Another Town and One More Show

It was that time of year again and so off we went to that local Volkswagen show, the one at the race track a few towns over. It's mostly for the newer Volkswagens, but it's so close that it's kind of silly not to go. So once again we got up unnaturally early and drove the Bus over there. No, I will never understand (or really ever quite trust) morning people. It's just not right.

The weather was its usual extreme: in past years it's either been unseasonably hot and bright, or unseasonably frigid and windy. It went with frigid this year, which was really very kind of it; the swap meet part (where we were) is held at the top edge of the racetrack (the track being set into a bit of a hill, like the amphitheater at Pompeii, come to think of it) and the wind just loves to come screaming across it at top speed. But we managed to set up in such a way that the Bus was blocking most of it. Well, in theory, anyway. I suppose it did, kind of; but given the ground clearance on it really it just funneled all the wind underneath it, which meant that it was all focused on our lower legs and feet. And when your feet are cold, the rest of you probably is too, even if you're wearing your winter coat and a scarf, which of course I was, because I'm no fool. I know that April in New England is really still a winter month, daffodils or no.

So we pretty much froze, which was unpleasant but not unexpected; though at least it didn't rain.

But bizarrely enough, freezing weather or no (and there were an awful lot of frankly insane people in of all things, flip-flops) the place was packed. When we looked down at the track, where the show cars were parked, it was completely full, which it certainly had not been the past couple of years. It was even more remarkable because this year it was (unavoidably) scheduled for the same day as another big VW thing in Connecticut, which you would have thought would draw off the crowds.

There were also a lot more old Volkswagens there down in the showfield, and so a lot more old Volkswagen enthusiasts walking around, which was good for us as they of course do need parts. Which meant we were pretty busy. Here's the spread. It's the usual.

We (well, Tara) also talked to quite a few guys looking for other parts; in fact one of them came by the house the next day and bought some more stuff, which is all right in my book. There were also a few guys who stopped by and asked if this was Walter's stuff, which of course it was; two of them were guys who had known my father from way back. I knew who they were, or at least their names; it had probably been thirty years since I'd seen them and would not have recognized them. They asked about my father, naturally, and were not surprised to find he'd died last year. There were other people there who'd known him too, or had bought parts (or cars) from him at one point, or who used to come over every week and learn about Volkswagens from him. It was very strange, the way they talked about it; like he was this Volkswagen guru dispensing precious wisdom, while they sat rapt at his knee as a disciple. It struck me as really very odd. Maybe because it sounded so fatherly. Which is not something I, personally, ever experienced him to be, this person who was my father.

All in all I'd call it a success, though we didn't make as much as we usually do at the other, more specifically old Volkswagen-themed meets; still, it's worth it, and gave me enough pocket change to get some perennials on the way home. Which I planted in the gardens I have dug in this yard that used to be covered with junk cars. I'll call that a victory, one of a distinctly alchemical nature. It is also, I suppose, a kind of revenge. I will take it.

You're not my father! That's impossible!

Growing up in the 80's recession, we had lots of hand-me-down toys,  toys from the dump, but rarely ever any current must-have toys such as Star Wars action figures. 

I'm sure we would have loved Star Wars figures,  with us being pretty much that perfect age (I was 6 when the first movie came out).     I don't think we were disallowed toys like this on matter of principle but I guess collecting Star Wars figures could get expensive, as I seem to recall them being like $3 each back when they were new.   (I do recall having a C3PO but that was it)

Of course, some years later I guess our hoarder dad saw these trays at the dump and thought they made ideal screw-sorting out trays!  Add to that the insult that 70's/80's Star Wars figures are much sought after these days, so stumbling across these empty cubbies with their tantalizing labels of what's not inside of them.. well it's like finding the empty box to something really cool missing from your childhood and inside is a bunch of dirt and rust, not that toy you wished was inside.

Makes we want to clean out these trays and spend $800 on ebay finding all the guys that go in these trays, just to recapture that lost bit of denied childhood.

"Obi-wan told me enough..  He told me you killed my father!

No.. I am your father!

NoooOOOoooOOOO! "

Yikes.. Imagine if Vader was a hoarder on top of being Dark Lord of the Sith.

-Tara

Another Event

Another Sunday, another Volkswagen event. This one was a good hundred miles away; and if you think O pish, tosh! That's not far at all! do please keep in mind we went in the old raggedy Bus. It was a loooooong trip, let me assure you.

But at least it wasn't making that grindy noise in the back any more, as Tara finally got around to replacing the (other) back bearings; and it's true, the thing both got us there, and back again, which is never to be taken for granted with an old air-cooled Volkswagen.

So we got there, to a little hall named after (in a style reminiscent of Red Green) the majestic moose, and drove around back, where we set up in the right field position of their little baseball diamond. And then we started hauling out the boxes of junk, I mean, shit, I mean, old original German Volkswagen parts; and once again, even though it was not exactly a huge affair, the people there swarmed over and started throwing money at Tara.

I don't know how this can continue to be happening, but it is.

Here's the spread:

Picture by Tara.

Even Tara was surprised that though people are certainly buying stuff, the amount we bring never seems to go down all that much; and I think she may finally be getting it through her head that there's way, way more of this stuff than she thinks there is.

I didn't get to look around much, though really that's fine with me, as I don't particularly care about old Volkswagens (well, okay, that's a bit of a euphemism: I outright hate the things), but I did manage to take a walk around. As I cut through by one Camper, with two hipstery sorts sitting under an awning, one of them noticed my Monkees shirt and commented that he liked them. Then he said, 'I miss Davy.'

'I don't,' I grumbled. I may be the curmudgeonly type, which will incidentally explain this next bit.

'Why?' he said, as if I just said I hated puppies. Well, I suppose I did.

'I'm a Mike fan,' I said, and kept walking.

All in all, though, smallish event or not, we did, as usual, pretty well, certainly enough to make it worthwhile. And, as usual, we got plenty of bites about parts people want that we didn't bring; but I think the important lesson Tara learned is that there are, after all, some things people just don't want. And that means that those things can just get thrown away. Hurrah!

It only went till three-ish, this event; the second the raffle was over people started driving off. So we packed up and started the long journey back.

This time it was me who was feeling poorly after we returned. It was I think a combination of not enough sleep, too much sun, not enough water, too much fast food, and too much noise on the ride back, the kind that really wears on you; I ended up collapsing into bed in the early evening, which is saying something because I never take naps. Well, it would have been a nap, except Maurice the Cat was just so happy he took to chewing on my bare toes, which, while cute in the abstract, is really not, after all, conducive to sleep. But after lying there a bit and sipping as much water as I could, the balance of my humours was restored and I was back to normal.

There are more events coming up, of course, though the really big air-cooled Volkswagen show happens the same weekend as the Citroën thing, so we can't make that one; but now that the season is here, we're going to try to hit as many of these as we can.

What fun.

Junk Mandala

Well here's one way to deal with it all: make art.

I put this one together last night from a picture I took of a bunch of rusty bolts, the same one I used for the repeating background. We have thrown away I'd guess thousands of these already, and I imagine there are still thousands more.