The Magic Bus

of ordinary days

Found the original, scratched photo of Puerto Nuevo, Mexico, 1983

I’ll never forget her. I was 17 years old, had just graduated high school, and simultaneously ended up moving with my parents away from everyone I knew, just over the county line from Los Angeles to Ventura County. I had a Volkswagen Bug, loaded with treasures, and I was standing in the driveway of mom and dad’s new home, not knowing what I was going to do with my life. You see, I blew-it in high school. The cheerleader and part-time television actor left high school with a C+ average, no hope of college and no money for it anyways. I was a happy go lucky girl with a job back in the San Fernando Valley, where I would help operate a ski desk in a travel agency.

Arms piled high with stuff, there she was. The distinct putter, a young mother would round the corner onto our street bouncing by in a bright yellow and white Volkswagen Bus, windows down, kids screaming, her curly hair flying out the window, disappearing into the neighborhood.

I wanted that. I want it again. I want that life for everyone. The carefree days of no social media, never ending park days, music filling the house, food on the stove and my young soul intact.

When I met my husband John, five years later, in Lucky’s grocery store, he was neatly arranging green apples in the produce section. I had no idea he drove a VW bus.

Walking across the parking lot for our first date at a Taco Bell, I still didn’t know. Apparently he was angry he had to drive the orange bus, because his prized Volkswagen Bug was hot wired and stolen, a few months prior. His grandparents had given it to him and not only did he restore it, he treasured it. Hesitant to do anything but ride his bike, John saved enough money to buy an orange and beige ‘79 Volkswagen Bus. Although it fit his double bass way better than the bug, he was in mourning. But there lie my dream…

So cheers to the orange bus, the magic bus that took us to the beach every weekend, and down to San Diego where we would dare him to take us to Puerto Nuevo for lobster, after a windblown day running on Coronado Beach. A young man would come by the table, snap our first picture together on a polaroid camera, and John would buy me a rose. Our orange bus saw way too much kissing, laughing and singing.., but can you ever have enough love? Proudly and slowly, he drove us up to our newly rented cabin in Mount Baldy, California where we would marry in front of the fireplace and 30 guests, 18 months after seeing each other in the grocery store. We’d pack my beloved cat, Rudy and his tall cat-tree John built him. Rudy preferred the real trees while his cat tree collected snow and birds. The orange bus could hold more building supplies than any small truck and would bring our first Christmas tree home, plus wood for our first greenhouse, where John proudly grew Orchids. We always said it took a week to build it and just 9 songs on the record player to tear it down. The magic bus would zoom down the hill everyday for work, with an older mountain resident parked at the base, telling us he actually saw John come around the corner on two wheels one early morning while sipping his coffee. He couldn’t believe his eyes!

My silly rendition of our ‘79 VW Bus

We eventually saved five thousand dollars and bought a home down in the city. The orange bus would help move us to a contrasting lime green 1955 home. It was December 5th 1985 and I had just turned 25 years old. We hung Christmas lights on the house and immediately started renovation.

Eventually, I felt our home needed a dog, so one day after work I headed to our local shelter and saw “dog of the week.” A beautiful collie mix. John had told me all the stories of growing up with collies and I knew I had to bring him home. I loaded Casey, cone of shame and all, into the back of my small Subaru and surprise! He would jump onto the pullout sofa bed we were using, and become John’s best friend. John would soon become a skateboard musher, as Casey pulled him around the neighborhood. Kids would gather on our porch in anticipation of the evening ride.

We would bring three children home from the hospital in the magic bus and laugh about all the years we converted it into the best camping vehicle ever. I would make curtains for it, John would take the first bench seat turn it sideways under the driver’s side windows and bolt it down. The back bench seat would fold down for us to sleep on, the side bench would hold the palm basket for the baby and when another baby came, the floor behind the front seats would be for the toddler to sleep on, palm basket above., and so on. We loved beach camping and somehow fit all the things into our bus. From duffle and sleeping bags, pillows, bbq, ice-chest, portable crib, rickety old baby swing, you name it, it came out of that bus. Eventually bicycles would go on the roof-rack and yep, we’d forget one time, and had to back out of the McDonald’s drive-through. I remember having to politely ask every car to move for us. No room above for the bikes to travel through, so rather than dig through the bus for the kids and go inside, snacks would do!

Our life was full of love, arguments over too much work as John was struggling to grow his small electrical business, celebrations, everyday joys, pet tragedies, beach days, and dreams. I loved that orange bus and the music that came out of the tape player, watching my kids grow-up in it, windows down, laughter, strapped in facing forward, engine in back, air in front. I could see the asphalt through the stick shift hole below. When the bus wouldn’t start, I’d tell the kids to hold on, get out, rock it back and forth, until I could get momentum to roll it down our slightly sloped driveway, jump back in as it bounced onto the street, turn the wheel, then jump back out and run with it down the street until I had enough speed to get back in and jump start it, kids acting like this was a ride at Disneyland. Now they are mortified to hear these stories. Eventually John got us a safer car. I believe that was when I stalled on the railroad tracks near the preschool and yes, I ran with it stopping traffic, and got them to school.

To this day we look back and see our whole life beginning with the magic bus. Every time we’d go up an onramp to the freeway, cars would scramble to drive past us at mach speed. We’d drive with permanent smiles, thinking any minute our Flintstones vehicle would drop some running doors below us, “oh no! it’s a VW Bus, we must get around it,” we’d scream! Windows down. And yes, my hair flying.

I was 18 years old and on that particular day in 1978, there was something magically ordinary about her life. In my mind, she was refined, yet brazen, controlled and wild.

And I wanted that…

I’m still digging for a few pictures of our kids in the bus :)

The kids | taken by my very talented brother on film

We’d listen to this band a lot when driving the VW bus :) This song was always on repeat from 1985, the year we were married. I think it’s fitting.