Blue Moon's Last Ride

Before becoming a home on the land (in the tradition of the buses of The Farm settlers), Blue Moon was my rolling home. Here are some tales & pictures of this noble chariot of freedom.

Blue's story began in late 1972. Our journey began in 1998. The truck was purchased in rough shape (but with only 83,000 miles on a strong drivetrain) or $600 from a guy who was going to use it as storage. I knew this was the good ship I was to sail off into the sunset in. It was destiny. With some expert welding and wrenching (mostly by Lenny at Revere Auto in Melrose, MA) it was basically rebuilt system by system around the drivetrain. From experience I knew I could spend a few grand on a high mileage late model with a good paint job, or spend it on NEW PARTS, going through system by system on an older and rougher but more suitable vehicle, and wind up with a good solid road machine in excellent mechanical condition. After owning some of those "pretty" vans, THIS was a NO-BRAINER. With some driving lights and an auxiliary tranny cooler added, the ship was ready to, in the words of Bugs Bunny, go "Bon voy-ah-gee!"

The interior was finished in the Spring of 2000, and includes:
- Purple shag on the ceiling and walls. All surfaces were insulated with green foam board and plywooded over, including the floor, then covered with carpet.
- A couch/bed from a conversion van, mounted behind the front seats.
- Sink setup with pump, mounted fresh water tank and removable gray water tank.
- Counters and storage: shelving with retaining bars, storage for 5 milk crates (how I store most stuff; one for canned food, one for notebooks, etc. The microwave is mounted under the counter where the 6th crate used to go), overhead cargo netting for blankets, etc., and a hinged wooden ammo crate on each side as overhead cabinets.
- "House" (marine deep cycle) battery/isolator setup to charge off the alternator and seperately (auxiliary fuse block) power the lights, fans, auxiliary outlets and water pump for the sink. Can be charged by running the engine or with a trickle charger (solar or 110-volt). The battery gives me two days of lights & fans; a bigger battery could give me more.
- Fan, 2 speed reversible, mounted in a crank open vent in place of the window in the driver's side rear door.
- SeaLand Sani-pottie (insert noise here!)
- Cab was equipped with a tachometer, fire extinguisher, CB radio / PA system, 2 captains chairs (taken out of a junked custom van), stereo cassette (music is like oxygen), cab dome light with on/off switch, and a '70s "foot" hi-beam pedal switch.

With a little help, between chasing myself in circles looking for the tool I just had in my hands and spastic fits of air guitar mania, I'd seemed to have built a home on wheels... BLUE MOON and I hit the road with much enthusiasm... and a broken heart. She knew it was a when, not an if, but decided to stay. Can't blame her, this certainly isn't a lifestyle for everybody and I only knew it was my path. I had no idea, past a little piece of land in the South, where the road would take me or how it would change me inside. Here's what the inside looked like in 2000.

Later I was to get an E-mail from someone in MA that said "My uncle used to have a van just like that a long time ago for his store, the Woburn Discount Outlet." (Blue Moon sports a white "WDO" on the doors. So while it now stands for "Wierd Driving Object", we are closer to finding out more history on this time capsule). I told him to tell his uncle the truck is loved like an outlaw loves his trusty horse, that it is not only someone's house, but his HOME. Here in 2007 its roadgoing years are over; it's becoming a tiny little recording studio. In 2000 and 2001 it made both Rolling Homes gatherings in Missouri. Here's the trip to the last one, where a tired & worn out little blue truck carried a little man to a small gathering of loose nuts & bolts. :) This is actual vintage stuff from the original vandweller website.

Man... John Lee Hooker AND Archie Bunker?! I leave for 2 weeks and the world goes to Houston in a handbasket. Good Lordy! Anyways...
June 2001 Road Trip Report! Yippee!

The good ship Blue Moon.

FRIED PIES! FRIED PIES! FRIED PIES!!!! OK, now that that little outburst is history, we can proceed with this account of Van Dweller and Blue Moon on the road again.

The destination was the journey itself; but the turnaround point was the second annual Rolling Homes Across America gathering in Montgomery City, Missouri, a weekend with other "Wheel-minded" folks from around the country at the Kan-Do Campground. Blue, as tired as the good ship was, was ready for its final voyage. "Fill me with visions of highway miles and heartland; then I'll close my eyes." I will wish for much the same when my time draws near... for now, I steer the wheel and work the pedals.

The trip started out with an evening of Texas music at the Cheatham Street Warehouse in San Marcos, TX. If I was living another life, I'd never leave this place; the only thing better than the music are the people there. Kent Finlay is not a "Bar owner"; he is a national treasure and an amazing songwriter. The parking lot had good vibes, so we slept there. (Go visit www.cheathamstreet.com)

With the house all in order (including a plastic turtle co-pilot, honorable mascot Bartholomew, seen here attempting the "cool" look amphibians can rarely pull off with cheap human sunglasses), we hit the road to Eliza Gilkyson, some Grateful Dead, and as 35 North and Texas segued into signs mentioning Oklahoma, Dave Brubeck (thanks, Jay)...

Finding a suitable lot at sundown in very North Texas, I decided to try to capture my noble chariot of freedom in portrait. It's reliable and smooth still, but was guzzling oil like Uncle Luigi at an Italian buffet. About a quart every 250 miles. And the hills feel bigger every time... and the rot... and the leaks... ah, my dear wheeled home shall be retired having never been towed and having never failed to finish the trip. It did not owe me this, having taken me on the 3000 mile glorious journey it was built for and subsequently housing me for a year on the land... we ran this one on Karma, me & ol' Blue. And Bartholomew. And A fly that snuck aboard in San Marcos, believing a journey to be the best use of his short life. Welcome aboard, brother!

And here is our gnomish hero himself clearing out the sink. "Softens your hands... while you do the dishes!" Like I give a crap.

A storm must have gone tear-ass through North Texas / Oklahoma; all the highway exit signs were down and quite a few billboards were blown over. Glad we missed that! Ardmore, OK is a cool place. I spent some time re-exploring (not much had changed since the last time I came through) and found a good parking lot corner to spend the night in. In the morning, I cleaned up, checked Blue's levels, put in a quart of oil, and took the last half of my jug of drinking water and poured it into the radiator as a gesture of kinship; many see their vehicles as transportation devices and nothing more... not me. "Drink up, my friend." Observations: the road plays tricks on the eyes... BUDGET FUEL at first glance became FUEL MIDGET. Saw a UPS truck with 3 trailers... what happens if you have to back up? And then there was the prison work crew digging by the side of the highway; at each corner of the work area was a sunglassed guard on an ATV with a shotgun. They don't mess around in Oklahoma. But the scenery, the way the highway goes through the mountains... I can imagine long before they were divided by roads, what this place looked like to the Native Americans... I can imagine one letting the red clay run through his hands. "I have been created in the image of this land." Hmmm... there's Rupert's Pickup Parts in Moore, OK.

From my experience, the wind blows all the time here. NEW NOMADIC WORD: "Winddance". That is when ordinary, seemingly inanimate objects, become posessed by the vibes of the strange gusts through the open windows and begin dancing and flying in hectic, spastic circles like something out of "The Exorcist" until they fly out the window. A Texas bandana from the back living quarters made a flying bid for freedom, and successfully winddanced right out the driver's window, spreading itself out in the air as if expecting to fly. Then there was the foam padding strip on the ceiling joint between the cab and box of Blue, which decided it would be a snake and drop on me suddenly whilst beating me about the head and face. I fought valiantly and it was subdued until I could reattach it with velcro.

 

A quote from my book NOMADIC NOTATIONS: "And this simply isn't the time to mention anything having to do with pork products." 'Nuff said; and down the road we go!

The Norwegians have a way with cultured milk enzymes, and Jarlsberg wrapped in hard salami became a staple for a couple of days. Before bed as a snack with a beer having something to do with Milwaukee, this is a meal for a king. Foodus Roadibus. Jarlsburp. Anyway, the stowaway fly came buzzing and I took a cheesecrumb and placed it over on the counter... and I'll be if that little guy didn't go over and start playing with it. He left me alone to munch in peace.

Travel brings hunger;
Leave enough crumbs, little fly?
All are fed and free

This little guy stayed in the truck until Missouri. We'll talk more about his wild road antics a bit later...

I never sausage a thing! This was next to a similar building that said OZARK CHEESE. They looked abandoned... guess they weren't exactly on a roll. Actually, they named this after me, and I... oh alright, I'll just shut up now and show you the next picture. Jeeeez.

Movin' on down the highway, cruising speed 56 mph (My GoD! ThE rIpPLes In mY FaCe!!), altitude... higher than any one sober man has a right to be. Goal for the day is the Petro in Joplin, Missouri, which has parking for 400 trucks and a great shop to restock supplies. A coyote makes a daring run across the road, makes it, and goes running into a cow pasture. He's got some high hopes! I was thinking to myself that I hoped he'd stashed the latest in Acme devices nearby, when the next truck to pass me (everything passes you at 56 mph) was WILEY TRANSPORT. Life's irony slays me at times.

There was a rest stop all treed and shaded, but after a year in the woods, the novelty of a secluded rest area has worn off and I decided to press on to the truck stop... I was not disappointed! Besides (see photo above), there were a pack of staties in there going through a guy's van when I emerged from lunch, and I decided I wasn't going to be next in line for the old "I'll find somethin' even if I gotta put it in there m'self" routine. So We gave THIS place the ol' A.M.F.!

Found a great spot at the Petro, backed in towards this dirt lot facing the highway, across from Black Market Fireworks and Liquors. I lay back on the couch and say my prayers of thanks... while much of the world is in chaos, while so many are chained to their lifestyle, I've been blessed with few needs, a roof, wheels, freedom, and a road. As I snapped this picture I was thinking to myself "Self, you're the luckiest dude on the planet." I sleep best on wheels with no clocks and the faint purr of idling diesels.

I-44, the Will Rodgers Turnpike, somewhere in Oklahoma...

Missouri loves company!

After a great night's sleep, I walked around the truckstop and saw this rig about to pull out for another day on the road.

One of my favorite parts of this drive was where in Cuba, MO, we left 44 and took a winding 2-lane through to New Florence. We stayed in a gravel lot by a Phillips 66 for a couple of days... I like to get close to where I'm going, then completely relax for a while. I read, napped, and wrote... and it was here the stowaway fly picked up a girl fly and... we'll get to that shortly. What line does a fly use anyway, "Excuse me, is this stool taken?" Sorry.

19 is a beautiful drive through farmlands and fields; a drive through rural America. You know you're in rural America when the street signs read "Hog Trough Rd.", "Old Iron Rd." and "Deer Rd.", and all the burnout marks are from dually pickups. Owensville was a cool little town, stopped and made myself some jack mackerel and mayo sandwiches in an abandoned grocery lot. A Sheriff rolled slowly by and gave me the eye, and I was done with lunch, so once again I figured this would be the perfect time to opt out of explaining who I was and what I was doing in a truck with purple shag and beads, American flag curtains, jazz on the radio and a Texas temporary tag in the back window... in the middle of Owensville, Missouri at suppertime... and down the road we go! Besides, there was more of the ruralia I wanted to soak in before dark.

Sunburned beer belly
Bouncing on old Ford tractor;
Springtime in Rosebud

With military precision and sense of duty in my motions, I sternly switched on the PA, grabbed the handset, and mood at an entire field of grazing cattle. I had forgotten, however, how loud it gets and in my haste had been overly judicious with the volume control. "MOOOOOOO!!!" Every single cow simultaneously looked my way. I don't know why, with the PA, I was still hanging out the window... but I was. And they ALL looked at me, one so wide-eyed I almost laughed myself into a ditch. What they heard next was smaller moos mixed with maniacal cackling. "Moo, AHAHAHA moo? Moo! Hehehehe!! Moo..." They though it was the voice of God for a second there... perhaps that Bovinus Divinus had gotten into the funny plants again. Truly, the look on that one cow's face was one of the trip highlights. A psychedelic housetruck, the middle of nowhere, Italian saxophone music on the stereo, mooing at cows... it gets no better than this! In Herman, MO, we crossed over this cool bridge over the Missouri river.

A few miles later, at the intersection with I-70 in New Florence, I decided to bed down for a couple of days by the highway at a Phillips 66. The fan belt was slipping again, and I was too roadworn to deal with it right then. Besides, we were within an hour of Montgomery City and 2 days early. This leg of the drive ended in a beautiful sunset with a big orange sun going down behind the hills and old farmhouses, orange reflecting over the fields from the sky...

The smell of lust fills the air... love is made in the vessel of peace and good spirit... not enough to rock the van, but they kept at it for at least an hour. I know because that's how long it took me to get a good shot with the digital camera (Thanks, John; I'm sure this was what you had in mind when you loaned it to me). Is this porn? I mean, I KNOW it's in bad taste... but porn? Naah. Dirty bug pictures. In public! What are they, (drumroll please)... barflies? Does he (brace yourselves) like his women a little on the trashy side? She must've been wearing dumpster juice...

At times it appeared she was sucking the will to live right out of the little guy... but I had never seen anything like it. Oh, well, wait a minute... yeah I have... but loathe be it for me to draw any parallels; I don't think flies devour their mates the way manti and humans do... Ah, what do I know. They flew off together, into the wilds of Missouri, and I wish them well. "Fly United".

Lights of passing trucks
Dance along the wall at night;
Home by the highway

More recollections to come as I rebuild this site in 2007.