Across America in Kaya, a 1989 VDUB Westfalia

This story really begins last Tuesday, November 25th 2008 at 1:14 p.m. Lisa and I had returned from Vermont to New York City after our first days off in five weeks. We had helped a New York couple open a fish shack themed restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. In Vermont, we realized that we were absolutely miserable and couldn't take the filth, grime and crime of the Big Apple. That sort of desperate living in the cement beehive wasn't for us. We needed to remedy the situation and get ourselves as far away as possible.

We parked our trusty Subaru on 83rd and walked solemnly to the restaurant trying to figure out exactly what to say to be released from our prison sentence. The owners were sitting in the front room of the restaurant sensing the impending conversation. We all concluded that this wasn't a good fit for any of us and said our goodbyes in a typical New York fashion. Gleefully, Lisa and I danced back to the Subaru and raced towards adventure.

Within one hour, our Subaru was loaded and we headed down to Maryland to pick up our beloved Volkswagen Westfalia named Kaya from master Volkswagen whisperer Karl Mullendore. The drive was great and freeing except for the massive traffic jams that clogged New York’s asphalt arteries. By the time we reached New Jersey the previous week’s negativity and despair washed away in the glow of the setting sun’s vibrant colors.

We arrived at Karl’s shop early in the afternoon after an overnight stop at Stoudt’s Microbrew in Adamsville, Pennsylvania. Kaya simply glowed in the sunshine and greenery of western Maryland’s hills brightly colored with her hippie era mural by artist extraordinaire Ken Mitchell. Maybe part of it was due to a mild hangover and the fact that we had left the drabby, grey world of the rotted Apple behind.

Karl had added the third stage of four major upgrades we were planning for this year. The fourth has been put on hold as finances once again tightened. Karl outfitted her with bigger brakes, springs, big truck tires, solar panels, secret locking compartments and a host of other much appreciated improvements. The stage was set, the characters dressed and the show begins.

First stop was in Hopewell Junction, New York, just north of the city to visit Peter and Christina Zitz and their two adorable kids. Peter is a salesman for Michael Skurnik Wines and has a deep, deep cellar that would keep a 100 people dead drunk for weeks on end before ever dwindling the flow. What started as a bowl of Duck Ragout over pasta with a vintage bottle of kick ass burgundy quickly escalated into more wine and a promise to hang out one more day for Thanksgiving with his family. I think Peter needed the hippie component at his Thanksgiving table to join the Germans, neighbors and family he had already invited.

Thanksgiving was amazing! The table Peter and Christina set was festooned with a wonderful roast turkey, cranberries, dressing, sweet potatoes, pureed butternut squash and all the other holiday classics that dot most tables this time of year. The party started with 1996 Pierre Gimonnet Gastronome Champagne, fantastic cheeses and Framani salamis. Peter opened two fantastic 1996 Burgundies to accompany the turkey. The night ended with sleepy eyes, unbuckled pants and an apple pie cook-off. One of the German guests had recently learned how to make an apple pie from an instructor at the Culinary Institute of America. Christina has been making a “healthful” version of the seminal American dessert out of spelt flour and organic sugars for a while. Both were delicious in their own right and most felt no need to crown one the king.

After a few days in Vermont we hit the road westward and onto our dreams. The drive was largely uneventful despite strong winds and blowing snow thru Indiana. I will make one observation though, it simply amazes me to see people drive insanely fast on black ice in a white out. I took morbid pleasure in seeing a gentleman cursing safely after his spinout which landed him in a ditch shortly after he went flying past me in his luxury sports car. We arrived safely at my mother’s house in Plainfield, Illinois.