SMALL CAN BE BEAUTIFUL

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.