the bus
In the summer of 1969, I had an old beat-up VW microbus that was used to transport kids at the day camp where I was the waterfront director. It was a classic blue with the white top (sort of an old, off white). The bus came as part of the job and I was thrilled to have it. I was nineteen years old, I knew everything there was to know about life (and then some) and, now, I had wheels.
Towards the end of that momentous summer, several of the staff people were to go on vacation before starting back to work in the real world. Two guys were going to hike into the Arctic Circle. Two of us were headed for the Florida Keys. One guy was on his way to California and two others were headed off to explore the Mayan Ruins in Mexico. We all coordinated our departures so that we could all get to the airport in Boston at approximately the same time.
It was decided that, since everyone was going to so many diverse adventures, we had to do something spectacular so that the people who were just going home didn’t feel so left out. We gave the kids paintbrushes and what I thought was poster (water-based) paint and set them loose on the VW. The van was covered with pictures of igloos and palm trees, pictures of Mayan Pyramids and Aztec Gods, flowers and slogans. Yes someone of these kids even painted a bird-track on the front of the bus. That was what the “Hawks” of the day called the peace sign.
My goodness!! What a work of art it was. What a good time was had. These kids were incredible and the bus was truly a remarkable sight. I got pulled over by the “Staties” a few times, only for them to be disappointed at not finding any pot in the bus! It was still, after all, the primary transportation to and from the day camp for several of the kids. It certainly was an eye-stopper.
What happened was this. Some of us decided to take in a concert one weekend. It was billed as a weekend of peace, love, happiness and good music. It was in the country. It only cost five bucks to get in. What better way to end the summer before we all went our separate ways. So, we went to Woodstock!! I never returned from Woodstock, but that is a whole different story for another time. It actually took me just over three years to get back... And the bus?? The bus went home without me. I was to see it again several years later and if one looked really closely, one could still see the faintest shadows of that magic paint-job.
Towards the end of that momentous summer, several of the staff people were to go on vacation before starting back to work in the real world. Two guys were going to hike into the Arctic Circle. Two of us were headed for the Florida Keys. One guy was on his way to California and two others were headed off to explore the Mayan Ruins in Mexico. We all coordinated our departures so that we could all get to the airport in Boston at approximately the same time.
It was decided that, since everyone was going to so many diverse adventures, we had to do something spectacular so that the people who were just going home didn’t feel so left out. We gave the kids paintbrushes and what I thought was poster (water-based) paint and set them loose on the VW. The van was covered with pictures of igloos and palm trees, pictures of Mayan Pyramids and Aztec Gods, flowers and slogans. Yes someone of these kids even painted a bird-track on the front of the bus. That was what the “Hawks” of the day called the peace sign.
My goodness!! What a work of art it was. What a good time was had. These kids were incredible and the bus was truly a remarkable sight. I got pulled over by the “Staties” a few times, only for them to be disappointed at not finding any pot in the bus! It was still, after all, the primary transportation to and from the day camp for several of the kids. It certainly was an eye-stopper.
What happened was this. Some of us decided to take in a concert one weekend. It was billed as a weekend of peace, love, happiness and good music. It was in the country. It only cost five bucks to get in. What better way to end the summer before we all went our separate ways. So, we went to Woodstock!! I never returned from Woodstock, but that is a whole different story for another time. It actually took me just over three years to get back... And the bus?? The bus went home without me. I was to see it again several years later and if one looked really closely, one could still see the faintest shadows of that magic paint-job.
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