In case we had any illusions that starting a community would be smooth sailing, our trip across the country and our land search gave us a good reality check.
Our adventures began with the purchase of a cargo trailer to hold all our belongings (nine people's worth), figuring it would be something useful to us in the future as well. So, we set off out of Berkeley with the van loaded down and the trailer pulling about 6,000 pounds. We were lucky to have Tony's Dad's car, a sporty little Mercedes he needed driven across country (later to be thought of as "the support vehicle").
So, with the trailer swaying in time, we kept it at about 50 mph and made it through American Canyon and across the Central Valley. That's where the real adventure began. About a third of the way up 7,000 foot Donner pass, the van started overheating. The trailer was just too heavy for the an old tired van. With much concern and debate, we limped a little further, soliciting strangers with big trucks to pull our trailer over the top. There were no takers. It was getting late, so we backtracked down to Davis to offload about 2000 pounds, including a motorcycle and some solar panels.
Now pulling a lighter, reloaded trailer, we started up the pass again. Despite frequent stops to let our coolant boil all over the place (a non-toxic brand, of course) we made it to the top, lumbering ahead at 10 mph. As we stopped to sleep at a remote junk yard/gas station, our travel weary cat escaped from the van. Star was temporarily crushed as it appeared that he had found a new home in the desert, but he sauntered back just as she was giving up on him. The sun rose as we crossed the Nevada line, relieved to have made it to the next state, but feeling the first of a time crunch.
We made good progress across Nevada on the flats even in the heat of the day and thought that maybe our problems were over. But just outside the small town of Winnemucca, climbing the much lower Golcanda pass, the van overheated again. Soon we found ourselves accepting defeat, waiting on the side of the road for a tow. Arriving in the late hours of that night, via tow truck, we stayed with friends in Winnemucca fearing we'd blown the head gasket and needed an expensive repair. Luckily Tony 's friends from Dead tour had moved there in 1974 when their car had broken down and had yet to leave (we feared we might never escape the Winnemucca vortex ourselves). So, while Star took the Mercedes and what was left of her cat (all his body functions had ceased at this point, due to stress) to Denver, the rest of us hung out at Dave and Mona's working on the van and planning our escape from the vortex. With some timely advice from an Alaskan pool cue maker, we decided to replace the thermostat on the van since the symptoms showed it might be stuck.
Well, the thermostat seemed to improve the van's stamina, but our faith in the old beast was faltering and we decided not to risk further roadside peril by simply renting a 24 foot truck. This way we felt a little more secure, albeit a little poorer. Of course, being environmentalists, we saw no reason to drive two vehicles from Winnemucca when the van would fit so neatly into our rented truck. So, in a burst of excitement and foolishness, we backed the truck up to a small slope, tossed down a couple old 4 x 12's and drove the van into the truck. It went in fairly easily, although we had to remove the doors to make it fit. We hooked up with Star again in Wyoming (the cat safely deposited at her parents' place) and headed off towards Nebraska. We spent the night in North Platte and had a nice time visiting with Star's aunt, uncle and cousin and seeing their new house and pictures of their new limousine.
Next, we headed off for Bloomington, Illinois to drop off the rental truck and leave some housewares for Aaron and Halle', who would be flying in soon. They had made the wise choice to fly out and get a cozy apartment for the winter because Halle' was (and still is) pregnant, due at Thanksgiving. The journey from Nevada to Sandhill (Missouri) was relatively uneventful (except for getting our pictures taken with BART cars being hauled on semis to the east coast for repairs- what can we say? We love BART). Unloading the van in Missouri was another Kodak moment. It was much easier than loading it since we were calm and had Sandhill folks' help. After a brief check-in with Sandhill friends, we drove all three vehicles to Bloomington, turned in the truck (no questions asked), and decided to take just the van to Carbondale, leaving the Mercedes with Aaron and Halle'. A fateful decision.
Of course you'd think our troubles were over! But this ain't no novel, it's an epic. In Carbondale, the van decided that it really did need radiator work, so we got that done while staying at a campsite six miles out of town and biking in to investigate Carbondale each day. Soon we got the van back with a new radiator core. At this point, the problems on the van were starting to line up faster than we could fix them (we suspect that the van could tell how us eco-freaks hated cars and so it hated us). People in Carbondale were extraordinarily sympathetic and helpful. Within minutes of meeting the local bicycle gurus, we had three offers of places to stay closer to town. We chose Mark Robinson's funky home and bike hostel (probably because he also has a limousine). Staying in town gave us plenty of time to investigate the grinding sound in the van's brakes and the late shifting of the transmission. It was relatively easy to fix the transmission (stuck throttle pressure cable) but the brakes were a different story. With the rotors scored and scraping metal on metal we decided to ditch the van before our Tennessee trip. A couple Rabbits risked their lives to drive the van back to Bloomington using only the emergency brake to fetch the Mercedes. At this point, we had been able to meet some locals, check out ISU, go to the farmer's market, get some idea of the real estate available, and ride to the state fair in Mark's limo (leaving the crowd to think we were Soul Asylum leaving the show). Carbondale proved to be a friendly town and a fine possibility for an ecovillage.
So, next we zoomed off to Tennessee in the Mercedes, happy to be in a reliable car (but disappointed to have to leave all but one bike). In Tennessee we were anxious to meet a group of people near Maynardsville who were active in land trusts and building an ecology education center called Narrow Ridge. We had hopes of collaborating with them and possibly purchasing a parcel of land down the road from theirs. Unfortunately, the gravel road to the strawbale visitors' house at Narrow Ridge was too treacherous for the Mercedes and we hit a rock and got a flat tire. We swapped the flat for a spare and headed into Knoxville to get some groceries and check out the town. As we walked out of the Food Co-op, we saw beneath the car a serious puddle of oil that was getting bigger fast (ah, another toxic fluid).
This time the culprit was a leaking oil pan, no doubt having been punctured at the same time as the flat. We were actually quite lucky to have made it the 30 miles into Knoxville without seizing up the engine. We knew the old tow truck routine pretty well at this point, so we had the car dropped off at the shop where they sealed it with some epoxy (since to weld it properly they'd have to pull the whole engine). Luckily, we Rabbits make friends quickly. While our car was getting fixed we had a night on the town and found a place to stay with the Co-op's produce manager, Barley Farmer (that's his name, we swear).
And that, folks, truly was the end of our car trouble adventure on that trip. Though it was tough, we learned a lot, generally kept our heads together, and came through it content to be our car-snubbing, eco-selves.
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