The view from our airplane window was spectacular as we glided over Los Angeles toward the airport.  Dusk was nearly upon us and the city lights were illuminated.  The scene shimmered in a pale green glow, dotted throughout by jewels of light for as far as I could see in any direction.  I was sorry to land so soon. 

After a long trek through the terminal, we emerged at the ground transportation area where we found a vehicle from our hotel waiting for us.  I was not so impressed that there was a vehicle as I was by the vehicle itself.  It looked like a miniature bus, no bigger than other cars except in height.  I thought it was a really sharp looking little bus, two-tone in color, tomato red with rich cream finish to the roof and around the windows.  There were three rows of seats with access through doors on the right side.  The features that made the little bus most appealing were its sunroof and four little oblong windows on each side above the doors, through which overhead sights such as high buildings could be seen.  The ride to the hotel wasn’t bad either. 

We completed our business in Los Angeles in a couple of days, and I returned home to drive my old mostly worn out car.  I couldn’t forget the little bus.  I had fallen in love with it; the only time such a thing ever happened to me. This reminds me of an observation of a friend, noting how long I drove my cars, who said, “Jess, you never own a car. You marry it.” 

Ah, the little bus, how much better would my four rambunctious kids fit in it!  There was a Volkswagen dealer in town.  I had to pay him a visit.  Then I had to take Mary there.  She was not hard to convince once she saw the space inside.  I traded in my old car and drove home the 1959 VW bus.  The children were delighted. 

During the next several days, everyone wanted to go for trial rides.  Especially popular on sunny days was a ride through the park with the sunroof open exposing the sky and the trees overhead.  Mary had always waved at almost everybody as she drove the car.  The driver of the VW bus sat high, so as to be able to see over most other traffic. Driving the little bus enhanced her waves because she could be seen much better and so gain the response that she sought. 

At that time of life, the family went on weekend camping trips to state parks, and even two-week vacations, camping along the way.  The VW bus proved to be a splendid choice for the purpose.  There was room for camp gear and for all the passengers.  The kids always enjoyed exploring the parks with the sunroof open.  The supreme test of the vehicle came when we packed it up for a four-week tour of the Rocky Mountain area, where we visited half a dozen national parks.  Loaded with two tents, bedding, other camp gear, clothes and some food, we headed out early one morning with the best wishes of our neighbors waving goodbye.  We made it, too, albeit after a day’s delay to replace the engine valve seats.

Yet, there was a downside to owning a little bus.  When someone planned an outing for a group of youngsters, people looked in my direction.  Why not?  I could haul twice as many as most.  The other downside I care to mention is its puny thirty-five horsepower engine.  While its performance was quite adequate on level ground, we crawled turtle-like uphill.  We always made it to the top, but some of the children seemed to be embarrassed at our pace.  Oh well, we could keep up with the traffic going down the other side. 

My love affair with my little bus lasted until we no longer needed the extra room because the kids were leaving home.  It served us well for years, but now it was beginning to show its age.  Perhaps it was like a marriage; till death do us part, almost.