From original Empire State VW Camping Post:
It started with a simple idea. My Dad would "gift" his Beloved Volvo to me. The journey
there was only the beginning to this guys wild ride back.
It started with West River Westies 5 in Townsend, VT. 3 days of pure fun with good people
and good times. My Family came down from Canada, Mom came down from
Burlington,VT, Middle Brother and kids up from Greenfield,MA ( sans eldest brother due to
his Wifes cold) and had a ball on Saturday. Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day.
Everyone agreed to do this again next year and I think my Mom and her partner Lynn may
get a Westy after seeing the great friendship that is shared. They where in awe. "So this is
what you guys do... This is great!"
Sunday came and my Father and I with Phil and Folks kicked the can for awhile till it was
time to go. Tom Loos left with Tikibus to Rochester. Talk about being nervous! Didn't feel
well until I got the message that Tom's travels ended safely in Rochester later that eve.
Whew!!!
My Dad and I headed North to take US route 2 thru the White Mountains.
During the 70's my Father built a house on Star King Mountain looking at the Presidential
Range. I think he wanted to see the old tromping grounds and rekindle some old
memories. It did. Spent some great Summer and Winter adventures up there as a young
boy. Jefferson, NH was the spot. We laughed and sniffled a bit at the old memories. Good
Times. The Bear attack is my favorite one. I still here that 45 report in my ears.
We drove to Bethel, Maine that Sunday and made camp at the Norseman Inn. With tired
eyes we sacked out early. Then on Monday hit old route 2 (with some short cuts) to 95
then to Maine State highway 9, also known as the Airline Drive to Calais. 90 miles of
nothing. He was getting closer to home, I was getting farther away. All this time plotting
how to get over the Border with the Volvo. We cross over into Canada at Calais into St.
Stephen with no problems. Dad used his usual charms on the Customs Agent ( shut up
Dad!!!) and off to Seelys Cove, NB, Canada.
We reach Crows Harbor Rd. in dense fog off the Sea. My Fathers house sits not 60 feet off
the coast. What a enchanting setting. Fog horns soft in the distance and buoy bells
sending their longing chimes out, here was my Fathers domain. The fog didn't lift at all
that eve. It was surreal. His Wife Betty had a fire going in the stove and we all sat down to
a hearty meal and good times.
And in the Fog lurked the Volvo. I went up to say hello. I'd forgotten how sleek of a Mink
this car is. Wow, here I am and I get to drive this bad boy home. I already named her the
Red Baron as Snoopy plays in Peanuts. Little did I know the true condition of the Volvo.
The next morning broke with the Fog gone and a blazing blue sky on the Sea. Now I saw
what splendor of Canada's New Brunswick coast offers. Just stunning. Wildlife everywhere,
the smell of the Sea and the ruggedness of the land. A photograph doesn't do it justice.
And quiet. Human activity/sounds: None. Nature only. Woke with birds chattering and the
Sea crashing on the rocks. A cup of coffee in hand said good byes to Betty who was off to
Halifax, NS to see her Daughter. Then all eyes on the Volvo.
I mentioned the Condition of the Volvo. Well... Sh*t. Poor. In the morning light I dug in.
Vacuum leaks and a major Coolant leak. The Volvo didn't pass the NB's inspection due to
no working rear brakes and other things too. I had my hands full. All of the instruments
didn't work or are semi-functioning ( except the tank gauge, that works! ). Oh F-bombs!
Too many things to fix and not enough time. So I made a list. Vacuum leaks and Coolant
first. My Father just looked at me and shook his head. In respect to my Dad, he
"maintained" it. What that means in his world... ask him.
Went to the parts store with bad hoses in hand and prayed. Made do with what they had.
The main vacuum leak was from the intake manifold to the Brake Booster. Not good. She
ran with the idle going up/down/up/down till the temp leveled out and so did the idle. All
of the other Vacuum hoses where toast. Couldn't replace them so just cut off the bad parts
and reinstalled. Cleaned the grounds some what. I feared if I did to much to awake
Snoopy's Gremlins, I'd be in the pokie. To my Fathers astonishment, 2 hours later, she
purrs like a Kitten. Brakes, Can't do squat since the jacking posts are rotted away, some
holes are present in the floor pan and the passenger seat is not attached. The rest of the
day is spent inspecting. Only drive it once. Since the Inspection sticker is not valid, I get a
rejection sticker that makes the car Legal in NB for 14 days. A bright Hazard Orange
sticker. I'm not going to put that on the Volvo. I'll risk it.
That night we have Lobster and lots of Cocktails. You know I like beer... I annointed
Snoopy. Prayed to the 4 corners of the World to get MY ASS HOME. Went to bed with a
copy of " On the Road" and promptly passed out.
Morning time. Head fuzzy and groggy, pack up my tools and gear. Dad itching about
nervous and such. We've done the paper work at Lobster Time and we recheck it. All is
good. Now, we've plotted 40 ways to get over the Border. From the Honest to the Devious
in nature. I decide, "Well, F-bomb, Gotta be honest so I'll go for it." We go up to his haunt
the infamous Milk Mart, which is to say the Local Irving Gas Station/Restaurant ( went once
before for Breakfast) to get some chow and part company.
Now before I go on, I'd like to mention the Suspension of the Volvo. What Suspension?
Silly notion, who needs it, right? I bounce over to the Milk Mart. I keep my mouth shut.
All I need to do is to get over the Border.
We have a very sullen Breakfast knowing full well of the journey ahead for this guy. Good
Byes are brief and Dad departs. I'll call him when I get to my Brothers house in Greenfield,
MA which is a lifetime away. I get in and drive off, chain smoking cigs and the car
bouncing and shuddering underneath. Dad mentioned somewhere that it gets hot in the
Volvo. F-bomb me! It is the hot Breath of Satan himself billowing up from the foot wells.
Ouch!!! Not fun. I get to the Border with no lines. Here we go.
So here is a 1971 Volvo P1800E with a New Hampshire Title from 1977, a Bill of Sale
amounting to 1 US Dollar, my sorry arsed paperwork at the Calais, Maine Border Patrol
Office #0115. Let's go into the Office, shall we?
Walking the Green Mile. I'm not joking here folks, Officer Grass handles my case. He is
befuddled at the Title and such. Let's get other Customs Agents involved. Count 'em 4.
I'm polite, yes/no, I have no idea. The sticky part is that my Dad never Imported the Car
into Canada. Plus the VIN # is so old, it is not in the system. I get to Import the Car into
the US of A. A slew of paperwork with jargon only a Lawyer understands. They give me
the Cheat Sheet(s). I ask many questions ( ahh, I ask questions! good man). 20 minutes
of filling out forms. But when doing so, I think they went out and took a peak at the
Volvo. Here is the Wait. Never in my life have I been so scared. I sit next to the AC unit to
stem the sweat glands from over reacting. Hands folded waiting. After some time Officer
Grass comes in. He is all business. Looks over the paperwork, copies everything, double
checks to the line. I'm face to face with him. He looks up, smiles and stamps approvals on
all the pages. I shake his hand and I walk out the door. I didn't pay one red cent.
Nothing. I was prepared for the worst and walked out the door owning nothing.
I swallow my heart and let out a fart and off I go, bouncing down the road, scraping the
exhaust system right outside the Customs House. Crunch! Volvo said good bye too.
Here comes 90 miles of sheer terror, Route 9. I have a idea what is in store, but I face the
lip of Oblivion. I bounce, rattle, shudder. Gauges telling all sorts of lies, all I do is grip the
wheel and steer her, listening to the engine roar. The tach tells me I'm doing 3000 rpms,
oops no 4500 rpms, 5000? what? I learn quick just drive by ear. Speedo, what's the
point? I follow pace cars with lots of room inbetween. Remember, I've got limited braking.
Heat pouring out of the foot wells, sweating buckets, I make it to Bangor. Forgot to
mention, I had to make a rear view mirror in Canada, that keeps falling off. The rear
suspension clunks away on every bump, almost sways a bit. Interstate 95 S, here I come.
With route 9 behind me I'm all interstate from here. I can only guess at what speed I was
doing. But I got more smiles and waves/thumbs up than I ever imagined. Here is this
Load grumbling down the Highway. I count the mile markers. Kinda made it a game. It is
hot. Maine border, NH border, MA border slip under the tires. Take 495 to MA State 2.
Lots of Traffic. I'm chugging along, delirious from Satan's Furnace blasting in my face
bouncing and shaking away down the highway. I count the mile markers. 30 Miles to
Greenfield, 20 then 10. I'm close.
Zip by my exit that leads to my Middle Brothers Casa, I pass Yankee Candle Co. Too far,
but I'm so beat, I take the next exit. Pull into a Gas Station and literally fall out of the car.
I'm semi-lost. Grab ice and water and beer. Needs the beer! Cool off for a bit and get my
head on straight. 10 hours so far. Cell phone dead, I think I was supposed to turn it off at
the Customs House, now does nothing. All I got is a slip of paper with a scribbled phone
number and a pay phone. I call and get voicemail. F-bomb, lots of those in 10 hours. Get
on US route 5 and head North to Greenfield. Bingo! I'm not lost! Landmarks appear. High
St. here I come.
Started at 9AM finished at 6PM. The first leg of the Journey ended with hugs and smiles of
my Brother and one heck of a cold beer. Did that taste good! Went to the Local Swimming
hole and scrubbed. Food and beer later, Brother wanted to take her for a spin. Go for it.
15 mins. of training, he took a 45 min. ride. God bess him. While away noticed that I had
blisters on my right foot from the heat of the manifold. I was in pain. 2nd degree burns.
That night polished off many beers much to my Bothers dismay and made a plan to attack
the heat source.
Awoke in the Morning and had some chow. We said our good byes and I gave him a check
for what I was supposed to pay Father for the repairs he made on the Volvo. Happy Boy!
Off to Home Depot to squash the heat.
What I did was bought the fiberglass/metal stuff that you put around a Hot water tank,
plus some heavy duty flashing tape. Stuffed it in good and taped it up. Worked like a
Fiend and had many odd stares. Fixed. Gassed up and on my way. 91 to 90 West bound.
Heat there, but cut it back by 75%. Thank goodness!
9AM start time and the travel easy. Now used to the shake, rattle and roll, hit a groove
and cruised. Outside of Albany comes a line of Classic Cars. I'm farting along and honks
and waves abound. Am I going to a car show? In this POS? Rochester bound folks.
Everyone knows 90 West bound is a tiring road. But played to mile marker game. each
one getting the Volvo and me closer to Meg, Haley and a new Cat? New Cat? What?
Slowly I get home. Tired, spent and dazed I pull in and kill the engine. I'm home. I don't
have a clue on the Milage done or Funds spent, but I'm home. I'm greeted by Meg and a
very Upset pooch (Haley). I've done it. Volvo and I are home in one piece.
One for the The Record Books.
Mark
