VW Story
Chapter Two
After Doortje and
I came back from New Guinea at the end of 1970, we stayed on her parents' dairy
farm in Gippsland, Victoria, until we were married in May, 1971. We began to think about buying a car and
looked in car yards in Sale. I recall
that the best we came across, for utilitarian country driving, was a Ford
Falcon station wagon, but we hesitated, possibly because we couldn't afford it.
Doortje's father
made enquiries among farming friends, and an engineer in Traralgon told him
about a VW Kombi that we should look at.
We did. It was a panel van, not
a Kombi, a dove blue 1957 model with 1200cc engine, only fourteen years old. And yet it was sitting in the middle of a
paddock, being used to store hay bales!
It was empty when I saw it, but grass seed had sprouted in the grooves
of the floor! Despite this, it was in
quite good condition, with no rust and perfectly driveable.
We bought our
first Type 2 Volksie for $150, which can be put into perspective - Doortje's
engagement ring cost $250 and that was really the last of our money! After we drove it back from Traralgon, I did
a grease and oil change and cut and polished the paintwork. It looked like new and everything worked
mechanically.
The earliest
photos of the van show that it had non-original turn indicators installed above
the headlights, so I now assume they were on it when we bought it but were not
original, as I'm sure it had turn semaphores mounted on the "b"
pillar aft of each door window, presumably disconnected. I did add decent truck-type rear-view
mirrors on the doors.
After we cleaned
out the interior, I built a bench seat sideways opposite the barn doors. This converted into a bed by pulling the
seat on side runners towards the doors and folding the seatback down towards
the wall. I've never seen this
arrangement since, yet it enabled the area above the engine compartment to be
permanent storage space, undisturbed by changing needs in the "living
space". The mattress covers, aka
seat covers, and a curtain covering the space under the seat, were made by
Doortje's Mum out of red velvet! Our
own little den of iniquity!
I also fitted a
removeable masonite screen in the space behind the front seat occupants' heads,
so the two parts of the vehicle were completely separate. The screen was decorated on the
"inside" by my rendition of Aquarius and Pisces combined.
A couple of
weekends before our wedding, we went for a drive to East Gippsland, but were
just passing under the old rail bridge at Stratford when the motor blew up, or
at least broke some rings and lost interest in proceeding any further. We limped back to Sale and had a Repco
changeover motor installed in time for our honeymoon. It seems that sitting in a paddock for a considerable length of
time had produced rust rings in the cylinders.
At least reconditioned motors were not expensive then. I believe motors were reconditioned by
Volkswagen in their factory at Clayton in Melbourne, where all our Volkswagens
were built.
The blue van
proved its worth on our honeymoon. We
drove along the east coast of the continent with no definite destination in
mind, staying at Lakes Entrance, Eden, (detoured to Canberra), Sydney, Port
Macquarie, Coffs Harbour, Ballina and Byron Bay, finally calling a halt at
Surfer's Paradise (where, among other things, we played mini-golf!).
Relaxing on the trip north up the east coast.
There is
something special about touring in a Type 2 VW. Without a bonnet, the road seems "in your face" as it
disappears underneath, and the higher seating provides better views than a
sedan. Up front there is no engine heat
that normally builds up on a long trip, and the floor of the van has no
tailshaft or exhaust pipe under it to heat up the bedding and make it impossible
to sleep. With the rear hatch open, the
top of the engine compartment is an ideal bench height. Travelling with food supplies and bed space
included in the deal induces feelings of cosiness and contentment.
We made more than
one trip to Adelaide, nearly 1000km from Sale, during winter months and often
in the small hours of the night, enough to prove that the headlights were awful
(six volt) and the front of the vehicle leaked lots of cold air at more than
walking pace (no engine to warm it up!).
Average speed was generally about 80kph but could improve with tail
winds or downhill!
* * * *
At the end of 1971
I applied for a job with the new Commonwealth Teaching Service, and was
appointed to teach at Berrimah Primary School in Darwin. Because fares were paid, we set off in
January 1972 on the Ghan to Alice Springs, and then drove up to Darwin.
Before we left on
the trip I made a mounting bracket to bolt to the front bumper, to hold a water
bag! This was before we had anything
insulated to keep drinks cold. We
probably had a spare fan belt as well, as a concession to driving in the
Northern Territory, and a vulcanising kit to mend punctures, but not much else. For pumping up tyres, I had a double-action
hand pump which worked beautifully and was made in Australia! I've still got it. To pump up a 15" VW cross-ply tyre it took 100 strokes to
raise the pressure 4lbs/sq inch, something I know from experience. Five hundred pumps was enough to make a flat
tyre useful.
From Darwin, we
drove the van "down the track" on weekends to Berry Springs, Howard
Springs or out west. When the wet
season ended and every day was sunny, I had the bright idea of turning the van
into a convertible. I cut off the
section of roof above the front seat, leaving the reinforcement that connects
the windscreen to the b-pillars behind the front doors, and the reinforcement
across the roof in line with the b-pillars.
With the masonite screen fitted behind the front seat, the cargo space
of the van was still fully enclosed. I
shaped a rod to fit across the gap to help support a canvas cover which could
be clipped on when needed, like a tonneau cover. It was possible to unbolt the side window frames and lift them
out of the doors so that the doors were pillarless (and had no windows). We drove the van like this for the whole dry
season, and I can remember Doortje standing up with her hands on top of the
windscreen to feel the rain on her face, when the wet started again.
On Casuarina beach, showing the VW's convertible nature.
One day we went for a swim at Casuarina Beach where it was
possible to drive onto the beach when the tide was low. We drove around a headland and set up our
picnic in a small cove. Later, when the
tide turned, we realised we'd need to be sharp to get back around the headland
before it was too late. We weren't
sharp enough, though, because I got bogged in sand that was already affected by
the incoming water. After removing
anything we valued, we could only sit and watch as the tide rose higher. When it was half up the wheels, my brother
Lester who was with us, declared that unless we got the battery out the car
electrics would be ruined if it became submerged. Desperately, he managed to break one of the battery leads to get
it half out, then with renewed grip, tore the battery out with brute force!
At its highest,
the tide came about three-quarters up the side of the van. Lester went back at low tide with our
policeman neighbour and they towed it home in the early hours of next
morning. While I was at school, Lester
removed the spark plugs to flush the cylinders and restored the battery to its
usual place, so that when I came home in the afternoon, the van was going
again!
However, various rust issues materialised from then on!
* *
* *
At the start of
1973, Doortje, Jackie and I moved to Finke on the Ghan railway route, north of
the South Australian border. With only
75mm annual rainfall, the van would not suffer from too much additional
rust.
Unfortunately,
unseen depredations continued from the sea dousing. The most interesting of these was that the accelerator cable
broke and when I pulled the broken pieces out, they were disintegrating. Somehow, it never occurred to me to order a
new cable and then not use the car until it was installed. Instead, I found some fishing line and
plaited a thick cord from it. I
attached it to the accelerator arm on the carburettor and ran it out of the
engine compartment, along the side of the van and up to the driver's door. I inserted a long screwdriver in one of the
holes exposed along the top of the door where the window frame had been
removed, and attached the fishing line to the screwdriver which acted as a
lever. To drive, it was necessary to
rest my elbow on the door and push the top of the screwdriver forward to
accelerate. Voila! One drawback was that the fishing line
stretched and the length often had to be adjusted. Holding the screwdriver in a set position for any length of time,
changing gears and steering with one hand while driving over corrugations, was
another drawback, tedious to say the least.
We only drove the
van to Alice Springs once in 1973. It
was 90km of rarely used goat track to the Stuart Highway at Kulgera, it was
hot, and we didn't relish the idea of breaking down. It would be at least 24 hours before anyone would realise we
hadn't arrived in Alice and then come to the rescue. The motor gave up the ghost without warning, halfway to Kulgera.
After realising
our predicament, checking our meagre emergency supplies,and trying to get
Jackie back to sleep, we calmed down enough to start searching for the cause of
the breakdown.
There were no
electrics! It only took a few moments
to discover that the battery earth lead was not attached to the chassis, the
bolt worked loose by corrugations and lost.
There was no complete circuit enabling the coil and spark plugs to
operate. A makeshift connection soon
had us back on the road. We breathed a
sigh of relief that something had not been irretrievably broken or rusted out.
After Daniel was born, we resolved to buy a new car in
Adelaide in December. Even the mighty
VW didn't like being dunked in the sea, and it would more than likely continue
to periodically produce faults as a result, ably assisted by that harsh
environment. Nevertheless, we loved
motoring in the van and decided to buy another one.
We sold the 1957 van to a railway fettler at Finke for
$40. It was probably a shame not to
give it to him for nothing, but he reckoned it was money well-spent. It did have brand-new accelerator and clutch
cables!
* * * *
There was high demand for new VW Kombis at the end of
1973. We had to take what we could get,
and although the local dealer had none, he located one on the northern side of
Adelaide. Just before Christmas, Dad
gave me a lift to pick up our brand new Kombi.
It was yuck yellow, known, I believe, as chrome yellow. The dealer left a bunch of flowers on the
passenger seat as part of the deal!
This was my third and as it has turned out, last new vehicle. The Kombi cost $3,500 at a time when, for
example, a Holden Kingswood cost around $3,000. At that time, Kombis were put together at the Clayton factory
from imported CKD kits but with about 60% local content.
Before going on
to Victoria and then back to the Territory, we made some modifications to the
Kombi. First, Dad and I lightly sanded
the roof and then painted it white, down to the gutters. We felt that the yellow was a bit dark for
Territorian heat and the lighter the better.
There was no air-conditioning in those days.
Then from a
wreckers, I got a middle-row bench seat out of a VW Microbus, complete with the
proper VW nut and bolt sets that slot into fittings in the cargo floor. (The
term Kombi relates to "combination", that is to carry cargo or
passengers - it came with all side windows but only the front bucket seats and
was therefore a cross between the Microbus and Panel Van). We also bought an external mesh sun visor.
While in
Victoria, Doortje's father was keen for us to have a bull bar and windscreen
protection, so friends of his welded up what I would call a chook bar (it
wouldn't stop much else) out of galvanised water pipe. At least it didn't weigh too much and
enabled us to fix some bird wire between it and the sun visor for protection
against windscreen damage. The bird
wire made it a little more difficult to concentrate on the potholes and we
abandoned it a couple of months later.
Oncoming traffic or any traffic was much rarer on the bush roads of
central Australia in the early seventies than now.
I sewed up five
pairs of curtains for all the rear windows, including the sliding door. They had curtain wire spring threaded
through both top and bottom hems and attached to cup hooks to stop them
flapping when windows were open.
When we got back
to Adelaide, we found there had been record levels of rain in the north and we
had to wait for the Stuart Highway to re-open.
The day we headed north through Port Wakefield and Port Pirie, it was
only to discover that the bitumen road was closed south of Port Augusta because
Mambray Creek was in flood! We decided
to return to Adelaide where Doortje, with Jac and Daniel, would take up the
offer to fly back to Finke with Bob Smith of New Crown Station, who was in
Adelaide with the station Cessna for a few more days.
Next day the road
was again open and I headed off to get the Kombi to Finke. I reached Pimba without mishap, had a snack
and beer at Spud Murphy's, and then headed west to Kingoonya. The Kombi danced and skidded all over the
chopped up road until I reached a long stretch of water that I knew would test
man and machine. Half way along it,
with negligible traction and darkness falling fast, I swerved over the windrow
and parked where I could at least get out of the vehicle without standing in
mud and water, and decided to try again in the morning.
After
intermittent sleeping for a couple of hours, I woke to the patter of rain on
the roof, and determined that I should drive back to Adelaide in time to catch
the Cessna flight. I drove on adrenalin
back the way I had come, this time in the dark! I arrived at some ungodly hour in Adelaide after an unforgettable
night drive. We all got safely to Finke
except Bob's son, Andrew, who was happy to give up his seat for me and wait
till it was safe to drive the Kombi north.
It extended his holiday in the big smoke!
Being conscientious,
I wanted to be in Finke for the start of the school year. As it turned out, mine was one of the few
schools in the Centre to start on time with all staff present! To top that off, two weeks later I was asked
to accept a promotion and move to Papunya as Principal. Without much warning, we were packing the
Kombi again.
The country was
still very wet and still rain around.
Going north to Alice we waited in a convoy at the Finke River until the
water subsided, and then the Palmer crossing was barely passable, but the Kombi
was equal to the task. Next we were
stranded in a motel in Alice for more than a week waiting for the roads out
west to dry out. We eventually arranged
to travel in convoy with three other vehicles also going to Papunya, and after
last minute shopping and arrangements, we set off in late afternoon.
There were no
four-wheel-drives amongst us, but a grader was stationed between the Derwent
and Dashwood Rivers in case we needed it.
I don't remember all the details of the trip. From Alice to Papunya is about 240km and it normally took about
three hours for the drive. Our
introductory trip took until nearly midnight.
At the Dashwood causeway, the water was halfway between knee and hip as
Doortje walked through, lit up by headlights in the dark, and carrying both
Jackie and Daniel. When my turn came,
the Kombi got through without problem.
Things on the floor got a bit wet.
We were amused to note that among our worldly goods were two tennis
racquets! I can only assume that the
rationale for passengers walking through the water was to lighten the load but
in retrospect it's a bit strange.
Experienced men were leading operations. When she asked the pastor how long he had lived at Papunya,
Doortje was shocked at the reply "Seventeen years". In those conditions!
* * * *
A couple of
months later, the roads were all washed out again, as we had unseasonal rain in
May. We needed to go to Alice Springs
and that trip was not without incident.
The starter motor wasn't working but we weren't too worried about this
as it was easy enough to give the vehicle a bit of a push and then drop the
clutch in second gear. The motor would
start at the first "grab" of the rear wheels.
On the Tanami
road there is a wide black soil plain on Milton Park station east of
Narwietooma, and on this trip the road was sodden and slippery. At one point the Kombi lost traction and
forward motion was possible only with Doortje and I both pushing and the rear
wheels spinning with the engine idling.
I had to be very spry because as soon as the wheels showed any sign of
getting grip, I needed to leap through the driver's doorway and get at the accelerator
(or clutch) before the engine stalled; then repeat the process when the wheels
began to spin again. By good luck as
much as anything we avoided the situation of having to use a starter motor that
didn't work (where to push-start the motor would have been nigh impossible
without traction).
When we reached
the bitumen of the Stuart Highway, we found a line of vehicles on both sides of
the Charles River which was running a banker, about knee-deep. There were 4-wheel drives that were
unwilling to attempt the crossing but we were only hampered by the risk of
stalling in the middle with no starter motor!
As it happened, the teacher from Haast's Bluff came along soon after and
towed us through with his Landcruiser ute.
Back in Papunya,
with the starter motor pulled apart and laid out on newspaper on the kitchen
table, it was obvious that due to the travel conditions of January, the
offending accessory had been packed hard with mud preventing movement of the
drive pinion, and only a thorough cleaning was needed to get it working.
A trip to Tnorala (Gosse's Bluff) in 1975.
At Papunya, I made a large wooden box the
width of the Kombi and shaped to fit between the the middle-row seat and the
engine compartment. The top of the box
was flush with the top of the engine compartment, forming a good-sized
bed. With a mattress on it, the kids
had a place to sleep on long trips, and there was more than a cubic metre of
storage space in the box.
We kept the Kombi
for two years and made lots of bush trips in the Papunya region, to Yuendumu,
Glen Helen, Ormiston Gorge; out east to
Ross River and Trephina Gorge, and a memorable trip through Tyler's Pass,
driving along the rocky creek bed in those days, to Gosse's Bluff (now
Tnorala). By this time (late 1975),
Andrew was six months old and we bought a Toyota Coaster bus to convert into a
camper that five of us could fit into.
The Kombi was sold to a teacher in Alice Springs.
* * * *
Towards the end
of 1980, our family of six moved from Lajamanu to Alice Springs, and on the
spur of the moment, bought another Volksie as a town car to save driving the
bus all the time. That car was a 1973
Type 3 station wagon. It had a twin
carbie 1600cc motor and was yuck yellow, sorry, chrome yellow. It was a very nice car with plenty of power,
excellent gear box, and plenty of room for six of us (sleeping toddlers were quite comfortable in the rear space over the engine cover). It felt solid on rough roads.
The kids remember
that VW as our rally car! We were
picnicking south of Alice Springs in Roe Creek and I took some of the kids for
a drive on the sandy tracks along the river to get firewood or something. I must have been hamming it up a bit because
they reckoned we were rally driving!
On the road to Uluru. Not broken down - engine in back!
In mid-1981,
Doortje's mother was staying with us and we decided to go for a Sunday drive to
Uluru. (Despite what most tourists
imagine, that was a 900km round trip, including 500km of corrugations and sand
in those days). With seven in the car,
we left Alice at daybreak and reached Uluru in mid-morning, spending the day
there. We left again in late afternoon,
and I switched on the headlights at dusk.
After dark, while making good progress, I noticed the lights were
growing dimmer. When we reached
Erldunda at the Stuart Highway, we really had no headlights. I didn't quite understand what had happened
and thought we would wait till daylight, even though I had to work on
Monday. There was no accommodation
available at Erldunda.
Seven of us slept as well as we could in the Type 3! It was a long cold night. It was impossible to move much to get
comfortable. Next day, with 200km to
travel, we slowly lost power the further we progressed. By the time we drove through the Gap into
Alice, I could barely keep it in third gear, and we limped home. The electrics had been powered by battery
power alone until it was flat, because the generator wasn't working. It was the old story - dust and grime seized
up the brushes in the generator so they made less contact as they wore out, and
only a good clean was required.
Nevertheless, it was impressive that the VW did actually get us home,
even though behind schedule!
Another trip to Uluru, this time camping.
When we went back to living in the bush we sold the
"town car" and, succumbing to fashion (and good sense - with a young
family), we bought a diesel Landcruiser.
In the future, we were to make only one more trip in the outback in a
VW.
* * * *
