| Author |
Message |
David Clark (Dclark) (66.156.126.17)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 4:59 am: | |
The First Day
copyright 2004 David Clark/Cochran, Ga.
dclark@outofthesky.com
www.outofthesky.com
I awoke this morning because rain was misting through the open bus window onto my face.
The old GMC 4106 has a bench seat all the way across the back, which ain't no bad sleeping arrangement except one must be cautious about flopping around.
But I don't flop around much in my sleep, or at least I didn't last night. Flopping around takes work and I was wore out.
I got up, slid the windows to only slightly cracked open, walked to the front of the bus, got my thermos full of Waffle House coffee, and sat down on the 2nd row passenger side seat to enjoy my first morning in a bus.
This is not the first morning I've woken up to the sound of rain on a tin roof in a truck-stop parking lot.
When one wakes up in the back of an old pickup truck, one can lay there and listen to the rain, which is nice. In my old pickup truck, I lay there staring at the tin roof three feet above my head and the specially designed window treatments consisting of towels screwed to the frame over the camper shell windows. But then the thought occurs: It sure would be nice to have a cup of coffee and listen to this rain for a little while.
Well, this is a great idea, except the thermos is on the front seat of the truck. This is not a problem. All I have to do is put my shoes on, untie the rope acting as my camper shell inside-lock, open the hatch of the camper shell, let down the tailgate, crawl out into the rain, step off the tailgate into a puddle, shut the tailgate and camper shell hatch, get out my keys to unlock the padlock on the tailgate, drop the keys in the puddle, pick up the keys, unlock the padlock, take the padlock off the hasp, drop the padlock in the puddle, double check the camper shell hatch while standing in the puddle, walk around to the driver's door in the rain, drop the keys in the puddle under the door (which causes me to realize I forgot to get my glasses out of the back of the camper shell), walk back around in the rain to the puddle at the back of the truck, unlock the padlock, drop it into the puddle again, open the shell, let down the tailgate, crawl dripping and wet-footed back into the shell to where my glasses are sitting -- which is of course all the way to the front of the camper shell -- crawl backwards back out the camper shell into the rain again, step down into the puddle again, close down the camper shell complete with gravity and puddles, walk back around and open the driver's door, get in the truck, and have a nice morning cup of coffee.
By this time I'm wet as an old mutt hound dog.
The difference between waking up in a bus and waking up in the back of my old pickup truck is nothing short of startling.
This morning I walked up to the driver's seat, surrounded by the light of a rainy day streaming through 35 feet of windows on each side (no privacy towels necessary as the windows are tinted), got my thermos and cup, stepped back to the 2nd row seat, sat down, and poured myself a cup of coffee. No puddles. No rain. No crawling and dripping. No wet mutt hound dogs. Just like waking up at home. Still an old mutt hound dog, but a dry mutt hound dog. Looking out the big picture window in front of me, which admittedly only affords a view of a parking lot but nonetheless affords a view. After my first cup of coffee, I plugged my laptop into the cigarette lighter outlet that I jerry-rigged before I left Houston, sit back down in my 2nd row seat, and began writing this letter.
I sort of felt guilty as I was flying over from Atlanta to Houston yesterday to pick up the bus, because my old truck has served me so well and been so accepting of all my old-mutt-hound-dog states, wet or otherwise. After almost a hundred thousand miles of mornings and nights riding together, changing my clothes laying down and all the puddles and not enough room to sit up before sleeping and after waking, my old truck and I had a special relationship only developed by sharing the fire of uncomfortable times with another creature. And my old truck is a creature if I've ever seen one.
My guilty feeling began to wear off before I left Houston. The man at the auto parts place where I got my cigarette lighter element and a little stick-on round fish-eye mirror said: "Man, is that your old bus?"
"Yessir."
"How long you had it?"
"About an hour."
"What year is it?"
"1964."
"That is one beautiful machine."
"Yessir, she is."
"Why did you get a bus?"
So I told him about touring and concerts and sleeping in the back of the truck for sixty nights in a row, though without all the details above since he had other customers waiting and besides that anyone who really considers the idea of sleeping in the back of a truck for two solid months at a time can probably conjure up the puddles on their own.
"The bus ought to be a good improvement in your life."
"Yessir, I believe she is."
And, you know, I have to admit I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty when I said that. I think my old truck will understand.
I don't know for sure if I still held any old-truck guilt by this morning when I woke up, but if I did, it went away pretty dang quick as I sat here in my 2nd row seat with my bare, dry feet propped up on the 1st row seat armrest across the aisle, looking out my big picture window, listening to the rain on my tin roof, writing this letter.
Nope, I don't believe I felt any guilt at all.
This old bus has some minor cosmetic issues, just like any other creature who's 40 years old. But one thing I've learned is that worrying about another creature's minor cosmetic issues is a pastime only the young, the rude, the idiotic, and the rich can afford. One thing I know is that any creature with some miles on it, whether human, truck, dog, or bus, that's been locked away in any sort of closet for a year, always responds to being appreciated just as they are, and always responds in a grateful loyalty if loved just like they are.
And I have to tell you -- as I sit here in the 2nd row on my first morning with my old bus, with my bare, dry feet up on the 1st row armrest across the aisle, drinking coffee and looking out my big picture window while writing this letter -- I have to tell you that I love this old bus. Her minor cosmetic issues are nothing more than the laugh lines on a beautiful grown woman's face. I don't know what caused the laughter to put them there. But I know the difference between laugh lines and worry lines, and this old bus's minor cosmetic issues are nothing but laugh lines.
Laugh lines are the melody of the ages.
A happy creature is a good creature to spend time with, and I just have to say that I love my old happy bus, with her laugh lines and a year of being locked away, on this first morning of spending a whole lot of time seeing the world with me. I hear new notes of a happy melody softly echoing around the overhead luggage racks.
I checked my map and it turns out I'm in Grosse Tete, Louisiana, which I believe is Cajun for middle-of-nowhere.
It just occurred to me to think of the line: "And the evening and the morning were the first day."
I'll drink another spot of coffee and head East.
*** |
FAST FRED (4.245.230.138)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 5:48 am: | |
STOP !!!
If your in Lousiana get some great Cajun food and a plate of Craw Daddies for the road trip!
And local cup of brew rather than brand name for real Heart Start!
When you get home , be sure to get Da Book and do ALL the routine maint before begining the conversion.
Oil change engine & tranny , coolant cleanout & flush ,inspect brakes, repack wheel bearings ect.
Then slowly do all the adjustments , shift , clutch , and begin looking for slopy places in the steering (worn splines) and renew as the budget allows.
YOUR gona LOVE driving the Sportscar of Coaches!!,
Welcome to a Great hobby,
FAST FRED |
Don KS/TX (66.82.9.12)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 7:15 am: | |
Thanks David, for sharing all that. Perhaps you have to have "been there, done that" to enjoy it as much as I did. |
Vern1 (63.164.202.130)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 8:17 am: | |
Greetings,
Ain't it wonderful......
As you sit there in your new old friend, visions of a kitchen here, a bathroom there, etc. start to form and you begin a whole new life together and your history starts here.
When you get back home, be sure to hug your old truck and tell her she's not being shunned, just getting a well deserved rest and she is still your run-around-girlfriend.
Loved the story, told with affection, caring and a sense of self worth.
Cheers,
Vern1 |
Rodger in WA (64.70.24.67)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 9:25 am: | |
Congratulations, David, on becoming a full fledged busnut!
I hope this is the beginning of a long and fulfilling relationship with your coach. I'm sure many readers of this Board look forward to frequent stories regarding conversion progress and travel adventures. |
ChuckMC9 (Chucks) (66.167.142.11)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 12:54 pm: | |
"And what is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good--- Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?"
-- Zen and the Art of Motorcycle BUS Maintenance
Congrats, buddy - I'll see you in a few months.
I won't mention how quickly you are planning to get on the road! ;) |
pete (205.188.116.136)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 2:58 pm: | |
david,
remember..now that you got one, you can knock on other bn's doors and ask them to look at their rigs..lol i do it..as soon as i tell them i have a rig.."common in, want something to drink " nev er fails |
Robert Wood (Bobwoodsocal) (4.47.58.156)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 4:44 pm: | |
David, I enjoyed your story very much. hope to see you on the road some day! all the best, Bob |
OAEPalmer (166.89.18.10)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2004 - 5:02 pm: | |
and what is the VIN of your new found companion...?
ain't it sweet...? |
BrianMCI96A3 (65.40.153.206)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Friday, July 02, 2004 - 8:39 am: | |
Congrats David, great story!
Brian |
Jim Wilke (12.46.52.74)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Friday, July 02, 2004 - 2:13 pm: | |
GREAT STORY David!
You have a tremendous talent there. Thanks for sharing it. Congrats on getting a bus. (Even though it wasn't ours.)
Keep the shiny side up!
Jim-Bob |
Daveand mel (65.40.181.225)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Friday, July 02, 2004 - 2:32 pm: | |
I really enjoy reading your stories, and look forward to them. Thanks for sharing them with us. They provide a lift, and today a laugh (dropping keys - been there,etc).
Congratulations on your bus!
Dave and Mel
PD4501-397 |
David Clark (Dclark) (66.156.126.85)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Saturday, July 03, 2004 - 1:32 am: | |
Hello --
Thanks to everyone who wrote saying they enjoyed the essay. I've got another segment in the process, as there was more to the trip.
My 4106 is #2643.
One of 3 purchased by a Charter Co., number 70-73. Mine is #70.
David Clark
Cochran, Ga. |
Tom Caffrey (Pvcces) (65.74.65.65)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Saturday, July 03, 2004 - 9:40 pm: | |
We'll be waiting for it.
Tom Caffrey PD4106-2576
Suncatcher |
TWO DOGS (63.185.97.241)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Sunday, July 04, 2004 - 12:22 pm: | |
isn't it funny ,the memories we create...not six months ago I wrote about the first night I spent in my bus,due to the heater going out on my motorhome...longest time I had spent in the bus without bleeding...WHO...is going to get a nice design ...so we can have a pin to wear...
........I LOVE MY BUS................... |
|