Our new pop-top camperCopyright 2009 Lydia Hinshaw
ORMOND BEACH, FL -- Long before I had a computer or a blog, I had a Volkswagen pop-top camper. For 14 years in the 1980s and 90s, I spent my much of my vacations it. Those were wonderful times, waking up in my upper-berth to look out at the ocean in the Keys, or that other ocean near Los Angeles, or the Green Mountains in Vermont or the Rockies in Colorado.
Sadly, I sold my 1976 model rear-engine, four-cylinder pop-top in 1998, mainly because of my inability to do body work. A makeshift sheet metal platform was all that was keeping the battery from falling through a rust-hole and out into the road. Up front, the carpet was often wet because of leaks, and if I pulled up a corner of it, I could see clear through to the pavement below.
Worst of all, Prince Charming did not share my love for the magic bus. He felt it was a breakdown waiting to happen. The bus didn't seem to like him either. On one of the rare occasions when he drove it alone, it petulantly snapped its clutch cable when he stopped for coffee a couple of miles from the house.
He never understood that this was part of the deal with a VW bus.
I once drove back from Tampa with no clutch cable, and another time back from Miami, more than 250 miles, with only third and fourth gears. That day, I'd consulted by phone with the a mechanic at my regular stop here, who had assured me I'd be fine, and that I wouldn't break anything that wasn't already broken, and that if I wasn't at his shop by 5 p.m., he'd send out a search party (no cell phones in those days.)
There were several occasions when I awoke to the smell of gasoline and had to search out a mechanic to replace one of the 700 or so segments of fuel lines that particular engine required.
One morning after returning from a trip, I found a pool of oil under the engine. I poured a bunch more oil (from the stash I always kept handy) in and got it two miles to the shop.
You drove a VW bus in those days, you expected this sort of thing, and you lived with it, and kept an emergency fund to keep the beast rolling. Funny, I don't remember how much any of the repairs cost -- I just remember it was always worth it because of the next trip I was planning.
I always hoped I would be able to own a newer pop-top and now, after 11 years of searching, I do. Volkswagen couldn't sell enough of its newer Eurovan pop-tops to make the money it wanted to make, and so stopped importing them into North America in 2003. Since then, it's rare to spot a newer one on a used-car lot. Pop-top lovers like me are holding on tight. The law of supply and demand has all-but halted depreciation as well. Many of the pop-tops I could find on the Internet, usually in California or Colorado, were offered for sale for the same price they'd sold for brand new.
I wanted my mechanic to check out any used vehicle I bought before I plunked down the money, so distant pop-tops were out-of-the-question.
Ten days ago, taking another shot via the Internet, I typed in the model, clicked on 250 miles radius and hit search, expecting to see the usual "no vehicles meet your criteria" message.
And there she was, on the lot of a VW dealer in Melbourne, just 90 miles away, a 2003, the newest pop-top it's possible to buy, with only 65,000 miles, and priced several thousand dollars lower than the California Eurovans I could find advertised on other sites.
The economic downturn has made this a great time to buy a car. The Melbourne dealer's manager agreed to let us bring the pop-top home overnight so my mechanic, the same fellow who once rode herd on my old VW's problems, could take a look at it. He gave it good marks. And the next afternoon, the Prince and I emptied a couple of our bank accounts, drove back to Melbourne and closed the deal.
We've been disappointed not to have jobs in some exotic location this summer, but things have a way of working out. If we had already left Florida for the summer, we would have missed this opportunity.
And the day after we brought it home, the owner of the daycare center where I work part-time told me she could give me more hours and therefore more money if I stayed and worked for her this summer.
Which is what I plan to do, as soon as we've escaped for a couple of weeks to enjoy once again the best camping I've ever done.
Sadly, I sold my 1976 model rear-engine, four-cylinder pop-top in 1998, mainly because of my inability to do body work. A makeshift sheet metal platform was all that was keeping the battery from falling through a rust-hole and out into the road. Up front, the carpet was often wet because of leaks, and if I pulled up a corner of it, I could see clear through to the pavement below.
Worst of all, Prince Charming did not share my love for the magic bus. He felt it was a breakdown waiting to happen. The bus didn't seem to like him either. On one of the rare occasions when he drove it alone, it petulantly snapped its clutch cable when he stopped for coffee a couple of miles from the house.
He never understood that this was part of the deal with a VW bus.
I once drove back from Tampa with no clutch cable, and another time back from Miami, more than 250 miles, with only third and fourth gears. That day, I'd consulted by phone with the a mechanic at my regular stop here, who had assured me I'd be fine, and that I wouldn't break anything that wasn't already broken, and that if I wasn't at his shop by 5 p.m., he'd send out a search party (no cell phones in those days.)
There were several occasions when I awoke to the smell of gasoline and had to search out a mechanic to replace one of the 700 or so segments of fuel lines that particular engine required.
One morning after returning from a trip, I found a pool of oil under the engine. I poured a bunch more oil (from the stash I always kept handy) in and got it two miles to the shop.
You drove a VW bus in those days, you expected this sort of thing, and you lived with it, and kept an emergency fund to keep the beast rolling. Funny, I don't remember how much any of the repairs cost -- I just remember it was always worth it because of the next trip I was planning.
I always hoped I would be able to own a newer pop-top and now, after 11 years of searching, I do. Volkswagen couldn't sell enough of its newer Eurovan pop-tops to make the money it wanted to make, and so stopped importing them into North America in 2003. Since then, it's rare to spot a newer one on a used-car lot. Pop-top lovers like me are holding on tight. The law of supply and demand has all-but halted depreciation as well. Many of the pop-tops I could find on the Internet, usually in California or Colorado, were offered for sale for the same price they'd sold for brand new.
I wanted my mechanic to check out any used vehicle I bought before I plunked down the money, so distant pop-tops were out-of-the-question.
Ten days ago, taking another shot via the Internet, I typed in the model, clicked on 250 miles radius and hit search, expecting to see the usual "no vehicles meet your criteria" message.
And there she was, on the lot of a VW dealer in Melbourne, just 90 miles away, a 2003, the newest pop-top it's possible to buy, with only 65,000 miles, and priced several thousand dollars lower than the California Eurovans I could find advertised on other sites.
The economic downturn has made this a great time to buy a car. The Melbourne dealer's manager agreed to let us bring the pop-top home overnight so my mechanic, the same fellow who once rode herd on my old VW's problems, could take a look at it. He gave it good marks. And the next afternoon, the Prince and I emptied a couple of our bank accounts, drove back to Melbourne and closed the deal.
We've been disappointed not to have jobs in some exotic location this summer, but things have a way of working out. If we had already left Florida for the summer, we would have missed this opportunity.
And the day after we brought it home, the owner of the daycare center where I work part-time told me she could give me more hours and therefore more money if I stayed and worked for her this summer.
Which is what I plan to do, as soon as we've escaped for a couple of weeks to enjoy once again the best camping I've ever done.
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