TEXAS TO CALIFORNIA AND BACK
PREFACE
A 1972 Vega, a bunch of asphalt, and lifelong friends come together for one weird trip. The following started out to be nothing more than a vacation but wound more a magical mystery tour that had destiny written all over a little Chevy Vega.
Imagine if you will the restless Todd and Buzz on Route 66 in the sixties but instead of the iconic and classic Corvettes install a Chevy Vega that never even came close to driving a mile on route 66. Please substitute instead two life long buddies humping it down the interstate to California in a Vega trying their best to re-capture their youth.
1
NEVER LOOK BACK
Around 1992 or so I decided to drive my 72 Vega to San Francisco and back from Dallas for a fun vacation trip. Not a bad idea but certainly far from a great idea. The Vega had a solid Buick 231 backed up by a turbo 350 so to take a trip out west in the Vega seemed almost like an adventure. The air conditioning was lame but considering it was the middle of September cranking down the highway to El Paso seemed tolerable. Leaving Dallas, El Paso is about a nine hour drive in the Vega and with no overdrive the hum of the motor is enough to make it seem like a two day drive. Helping us along was only one cassette tape, Bachman Turner Overdrive (BTO) Greatest Hits. Oddly enough it didn’t seem like we needed anything else to listen to.
Arriving in El Paso I already was having misgivings and wanted to beat a path back home but I was committed. Checking the fluids all that was needed was a bit of water. The three core radiator was performing beyond expectations considering I didn't have a fan shroud. New Mexico looked inviting to the little Vega but climbing the first tier of mountains the transmission seemed to be slipping until I had no gear at all. Luckily I was on a down hill run so I just let her rip and passed up everyone. Rolling into a small gas station was a god send. Up on the lift I discovered that I had left the Trans pan bolts loose from the pre trip service and all the fluid had leaked out. Easy fix you would think but toothless rednecks swore up and down I needed a new transmission. These inbred banjo playing goofs would hardly sell me a few quarts of transmission fluid and tighten the bolts. Finally after a lot of rambling and the exchange of a twenty I pulled off and looked in my rearview mirror. I wondered how many poor tourists they had rear ended.
2
BIG HOLE IN THE GROUND
Albuquerque and New Mexico were a blur and before I knew it Arizona and the Grand Canyon were dead ahead. Flagstaff is the entrance to the Grand Canyon and a few hours detour but well worth the trip. Having stayed the night in Flagstaff we awoke early to get to the Grand Canyon for the sunrise. Problem being everyone else had this idea and unfortunately this is the busiest part of the day. Tourists lined up with every imaginable camera on earth.
Still, the silence and reverence for this large hole in the ground borders on the religious. Walking up to the edge of the south rim for the first time takes your breath away. You stand there in stunned silence for what seems like hours but in fact it’s only a few minutes and then you release a, “Wow” or a, “Unbelievable”. The rationale is looking at the Grand Canyon you come to realize just how old the earth is and the perception that driving a Vega to California don’t amount to a hill of beans in the over concept of time.
My buddy and I are far from achoholics but standing there looking across the great divide we popped a couple of beers and hoisted them toward the heavens and chugged them down in one glorious gulp. We both burped on cue and as we toasted this glorious morning site the tourist stared in shock at this hard core alcoholic morning. It seemed to have some real significance having just been overwhelmed by the footprint of God. Sliding back into the Vega I knew that moment was priceless. Some pick up a rock or take pictures for a souvenir but my buddy and I knew how to seal the deal. We simply fired up BTO, had a beer, and enjoyed the moment.
Saying good bye to Arizona takes you on a wild trek down into the bowels of Hoover Dam which by it’s own right is a man made wonder which rivals the Grand Canyon only in that it’s just so damn unique and astonishing that man would go to this much trouble but when you live in the desert I guess what choice do you have. They offer this little tour thing and as you go down into the inside of the Dam you would swear it’s something Art Deco straight out of the thirties. The other noticeable icons are the great generators and the fact that everything is spic and span. Arriving at the bottom of the Dam you look back up and it looks even more impressive than looking down. Starting the climb out of the dam you become aware of the fact that it’s like 110 and the little Vega’s AC simply can’t cut the mustard. We roll the windows down just to be blasted with the hot desert wind, the engine temp is past the middle but we have Las Vegas dead in out crosshairs.
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I wrote this short story some twenty years ago and ran across it while cleaning out some old paperwork. I almost threw it out with the trash. I transcribed it here for the Net and the H-body club since it does center around a Vega. The short story runs some ten chapters so Instead of wearing everyone out I will post a chapter or so a day. Stay tuned because its one wild trip.