I blame it on the pop can of distraction.....Gypsie wrote:"No way" we said. "they're too smart for that" we said. "they would have checked and seen where we landed"- we said.Westy78 wrote:Dammit@! How many times did we say they're probably sitting at Hawthorne? Sorry we missed you guys. I guess that just means you have to come to Maupin.
had we actually let a pitcher empty before getting another we may have had a chance of extricating ourselves long enough to take a stab at swinging by over there. Aaaaah...Beeeeeeer.
The Great 2009 Springtime AsstroRun (tm)
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Westy78
- IAC Addict!
- Location: Stumptown OR
- Status: Offline
Chorizo, it's what's for breakfast.
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Elwood
- IAC Addict!
- Location: So Cal
- Status: Offline
Unbelivable 
I checked in thru-out the night, wondering and worring and came close to calling the oher Lab myself with free long distant cell mins. but said - self- this is a PNW guy thing and might just be the start of glasseyes big surprise announcment.
Might still be???? glad your all laughing and safe.
I checked in thru-out the night, wondering and worring and came close to calling the oher Lab myself with free long distant cell mins. but said - self- this is a PNW guy thing and might just be the start of glasseyes big surprise announcment.Might still be???? glad your all laughing and safe.
'69 weekender ~ Elwood
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Gypsie
- rusty aircooled mekanich
- Location: Treadin' Lightly under the Clear Blue!
- Status: Offline
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satchmo
- Old School!
- Location: Crosby, MN
- Status: Offline
I'm headed back home thru WallerWaller today with tail between legs (among other things). I'll give you a call. I need my good CARma back.spiffy wrote:You guys soiled yer karma by not stopping by the spiff' ranch. Way to go.
Must take a Doctor er something to find the right lab.
Tim
By three methods we may learn wisdom:
First, by reflection, which is noblest;
second, by immitation, which is easiest;
and third, by experience, which is bitterest. -Confucius
First, by reflection, which is noblest;
second, by immitation, which is easiest;
and third, by experience, which is bitterest. -Confucius
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glasseye
- IAC Addict!
- Location: Kootenays, BC
- Status: Offline
Asstro greetings from Crescent City, CA. No pix yet. Too busy driving. And stuff...
The following is long and bohring. Read at your own risk.
In downtown Coeur D’Alene, I succumbed to my first expensive lunch. Barely two hours into my journey and my commitment to prepare my own food and forego as many restaurant meals as possible was broken. As I left “Noodle Express”, on a whim I took along my chopsticks. “You never know”, I said sagely to myself, and stowed the chopsticks along with the knives and forks. Well, along with the knife and fork. I was travelling light.
This journey of nearly six weeks was the longest I’d undertaken in an Asstro since a circumcontinenal run I made in the late eighties, when my first Asstro was still a pup. In preparation for this new trip, I’d decided that sleeping on the floor was for younger bodies and fabricated a “gaucho”, a single bunk running lengthwise behind the driver’s seat. Testing it for the first time, I was chagrined to realized that, unlike my first Asstro which had tinted windows, the current one had clear ones. Crystal clear. As in easy-to-see through. From the outside. Lying there, testing my new bed, I realized that viewed from the outside, my bunk was exactly level with the bottom of the side window and my body laying there on the bunk must look like something on display in a delicatessen case. Not good.
I attempted a quick fix by means of a length of string and a bit of dark cloth, but it didn’t work. More of the window was still open to view than was covered, and the draperies merely added drama to the scene within.
I decided that I would cover the windows with black construction paper, but a visit to the stationery store revealed that the only available materials were far too small and far too expensive. A half roll of tarpaper left over from a house construction project provided ample size for the job and the price was right, so I cut off a few pieces and rolled them up and stowed them inside the Asstro, all without a plan to install the tightly-curled tarpaper on to the insides of the six windows on the van. I did take a utility knife, a pair of scissors, and a roll of black gaffer tape (very rare and hard to get)
My first night in the van, parked on a street in suburban Portland proved the necessity of blanking out the windows at all costs. Not only was I a diorama for passers by, but the glare of nearby street lights shone in the windows, making sleep nearly impossible. Also, the thought of leaving several thousand dollars worth of camera gear, laptop computer music players and other camping stuff on public view while I was away from the vehicle was just too horrible to contemplate.
So, in Roseburg, OR I decided to pull an Amskeptic. Fortified with ramen noodle lunch and spring-like temperatures, in vacant parking lot I set to work.
I’d already decided that a template was the way to go. I’d carefully preserved an otherwise useless copy of “USA Today” with that purpose in mind, and I began by attempting to tape it to the inside of the window. It was too small. And my attempts to tape it to the window frame merely tore it, rendering it useless as a template. Besides, I’d just noticed that, far from being identical, each window was unique. Only the rear windows were the same shape, but mirror images of each other. I’d have to make at least three, maybe four templates, all from the fragile, too-small newsprint sheets. Hmm.
I was determined to do a decent job of this, it would never do to have crappy tarpaper windows on my RV now, would it? I sat there and thought about it for a while and then in a burst of recklessness, began to install a sheet of tarpaper directly onto the window. Templates be damned. Now, the tarpaper came from a the end of the roll - it was a remnant, right? That meant that the tarpaper was incredibly springy, not willing to conform to the window at all. Worse, it was greasy and the gaffer tape wouldn’t stick. I finally managed to get one piece to stick more or less in the opening by jamming it between the glass and the plastic surround and, pushing it firmly in to place, made a crease in the tarpaper that more or less defined the shape. I cut it out with the scissors and began to install the piece, but quickly ran into trouble because as fast as I stuck it in to place, it sprang back out. I couldn’t push it deeply enough into the narrow space.
I tried a screwdriver, but quickly gave up when I discovered that I was merely perforating the tarpaper and not pushing it in to place. Frustrated, annoyed at the recalcitrant material, and sweating, yes! sweating in the hot Oregon sunshine, I sat back and let the tarpaper fall annoyingly onto the bunk where it curled itself up into a tight little roll and sat there, mocking me.
I needed a tool to push the tarpaper into place without tearing it. But what? Boinnnggg! It suddenly hit me. I dug down to the bottom of the kitchen box and recovered one of the chopsticks and set to work. PERFECT! The rounded handle end of the chopstick proved the perfect tool to jam the tar paper into the narrow slot all around the window. I was done the first window in five minutes and the other five in ten minutes more.
The result looks almost like factory-dark windows and not only do they hide the van`s contents and let me sleep in privacy, they keep the sun from shining inside. The van is noticeably cooler inside now. All because I saved my chopsticks.
The following is long and bohring. Read at your own risk.
In downtown Coeur D’Alene, I succumbed to my first expensive lunch. Barely two hours into my journey and my commitment to prepare my own food and forego as many restaurant meals as possible was broken. As I left “Noodle Express”, on a whim I took along my chopsticks. “You never know”, I said sagely to myself, and stowed the chopsticks along with the knives and forks. Well, along with the knife and fork. I was travelling light.
This journey of nearly six weeks was the longest I’d undertaken in an Asstro since a circumcontinenal run I made in the late eighties, when my first Asstro was still a pup. In preparation for this new trip, I’d decided that sleeping on the floor was for younger bodies and fabricated a “gaucho”, a single bunk running lengthwise behind the driver’s seat. Testing it for the first time, I was chagrined to realized that, unlike my first Asstro which had tinted windows, the current one had clear ones. Crystal clear. As in easy-to-see through. From the outside. Lying there, testing my new bed, I realized that viewed from the outside, my bunk was exactly level with the bottom of the side window and my body laying there on the bunk must look like something on display in a delicatessen case. Not good.
I attempted a quick fix by means of a length of string and a bit of dark cloth, but it didn’t work. More of the window was still open to view than was covered, and the draperies merely added drama to the scene within.
I decided that I would cover the windows with black construction paper, but a visit to the stationery store revealed that the only available materials were far too small and far too expensive. A half roll of tarpaper left over from a house construction project provided ample size for the job and the price was right, so I cut off a few pieces and rolled them up and stowed them inside the Asstro, all without a plan to install the tightly-curled tarpaper on to the insides of the six windows on the van. I did take a utility knife, a pair of scissors, and a roll of black gaffer tape (very rare and hard to get)
My first night in the van, parked on a street in suburban Portland proved the necessity of blanking out the windows at all costs. Not only was I a diorama for passers by, but the glare of nearby street lights shone in the windows, making sleep nearly impossible. Also, the thought of leaving several thousand dollars worth of camera gear, laptop computer music players and other camping stuff on public view while I was away from the vehicle was just too horrible to contemplate.
So, in Roseburg, OR I decided to pull an Amskeptic. Fortified with ramen noodle lunch and spring-like temperatures, in vacant parking lot I set to work.
I’d already decided that a template was the way to go. I’d carefully preserved an otherwise useless copy of “USA Today” with that purpose in mind, and I began by attempting to tape it to the inside of the window. It was too small. And my attempts to tape it to the window frame merely tore it, rendering it useless as a template. Besides, I’d just noticed that, far from being identical, each window was unique. Only the rear windows were the same shape, but mirror images of each other. I’d have to make at least three, maybe four templates, all from the fragile, too-small newsprint sheets. Hmm.
I was determined to do a decent job of this, it would never do to have crappy tarpaper windows on my RV now, would it? I sat there and thought about it for a while and then in a burst of recklessness, began to install a sheet of tarpaper directly onto the window. Templates be damned. Now, the tarpaper came from a the end of the roll - it was a remnant, right? That meant that the tarpaper was incredibly springy, not willing to conform to the window at all. Worse, it was greasy and the gaffer tape wouldn’t stick. I finally managed to get one piece to stick more or less in the opening by jamming it between the glass and the plastic surround and, pushing it firmly in to place, made a crease in the tarpaper that more or less defined the shape. I cut it out with the scissors and began to install the piece, but quickly ran into trouble because as fast as I stuck it in to place, it sprang back out. I couldn’t push it deeply enough into the narrow space.
I tried a screwdriver, but quickly gave up when I discovered that I was merely perforating the tarpaper and not pushing it in to place. Frustrated, annoyed at the recalcitrant material, and sweating, yes! sweating in the hot Oregon sunshine, I sat back and let the tarpaper fall annoyingly onto the bunk where it curled itself up into a tight little roll and sat there, mocking me.
I needed a tool to push the tarpaper into place without tearing it. But what? Boinnnggg! It suddenly hit me. I dug down to the bottom of the kitchen box and recovered one of the chopsticks and set to work. PERFECT! The rounded handle end of the chopstick proved the perfect tool to jam the tar paper into the narrow slot all around the window. I was done the first window in five minutes and the other five in ten minutes more.
The result looks almost like factory-dark windows and not only do they hide the van`s contents and let me sleep in privacy, they keep the sun from shining inside. The van is noticeably cooler inside now. All because I saved my chopsticks.
"This war will pay for itself."
Paul Wolfowitz, speaking of Iraq.
Paul Wolfowitz, speaking of Iraq.
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Elwood
- IAC Addict!
- Location: So Cal
- Status: Offline
This is gonna be a good read~read~read =D> Our favorite Canadian boon-docking in his Astro. Hope that tar paper doesn't get too smelly when you get futher south. Think I would have got some black tempra and a foam brush. But then you have the mastery of what you are doing, like Colin, we all have come to appreciate.
Welcome to California and let us know if you need anything on your trip.
Welcome to California and let us know if you need anything on your trip.
'69 weekender ~ Elwood
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whc03grady
- IAC Addict!
- Location: Livingston Montana
- Contact:
- Status: Offline
When we were in Death Valley in late March, early April, the temps were surprisingly mild. Like, upper 40s at night, mid-60s during the day. I wouldn't sweat it (so to speak).glasseye wrote:Gawd.Elwood wrote: Hope that tar paper doesn't get too smelly when you get futher south.I never thought of that. We'll see in Death Valley.
Ludwig--1974 Westfalia, 2.0L (GD035193), Solex 34PDSIT-2/3 carburetors.
Gertie--1971 Squareback, 1600cc with Bosch D-Jetronic fuel injection from a '72 (E brain).
Read about their adventures:
http://www.ludwigandgertie.blogspot.com
Gertie--1971 Squareback, 1600cc with Bosch D-Jetronic fuel injection from a '72 (E brain).
Read about their adventures:
http://www.ludwigandgertie.blogspot.com