Mr Strawberry

Cruisin' on a dark desert highway... (photo by slworking2)

The wonderful Sun Magazine has a section called "Reader's Write" in which readers can have a short piece published on a particular theme announced in earlier issues. I'd like to write on those themes occasionally right here. 

 by d00glas reeser, Feb 2022

The Bus.

It was a dark, clear night, and we were speeding down a long straight two lane road in the desert outside of Tucson, Arizona. Music blaring, barely drowning out the little VW engine straining in the back, it felt like we were cruising through space with nothing but the vast expanse of the darkness of the night sky and desert. 

I had that bus after the Hippies were a thing, and well before "van life" was thought of. At just about 30 years old, Mr Strawberry had certainly seen its better days. I had rebuilt or replaced the motor 4 or 5 times in the last few years alone, there was a good amount of rust, and the steering column had been repaired in a way that only allowed really wide turns when trying go right. But I kept that bus moving, and it brought me from Philadelphia out to the west coast and back many times and over many routes. We saw most of the country together. 

And that night in the desert was one moment in time I don't think I'll forget. I'm no longer sure where we were going or where we were coming from. Heading out to camp in the desert probably. Or maybe the other way, on our way back to town. I know there were two of us - my friend Justin also recalls that night with ease - but maybe a third friend too. Four of us? It's possible. 

And we were cruising. Smiles big, grooving to the music, watching the night pass by. Then, out of nowhere, what I think must have been an old railway crossing, and what I know was a roughly 5 foot hump in the road. The headlights on Mr Strawberry were pretty dim, and by the time I saw the hump, there wasn't much I could do. 

I gripped the wheel and got my foot off the gas, but that's about it. I'm pretty sure I let out a quick string of profanity. I think I heard Justin sort of scream. And we hit the hump. Fast and hard. And that old bus launched into the air. We were in an old air born VW bus. Flying through the night sky.

Time slowed to a crawl in that surreal way in which a split second feels suspended in time. Everything in the bus hit the roof. Including us. Our heads hit hard. The music stopped. Rocks, sticks, plants, souvenirs, food, shoes, clothes, camping gear, cds - all flying around us. 

I held the wheel firm. And Mr Strawberry was flying through the desert air. A moment in time.

And then we landed. Hard. More chaos, but on four wheels this time. Somehow I settled the bus, and we were once again cruising down that desert highway. We looked at each other in stunned disbelief, slightly dazed from the jump. A moment passed, the music came back on, drowning out that whining motor, and we were cruising through that dark desert night in our 1969 VW spaceship, Mr Strawberry....