Update! With Pictures!

The slow, steady course of a San Marcos summer day is most typically filled with late mornings, later lunches, a dip in the river, and an evening (or prolonged night) with friends. Rest, relax, repeat. While somewhat routine and potentially mundane, life on the bus affords us similar activities: at least for the time being.

Getting the bus livable has been (and it's safe to say that it will continue to be) an ongoing task. In Wimberly some time was devoted to affixing shelves and mounting various speakers and audio equipment via industrial strength Velcro. With the help of some friends (and soon-to-be traveling companions) we got by.

Ben, master of cabinetry

Notice the mess

On Monday we braved randomly strewn but nefarious Texas thunderstorms, eventually securing a canopy for ultra-lounging in true Funky Bus fashion. Thanks, Don and Marsha- doesn't it look great??

Notice how precisely the shades of green complement the bus.

Over the course of Monday night and Tuesday morning, Ryan (the brother-in-law for those less knowledgeable) built some seats that serve dually as sleeping and storage space. My only veritable contribution was helping locate wood scraps of appropriate length, holding an occasional board or two, and intermittently boosting morale.

These pictures show that the amount of sweat is directly proportional to actual work done.


The end result was absolutely fantastic, freeing up space and helping us look less like a circus-on-wheels and more like nomadic explorers.


Upholstered seat-cushions and backrests that detach for more bedding space are still in the works, but I certainly like the improvement. Any ideas on what to paint/affix/cover the boxes with? Sarah mentioned maps from cities or State/National Parks along the way, but we're open to whatever...

Fragments of a day

Let peace follow you. I sit and look out beyond the metal walls that carry Sarah and me over rolling hills of green-gold sea, saturated and made quick by yesterday’s thunderstorms. The purr of the bus is less like a kitten and more akin to a rabid tiger – one whose teeth jangle in metallic sing-song and whose joints have lost all previous ability to absorb impact. She sounds fucking fantastic to me.

We’ve left the comfort of Wimberley behind. (A friend who’s doing an internship abroad has let us park outside his place, use his electricity, and shower in what smells like sulfuric rain). Abnormally cool temperatures replace the usual humidity gouged by scorching heat. These hills, mostly farmland, give way to the continual, inevitable spread of San Antonio, the shifting and moving of people over a given terrain – something neither unusual nor contemporary. A sharp dip in the pavement sends household items noisily to the floorboard, promptly reminding me of our journey’s transience.

After attempting to locate a spare rim and tire at a South San Antonio establishment, we venture (everything in the bus is done at about half pace, comparatively) to the Goeth’s (Sarah’s parents), hoping to secure and organize all our shit more effectively. Later, in an effort to fulfill a long-neglected promise, we drive to John Glen Elementary to pick up the niece and nephew. As Isaac rounds the corner he whirls about and places his hands on his head in dramatic fashion: “The bus! It must be an illusion. It must be.” This is either thinly masked disdain for the especially funky pick-up or sheer anticipation of bus-surfing without repercussions. I guess the latter. Illiana just keeps saying how cool it is and running around and sitting in every available seat. I hope for success of this magnitude throughout. 

Meeting the Machine: Or Why We're Doing This

We bought a bus. And we're going to take a trip. Seems rather strange in today's economical landscape to forsake home and school (for a summer's time) and move steadily west and north, meandering towards nothing in particular and with no stated goal. In a sort of bellicose dualism, the whole notion seems simultaneously romantic and whimsical, either a lengthy diversion of self-indulgence or a mindless submission to whatever happens along the way; however, I hope to get beyond this.  

Also, I apparently structure blogs the same way as a damn seminar paper. 

While somewhat unnecessary, I still tend to formulate reasons for action, and a grand funky bus adventure is not exempt. Here, in providing myself framework for the trip it would be fiercely tempting to generate an analogy using motivational-poster images of highways and sunsets, replete with a tawdry slogan, "life-is-a-journey" or some such shit scrawled across the landscape.

Instead, I can only offer some thoughts on what I hope to encounter - People. Whether it's close friends and new bus members or strangers in a small town, the fabric of the trip exists not in the attractions or the destination, but in engaging those around you. Humanity diverse, eccentric, normal, conjoined, intertwined, distinct, pulsing, moving, existing together in the same place and of the same substance. 

Is this lofty and unrealized? Most likely. However, there does exist a need to be constantly reminded that the world is bigger than you. Much bigger.

But enough elementary philosophical rambling. 

The important news is that our apartment lease is up in two days, and since Jaime works in San Marcos and sleeps on our couch, three people will be bus-bound by Thursday. In the near future, more pictures and posts will appear as we start to make it livable. And maybe stories about previous funky bus adventures (if anyone shows interest).