Our Magic Bus Adventure

My Dad bought a VW Bus in the mid sixties.  It was a cool bus.  But then my Dad was pretty darn cool.   We would go on daytrips and he would pick up hitch hikers and treat them to dinner or lunch.  Sometimes he would even bring them home with us, so they could have a home cooked meal and a place to crash for the night.  He was a lost soul growing up and so now his family and home meant everything to him and I think he just loved to share it with, what he considered, other lost souls.  I got that from him, sharing my home with lost souls, and I cherish it.

In late 1970, when my sister was 18, I was 16 and my cousin was 20, my parents decided we girls were old enough for our own adventure and let us take the bus to visit our cousins in Oregon.  We just knew it would be magical.  No parents!  On our own.  How could it be anything but a success?

We set out mid morning singing Magic Bus, our theme song.  We must have sung it a 100 times that trip.  Everything went along without incident until we got just below Shasta.  It was dusk, we needed gas and it was definately time for a potty break.  So we stopped at this little gas station as it was closing.  The owner being a small town man, kept the station open for us and got us gas.  He told us we could us the restroom, even though he was leaving, because the door automatically locked when it was closed. (Great)  Well, we did what teenage girls do on their own.  We fooled around, rearranged the bus and generally took our time getting ready to get back on the road.

It was full on dark when we were finally ready to leave, the owner was gone and it had started snowing.  My sister went to start the car and low and behold she had no keys.  We hunted and hunted until she realized she had set them on the ledge in the restroom.  You know the one with the door that automatically locks?  It was the age of no cell phones and you needed a dime for the payphone, which we didn't have.  So we set off for the highway to try and flag down someone to help.  Hopefully not a mass murderer.  It was scary, dark and cold.  Some adventure!

As luck would have it though, a CHP happened along.  He stopped, took us back to the station and called the owner.  He came right over, only living about 5 minutes away.  We could see the two surpressing their smiles and trying hard not to roll their eyes.  Beyond that, my sister got the keys from the restroom and we once again were on our way.  The CHP waited until we were safely on the road.  Nice man.  I felt the magic  ( and our Irish luck) of success.

It was so late, by this time, and snowing very hard,that we had to stop a few miles up the road, in Shasta.  We spent the night in a small hotel and laughed out butts off at our misadventure.  I think it was the relief that we were safe.  We woke up the next morning to a clear sky and Mt Shasta majestically standing there right across the street,  It seemed that way anyway. and it added to the magic.

My Dad had that bus, until I moved out.  He gave it to me to take me on my way.  I still had it when I met the love of my life and his son.  We had quite a few more wonderful adventures in that ol' Magic Bus.