SMALL CAN BE BEAUTIFUL
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Have you ever wondered why certain vehicles develop an almost iconic status over the years? Perhaps none more so than the early air-cooled VW camper van. Despite it having been somewhat underpowered it arguably became one of the most successful vehicles of its type. Much favoured by hippies, surfers and adventurous world travellers, it seems to represent the freedom of such life-styles. And for past owners, like my wife and I, the very sight of one always evoked fond memories of a time when camping was a lot simpler than the sophisticated high tech business it has become today.
Ours was a 1965 split screen Devon conversion and the very first in a long line of campers and motorhomes we have owned; culminating some 25 years later in an American 23 foot class ‘A’ Winnebago which we purchased in Texas to fulfil a long held dream of spending our retirement touring North America. By that time VW camper vans were just a distant if pleasurable memory and the thought that we might ever own another never entered our minds. That is until we met Aggie.
We were about mid-way through our North American sojourn when driving through a small desert town in southern California my wife caught sight of that familiar shape parked on the forecourt of a somewhat dodgy looking used car dealership. And for reasons she is unable to explain, either then or now, urged me to turn around and take a closer look.
Aggie, as we later christened her, turned out to be a sad looking 1971 model with a fixed high top. With scratched and faded paintwork, nearly bald tyres and upholstery and curtains slowly rotting under the desert sun she was in a sorry state. However, there was very little rust; no doubt the result of having spent most of her life in the dry desert air; and on climbing into her dusty interior we were impressed with the high standard of the conversion which had been carried out by a long since defunct American company.
I cannot explain why we bought her. To call it an impulse buy would be a gross understatement. Perhaps Aggie had the same effect on us as would a neglected and unwanted puppy. I remember that as we poked around inside we discussed how satisfying it would be to restore her; quite forgetting the impracticalities of embarking on such a project while touring a foreign country and being temporarily of no fixed abode. But after the salesman had started the engine; allowed us a short test drive and reduced the already modest price by a couple of hundred dollars, I found myself handing over the cash. For better or worse, Aggie (short for aggravation by the way) was ours.
At first she certainly lived up to her name. However, in spite of the limitations of our itinerant life style we slowly progressed in making her a little more presentable and above all, safe. Had Aggie been in Britain she would have failed the MOT at the first hurdle. But, strange as it may seem, California has no equivalent roadworthiness test. Just a strict exhaust emission analysis from which, and what is perhaps even stranger, vehicles of Aggie’s vintage are exempt. Nevertheless, valuing life and limb, we fitted new tyres, relined the brakes, and overhauled the running gear and engine. Inside I re-varnished the fitments while my wife made new curtains and seat covers. Finally, with a couple of coats of bright yellow acrylic household paint applied with roller and brush, Aggie’s restoration was practically complete. All that remained was to have her fitted with an ‘A’ frame tow bar to hitch her to the Winnebago.
The advantages of having secondary transport soon became apparent. Firstly it saved us having to disconnect the motorhome from campground utility hook-ups each time we wished to go out. And secondly it enabled one or other of us to go off independently. She even doubled as a spare bedroom when family visited us from the UK.
And so Aggie joined us on our adventures until a few years later we decided to sell our Winnebago and replace it with a static home in a southern Californian senior’s mobile home community where we were to spend the next five winters.
Then it was that Aggie really proved her worth. Not only as our sole means of transport but also allowing us to continue making camping trips into the surrounding desert. Initially we were concerned that having become accustomed to the relative luxury of our Winnebago we would find it difficult living in such a confined space again. But we adapted quite easily and quickly discovered that any loss of comfort was more than made up for by the many advantages the smaller vehicle provided.
Firstly we were able to explore many wonderful and remote locations where we would not even have attempted to take the Winnebago. Secondly, we found that instead of being cocooned inside a motorhome we were spending much more time outside in the fresh air. Most of our meals were enjoyed al-fresco and evenings spent relaxing around a camp fire under glorious star filled desert skies. And the very fact that we were outside so much encouraged our fellow campers to say hello and engage us in conversation. And to this end Aggie was, without any doubt, the main attraction.
We were soon to recognize the signs. Catching sight of her people would stop, smile and with a somewhat wistful expression politely enquire as to Aggie’s age. This was invariably followed by a declaration that they had once owned a V.W. camper of such and such year and then with faces aglow with the memories, tells us that it had given them some of the happiest camping experiences they had ever enjoyed. And here’s the interesting thing; more often than not such people would have just stepped from a huge luxurious motorhome or fifth wheel and yet, here they were, happy to confess that a tiny V.W. had given them such joy. I was often tempted to ask them, on a happiness scale of one to ten, how their old V.W. would have scored against their present RV.
Now I admit that it is most unlikely that such folk would wish to replace their present pride and joy with a humble VW; but nevertheless these encounters happened so frequently that I began to question whether owning ever larger and more luxurious RVs is necessarily a guarantee of a happier camping experience. In fact I seriously began to wonder if perhaps the very opposite might be true and that such vehicles may prove to be the proverbial white elephant and actually hinder us from enjoying the simple pleasures that camping provides and that most of us seek. In our own case Aggie seemed to indicate that perhaps this might be so.
When we first arrived in America in 1994 to begin our search for a suitable motorhome we soon learnt that most Americans subscribe to the belief that if big is best then bigger is even better. And finally deciding on a 23 foot motorhome, far larger than anything we had owned in the U.K., we were strongly advised that it would prove far too small for full time living.
It didn’t of course, and was ideal. But nevertheless it did seem to shrink in comparison to the newer vehicles coming onto the market. For over the next ten years we witnessed American RVs, grow to truly gigantic proportions culminating in forty feet so called ‘diesel-pusher’ motorhomes, with triple slide-outs and computer controlled levelling jacks towing full size 4 x 4s. Fifth-wheel trailers so large they had to be hitched to commercial size trucks. And no concession was made in respect of comfort and luxury. Washer/dryers, dishwashers, ice makers, king size beds, satellite wide screen plasma TVs, reclining three piece leather suites became the norm.
But here’s the thing. Even in a land where the infrastructure is designed almost exclusively with motor vehicles in mind, RVs of this size can still prove to be a liability. For America is not all eight lane freeways and vast parking lots. There are thousands of miles of narrow country lanes and winding mountain roads, many un-surfaced, which if not off limits to such vehicles would, at the very least, prove to be a white knuckle experience to negotiate.
For driving and manoeuvring these enormous rigs can often prove to be stressful in the extreme, particularly for elderly retirees, who are the majority of owners. We often witnessed the strained expression on the faces of couples as they endeavoured to shoehorn their vehicle into a camping spot. In addition, the fact that such R.Vs are stuffed full of technological gadgetry means that there is so much more to go wrong and in that event will require the expensive services of a qualified technician to fix.
So Aggie not only reintroduced us to the joys of simple camping but caused us to reassess exactly what it is we are looking for in the camping experience. Needless to say we become quite attached to her, so much so that we were sorely tempted to ship her home to England with us when the time came to leave. However, to spare her the ravages of Britain’s salt treated winter roads, we reluctantly decided the desert was her home. Nevertheless, her legacy was to greatly influence us in the choice of a motorhome back here in the UK. Not a VW, but small and compact nevertheless. For if Aggie taught us anything it was that ‘big’ is not necessarily best and that ‘more’ is often not necessary at all.
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Comments
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Absolutely loved the story and we have friends who are tempted to buy a new VW camper here so I am going to send them this story to read. Regards, Roy
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I loved the story too! My brother in law always stuck to small camper vans, when the last one went the family waved it off with heavy hearts and lots of happy memories. Small is beautiful, thanks for a well written travelling tale!
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Excellent story, reminded me of my T25 days, thank you.
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