each winter from
Snowbirds, many of them driving RVs, would have some mirrors we could use.
But my searching in Yuma had resulted in no useable mirrors, and a co-driver
constantly leaning out the window to check if it was safe to make a lane
change.  But our hopes are fulfilled and Camping World has the absolute
perfect mirrors, fully adjustable and they don't require drilling holes in
the pretty yellow paint.

By 11:00am we're rolling again.  The 80hp motor has found it's sweet spot
between 50 and 55mph and we are becoming adept at giving the big rigs a
quick flash of the lights to let them know it is safe to pull in in front of
us.  Trading speed for heat we nurse the Rampside up the first pass north of
LA, getting down to 25mph on the steepest grades, but once you find the
sweet spot in the right gear, she holds and pulls for all she's worth.  That
night we develop our first squeak.  I've been paranoid the entire time,
refusing to listen to music (headphones and a CD player, it's a barebones
Rampy with no radio, cig lighter, armrests or passenger sunvisor) constantly
on the listen/smell out for the first sign of trouble.  We pull into a
Casino parking lot and I drive around in circles while Mike jogs beside
trying to identify to offending culprit.  He thinks it's the front left
wheel.  Stupidly however, despite being in just about every autoparts store
in Yuma, I have forgotten to purchase a jack, and at this hour, in this
place it's highly unlikely we're going to get one.  Never one to give up, I
walk into the gas station searching for likely prospects to approach.  The
middle aged gent behind the counter seems like a good one, so I approach him
and explain my predicament, and add I'd be more than happy to give him ten
dollars for the rental of his jack for a half an hour or so.  It turns out I
was a good judge of a book's cover (or just lucky) because he had just
finished doing a brake job on his daughter's car and still had all his tools
with him.  Mike wisely ices the deal when the gentleman opens his trunk and
we spot an honest to gawd shop style jack; he whips out a fifty and says
that it should be a good enough deposit to ensure we'll return the jack,
besides, we're Canadian, we don't do that sort of thing.  He agrees and
we've quickly got the front left wheel off.  The inspection doesn't reveal
anything telling, but we repack the bearing just to be safe and Mike, his
stock and trade being paintless dent removal, also stretches out the dust
cap that shows signs on the inside of having rubbed against something.  (At
one time or another somebody had obviously used a hammer and tried to put
the cap back on cockeyed)

And we keep on rolling, ever northward, driving in shifts, eating poorly,
but always moving towards our goal.  I had a huge list of places I would
have like to have stopped at if time permitted, but all those in SoCal have
to be abandoned in the hope that we might make it back for a ferry to the
island on Tuesday night.  When it becomes apparent that we're not going to
make any of the Tuesday sailings it is decided that we have the time to make
a few stops.  The first one is a shower, and some negotiations with a motel
outside of Salem nets us a half hour of hot water for twenty bucks.
Possibly the best twenty dollars I've ever spent.  Underground also heads
the list as just about anything rubber on this vehicle is beyond saving,
plus we've got the Westbrier and Shawn's blue Rampside all under
construction for Portland.

One final stop was a had-to-do.  Joe Macmurchie has been a huge help to our
young "gang" of 'vair nuts here in Victoria, lending out his jack and
sharing his years of experience with us.  A while back he mentioned that Bob
in Portland had a couple of rebuilt FC axles and bearings waiting for him,
he'd bought them several years back but had never had the opportunity to
pick them up.  I knew if we managed to get as far as Portland that an effort
had to be made to pick the shafts up.  Bob had left them at his back door as
promised, but Mike had never met Bob and I knew his eyes would pop out of
his head when he saw a few of the nifty and unique items he has stashed
away.  Seeing we actually had time to spare now, it seemed like a good
opportunity to catch some ZZZzsss.  It was 5:30 on Tuesday night and we
didn't have to be in Port Angeles 7:00am on Wednesday, surely Bob would be
home soon......  Better yet, we were carrying our little-used beds with us,
this would be a good opportunity to catch up on some sleep.  At 7:30pm Bob's
partner Fran knocks on the glass, not at all surprised to see a road stained
Rampside parked at the curb outside her house.   "He's not home yet, but
come inside".  So Mike and I tip toe downstairs and I try to give my
co-pilot the 'vair tour, drawing back to my memory of my last visit, six
years ago.  We set a deadline of 8:30 to hit the road, Bob or no Bob.  When
the designated time rolls around I take my time saying so-long to Fran,
hoping that he just might show.  With my hand on the door knob headlights
swing into the driveway and I get the chance to catch up with Bob, and Mike
gets a first class tour, and some nifty parts to boot!

The party can't last forever though, and by 11:00pm it's time for us to hit
the road once again.  Oregon had flown by, and Washington seemed to do the
same, all until we hit the 101 north from Olympia to Port Angeles.  I've
done it twice before, and it's 119miles always seem to be the longest ones I
know.  It's a slow, winding, two lane highway that travels up and down, and
back and forth along the east coast of the Olympic peninsula.  In day time,
in a tight LM coupe it's a delightful drive.  But overtired, and late at
night after driving some 1700miles it an virtually unknown 44 year old pick
up truck, burdened with a heavy camper, it just seems to take forever.  We
do however manage to keep our attention sharp when we realize that
unbeknownst to each other, we are both avid Barenaked Ladies fans (the music
group, well, and the other kind too, but for the purpose of this story, just
the band).  With BNL's "Gordon" in the CD player and both sets of headphones
on we sing ourselves awake all the way to the ferry. (I only had the
headphones on one ear.... did ya think I was going to give up my paranoia
this late in the game?!?!).  We make Port Angles by 5:30am, but are too
afraid to go to sleep for fear of missing the ferry.  So we busy ourselves
cleaning up and organizing the camper for the final and most fearful stage
of the journey.... Canada Customs. <insert ominous music here>

Canada Customs turns out to be a breeze, simply having to wait while they
filled out the required paperwork, and then paying the GST on the value of
the vehicle.  By 11:00am on Wednesday we were back on Canadian soil.  After
dropping my intrepid co-pilot off at work I swung by the Lovely Laura's
office to show her the new acquisition.  I hadn't even finished her first
short jaunt around the block when she began asking whether we'd be able to
do this or change that to make it "ours", so I can only assume it's got her
stamp of approval.

One final note.  I would like to publicly thank Mike for taking on this near
insane mission with me.  The list of things that could have happened to ruin
our trip is long, and somehow we managed to avoid them all.  Even with all
of our good luck however, it was still an incredibly grueling experience, to
which he never got discouraged and never gave up, even though he had no
reason to do this other than I call him a friend.  He is a solid guy with a
heart of gold and I just want to say "Thanks".

To all those on <VV> that thought the Canadian from Toronto was crazy for
wanting to drive that ebay-'60 from Colorado, this is just to let you know,
that all of us Canucks are a little crazy.  Corvair Crazy that is....

Regards,
Joel