(Picture by Gary Nolan)
Well here we are again in another Vanagon. Remember how I said I hated them? I did hate them after my diesel Vanagon experience. But then one day my friend Reginald comes over and tells me that there is a van I just have to see. I had been thinking how nice it would be to have something to just drive up and camp in. At the time I had my Toyota pickup but I thought maybe he would want to trade…..
Long story short, he traded straight across. The van was a 1980 (still air cooled) ASI Riviera camper. It was pretty beat up on the outside but the interior was very nice. It seemed to run just fine with the usual loose and sloppy transmission shifter. I knew from experience that the shifter sloppiness was caused by the little plastic coupling above the gas tank being worn out. But the important thing to me here was that all of the appliances worked and the pop-top was not significantly torn.
I did notice that a piece of the cooling tin was missing and the thermostat was stuck open (better open than closed I thought). There were no oil drips, and it wasn’t empty; on an air cooled engine, if it doesn’t drip, it’s probably empty. I knew that the truck I was trading him was worth more than the van, but I had decided that I really had to have the van, oh how love works.
The man that owned it had gotten it in trade for some work. Everything about this van screamed “don’t buy me,” but I paid no mind to my tingling used-car-sense and was the new victim owner of the van.
So what would possess me to trade a perfectly good little truck for this brick? It’s a dream, a long-lived dream shared by many a hippie, boon-docker, and otherwise alternative-lifestyle sorts. Here’s how the reasoning goes; with a camper van you can go anywhere you want and set up your home. If anyone gives you any shit, you just pop it down and take off. And if it’s a Volkswagen this is accompanied by decent miles per gallon, and decent unimproved road access.
But like I say, that’s the dream. The reality often works out slightly different. After I got the van home I started noticing an oil leak. No big deal, they all leak. But then it started getting bad. I looked around and found that it was coming from under the tin on the drivers side. I knew what that meant, oil cooler O-rings. That also meant pulling the engine. Sure, it’s not to hard to pull, but it sucks just the same. I went ahead and changed the oil, which I had been meaning to do and put in a good Mahle or Mann filter and cleaned the pickup screen and sump. The leak stopped. It just quit one hundred percent. The oil was not thinned out from gas so I wondered why, and I still don’t know, but I was very happy about it.
I don’t know why it said Magnuson on the front or why the previous owners had cut a square out of the grill. But it was obvious that someone couldn’t park worth a damn.
The first trip it took was to take Michelle and me up into the woods for a nice day out with the top up and the windows open. Vans with fold out beds lend themselves to certain activities which the owners are most happy to partake in. The only problem is the thought of previous owners upon the the same bed and principle. But it provided for an enjoyable day doing what a van like this is supposed to do.
The van became my only vehicle for a little while. Such a vehicle is really not suited to daily use. It is cumbersome, cold, noisy, and not to good on gas in the city. But we did get something else, which allowed me to take Reginald on a fishing/camping trip for his birthday.
It was a lot of fun and a great way to relax. We also took it on several scouting trips during the summer in preparation for hunting season. On our last trip the weather was very hot and the logging roads we were on were extremely steep. We got to the top of a mountain and down the other side but when we got to the bottom I noticed that the engine was starting to make a small tapping noise. I knew that was a bad thing.
Remember that missing cooling tin? I had bought a new piece but had never installed it. That is a mortal sin in a VW air cooled. I knew that too, but somehow never got around to it. Well that tapping noise was a direct result of that piece of tin. Warning, technical mumbo-jumbo to follow; skip this bit if you don’t care.
The cooling tin seals in and directs the air from the fan around the finned cylinders and heads. The thermostat is a bi-metallic bellows that pulls a wire connected to a bell crank and flap. The flap has a spring on it that holds it open normally. When the engine is cool the thermostatic bellows contracts, pulling on the cable, thus closing the flap and cutting off the exit for air from fan. This helps the engine get up to temp quickly, which is more important than people might think.
Most engine wear happens at start up and just after. Thick cold oil does not flow well. Wisely VW made the thermostat to default to off, so that if it does not work your motor will not burn up. But without all of the cooling tin, none of that matters because the air from the fan will not be directed around all of the engine parts, especially the all important oil cooler. So one of two things is going to happen first, either the connecting rods will start to wear out due to overheated oil, or a valve will crack. That was the tapping noise.
I contemplated buying a rebuilt engine, but the van was so beat up that I didn’t contemplate it for long. I put it up on Craigslist as a running project but nobody wants an air cooled Vanagon. Eventually some guy from Eugene told me he wanted it but didn’t have the nine hundred dollars I was asking for it. A month or so went by and he called back and offered six hundred. I told him I would take no less than seven (but I really didn’t care, I was losing big anyways). He said he could give me six now and the other hundred in a month. I said OK knowing that I might never get the other hundred. I didn’t, and I still have the title. Most likely he is living in someones back yard in it. I do have a bill of sale so the DMV can’t blame me if he does something stupid with it though!
Oh well, lessons learned. I really can’t blame the van here, it was clapped out when I got it, I beat the hell out of it, and it had a tone of miles on it. I guess it did what it was made to do for about a year for me and that’s OK, it was worth the adventures it took us on.
I laughed out loud when I saw that another Vanagon wormed its way into the Freeman collection. It is like the Devil going fishing – it’s all about the right lure on the end of the line. Troll with the right VW and Michael Freeman will eventually bite. 🙂 But I understand – I have a tendency to buy the same car multiple times once I get to know and understand one. I guess that it is just dumb luck that my multiples have been Mopar C bodies, GM B bodies and Panthers.
Rest assured that your cautionary tales have cured at least one reader of the desire to own an old Vanagon.
Just as I was unconsciously browsing for what would be my 3rd Town Car…
Ditto… our family owned 4 air-cooled VW’s before moving on the Subaru, Honda and Toyota… and, as mentioned below, it is way cheaper to stay at Motel 6, than to own a VW camper!
Yes, familiarity builds contempt, but it’s a sort of comfortable contempt.
As Baruth pointed out in the recent re-issue of “The Grand National Problem” much of our hobby is irrationally driven from our heart. My own personal vehicle that straddles the love-hate divide is the KJ Liberty Diesel.
There are 4-6 various Mks of the VW Campers running around up here most with AWD and a few with Subaru engine swaps.
I was looking hard at those KJ diesels.
If it were not for the irrational car enthusiast no interesting modes of transport would be on the road.
Very true.
Alistar us going to flame me yet again, but VW Vans are for a special breed of human that that thrive on getting elbow-deep in grease at regular intervals.
I have never particularly liked wrenching on cars. For me, the best car is the one I spend the very least amount of time and money wrenching on. As I have become older, this trend has become even more pronounced. There are simply too many other things I want to spend my time and money on.
The seat of nails is still best option for a Van owner, because the pain in your backside serves to remind you of what will inevitably happen with your van.
As a note of defense, I am not an camping type person. I came to the realisation long ago that I could stay in any hotel I wanted for as long as I wanted for the price of owning, maintaining and insuring any RV, including a VW Van. Thus, that is what we do.
Not going to flame you Canucklehead, too busy enjoying the sun and surf on Union Island in the Grenadines (some pics on my blog http://shufti.wordpress.com/). Lots of vans here, all Japanese, no Vanagons sadly 🙂 Only one Land Rover spotted. I’m taking some snaps of the vehicles, will post them to the cohorts page in a bit.
cheers
alistair
Sounds nice, I would not miss the VWs only the Landies
I came VERY close to buying a Westphalia van… but then, the reality of my mom’s ’68 VW van (rebuilding the motor every 50,000 miles) came back to me… and all the complaints from my younger brother about his 2000-something Westphalia (“the brakes wear out every 5,000 miles… and VWoA says that’s normal!”) again reminded me how much I love Toyota cars and Ford trucks…
I’ve had a couple of Bugs and a Rabbit, but my only experience was in a roommates mid-70s bus. For what it’s worth, if the heater blower fuse above the center of the engine is knocked out of its mount, it can fall and jam the throttle linkage. If you then turn off the engine to stop the runaway, the helpful engineers at VW decided that you don’t really want the headlights on. This can be moderately exciting on a mountain road. (For the uninitiated, the brights will turn on if called for. I didn’t know.)
I was doing an ill-advised renovation of a 73 Super Beetle when the dot-com implosion intervened and put the project on permanent hold and the rusty car to be a a parts donor for the local VW shop. My next flat-four will be in a Subaru.
>>For what it’s worth, if the heater blower fuse above the center of the engine is knocked out of its mount, it can fall and jam the throttle linkage. If you then turn off the engine to stop the runaway, the helpful engineers at VW decided that you don’t really want the headlights on. This can be moderately exciting on a mountain road. <<
This is a safety feature, so that you're not unnecessarily terrified by the obstacle you're about to hit.
I’m gonna miss stuff like this in the future, when there are no vehicles left that are so goofy and some that were seriously crappy, to tinker on and curse at, to pine over, and lust after. With the current raft of transportation appliances devoid of sheer crappyness, what will we all do with all that free time and money? I for one have fond memories of helping Dad fix the water pump in the ’68 Fury in the Motel 6 parking lot in Cali on a road trip in the early ’70s. Fine times indeed…I can’t imaging tinkering with a Prius even now, except to pimp it out with some Hello Kitty barf from the Canadian Tire store…Oh for the love of shit like the Westy
lol
I find it curiously appropriate that in the lead-in picture the Vanagon appears to be parked in front of a port-a-potty. Obviously it’s a optical illusion,,,,,, much like the vehicle itself.
It is stories like this that remind me to stick with a tent and bicycle. I have a 92 VW GTI that I have had (mostly) good luck with for many moons now. At times, I dream of a Vanagon or Bus Westy type of thing to cruise to the beaches and camp, take a cross country trip… then I realize, reality. It will break down. It will be over priced in the first place. Don’t.
Thanks for another reality check.
Some great stuff here! I found the penultimate reason to hold on to your old air-cooled Pop-Top. I’m sure there are literally thousands of us Vanagon owners who have capitulated to this already. Mine too needs an oil cooler seal or two, and it leaks at such a rate that it became uneconomical to road trip. Now, when I need a change of pace, I can go to my parked Happy Camper and do my own road trip right in my yard. It’s almost like getting away, especially when you factor in the uncomfortable bed and permanent smell of bacon that has permeated the carpet and upholstery. I’m a 64 y.o. with a ’65 Volvo 122s as my very reliable daily driver. I say “someday” to the ’82 VW, but I may die first. Hint: If you do this too, be sure to wash and wax it regularly, and don’t park it where the ground stays wet! That “someday” may just be in a few years when some poor old schmo offers big bucks–see Type 2’s.
Bought a 1980 VW Vanagon in 1988 as it was the only one I could swing money wise at that time. Had originally 60K miles and very clean and I drove it another 90K, on the same engine. Finally rebuild in 2010 I find working and locating parts a real hobby and after you get use to the gutless power it becomes a very comfortable weekender.
Sad tale 1982 vanagon diesel.I’m being sued by the place I took it for repair they couldn’t handle it.