dokodemo

The drive from Chicago to Ann Arbor started off bad; pouring rain and bumper to bumper traffic all through the city. It took close to an hour and a half to get out of 2nd gear. My clutch foot was almost done for the day, and I had hardly started the drive. A bad mood was starting to set in, as I mentally composed a hate letter to cities in general.

Just as I started to get moving on the highway, the driver's side windshield wiper flipped over, aiming straight out to the left, not on the windshield but hanging off to the side. This was alarming since it was pouring rain and trucks were spraying me with road juice constantly. Luckily I was right by an exit, and was able to pull off quickly. Furthering my luck was a service station right there. I got out and looked at the wiper, it was rotating freely on its mount instead of offering resistance. I couldn't see the seam for the access cap, so I looked at the Bentley manual, which showed it was there, but had little other information.

I asked the mechanic if he could take a look at it, he said he could after a 30 minute wait. I figured I would keep looking at it, but first decided to take a wild attempt to check for net access so I could send a question to the Vangon list. Sure enough, there was a decent open signal, and I was able to get my plea for help out there.

While awaiting replies, I went out again, and was finally able to wiggle the cap off (the rain was making it very hard to see), and a quick tightening of the bolt solved the problem. I gave the mechanic all my $1 bills (4 of them) for at least walking out in the rain to check up on me.

Shortly after crossing into Michigan, I noticed a red pickup truck was driving right next to me, and the passenger was waving to get my attention. I was unhappy about driving in the rain and was not wanting to take my eyes off the road, so I quickly waved at him and resumed driving straight ahead.

The truck swerved at me aggresively, and I immediately slowed down, confused. They pulled forward and the passenger leaned far out the window, back at me, and started making some rude gestures with his middle finger. Puzzled, I smiled and gave him a peace sign. I suppose this made him angry as he seemed to throw some object at me.

Eventually, they sped away. I started to think about this, wondering what I had done to make them angry. Was it my non-Murrican car in this auto-centric part of the nation? Was it the fact that I was driving a camper, indicating a rejection of the working world and a love of leisure? It couldnt have been me specifically, since I intentionally have short, bland hair and clothing. Whatever ths issue was, the men seemed to be unhappy about it, and my greeting their "attack" with a smile seemed to make it worse.

This was the first less-than-pleasant interaction I have had with anyone on this trip, and it was a little surprising, one of those "things that make you go hmmmmm" moments.

Eventually I made it to Dexter, MI, where I met with my uncle and his brothers. Had a pleasant dinner and faked interest in baseball as we watched a game afterwards.

Since the house was full of visitors, I volunteered to sleep in the van which was parked on the street of a very new, very quiet residential neighborhood. Some people find it hard to believe, but sleeping in the van is in many ways more comfortable than a typical guest bedroom. I have a down sleeping bag and fleece blanket which I dearly love, I have excellent pillows, I have long underwear and warm hats within easy reach. I have my books, my water bottle, my toothbrush, etc etc etc all right here, and I am really quite happy in the van.

I especially like it when it is raining, something about the patter on the fiberglass roof is really conducive to good deep sleep. So I spent the night comfortably, and in the morning, I was amazed to realize the left side of my van was covered with egg splatters and telltale shell fragments piled beneath.

This must have happened while we were out to dinner, because I would have heard it inside. I didn't notice before going to sleep, I guess (it was on the opposite side of the door).

Again, I found it puzzling. What about a vanagon camper causes such a violent reaction? I don't have any political stickers on my van, I don't have any stickers at all. Is it that I have out-of-state plates? Do the people of Dexter hate people from Washington?

Was it random? No other cars in the neighborhood were affected. My uncle's car, and those of his brothers were not hit. I seem to have been singled out.

Is it that the vanagon has a "hippie" reputation? Thats my main theory, but in reality if I had to stereotype the vanagon owners I have seen, they would be: male, late 40-70 years old, likely an engineer, programmer, designer, or of some other slightly nerdish vocation.

It really is strange that Michigan seems to be hostile for vanagon drivers. I suppose I am using a tiny sample, and over time its quite possible that this sort of thing would never be repeated, but it does stand out immediately to me that the first ominous interaction happened near Kalamazoo, and then this more tangible assault happens in Dexter. I have to say I am not all that sad to be leaving the state, although there is also some apprehension about what is to come.

Is Tennesee any better? How about Kentucky, South Carolina? Will I be egged in Alabama and Louisiana? Hassled in Texas?

Well, its not that big of deal. I'll just get another bottle of Simple Green and make sure I have more towels ready. I'll keep smiling and waving when people interact with me.