So there we were, cell phones active between vehicles, hurtling into Reno on the freeway, Tim preparing to give me detailed directions to follow as we exited and headed to his uncle's on surface streets, when without warning the bus seemed to lose most, if not all, of its power. In terse red-alert mode I exclaimed "I just lost most engine power, possibly cylinder failure - unable to maintain speed, pulling out of traffic!"

Tim had just exited, and I was within site of the exit, but couldn't get to it coasting, so I sidled up to the guardrail in a convenient wide spot an eighth mile from the exit, hopped out into the roaring traffic to ascertain what the problem might be. I was at first thinking bad thoughts, I'll admit, but the engine was still running, so I let it continue to do so, and listened to it ... no nasty clanking sounds, and it was idling fine. I let Tim know what I was doing, and then opened up the hatch. Upon going to rev it up, which it did just fine, I found the cause of my power loss: The throttle cable had come loose! I could not tell how to swiftly rectify the situation, so I experimented a bit and determined that I could indeed drive it if I kept it floored - enough to get off the freeway and manuever on surface streets anyway. Later, at Tim's uncle's place, I found that the circlip responsible for keeping the cable end in the linkage was severely worn, and the return spring was holding the whole thing together. I'm not sure what I did to fix it, however I'm certain that it wasn't too pretty, but it worked.

Reno really is an uncomfortable place to be, unless you like cities and gambling, that is. I generally don't like cities, but I can appreciate the details that make some of them less ugly; however, Reno lacks these details. I'm not trying to be offensive, it is just the way I see it....at least in daylight. I'm sure there are treasures and wonders and all, but I have not yet seen anything to justify Reno's existence. After the sun falls however, this citadel of gambling and debauchery comes alive. The party begins every night, imbues the main drag with lights and magic, and then fades again each dawn, losing its glamour and revealing its dirty and mundane nature. From the experience of being there, getting lost in Atlantis, and eating all I could eat, which wasn't much, I only have a few photos and a video or two I mightput up.

We ate from the unbelievable buffet at the Atlantis Casino, then prepared for sleep. Tim wanted to stay in a casino, so went to The Peppermill, and I took Uncle back to his place where I ogled his old cameras, chatted for a bit, and then went to bed myself: In the alley of my choice. (I really do prefer sleeping in a bus to casinos and hotels and the like!).

Another day dawned, and with the knowledge that it was the last day of the trip, we set out on the great and terrible I-80 through the Sierra. Funny thing was that I was within an hour from my home as we passed Truckee, but would have to drive for another several hours to even get back to Tim's - almost to the Pacific, collect Bart, and head back to Sierra County. As it was, the route chosen for the day was the worst possible from the point of view of a sightseer. Interstate 80 has a tendency to show the worst of any state, and California is positively yucky seen from that evil road with the exception of a few scenic Sierra views, but they were hard to shoot while driving as the traffic seemed somewhat malevolent!



Our torturous route down through the upper Bay Area hills and highways had some wine country backroads mixed in for good measure and a bit of driving pleasure, and we eventually popped out onto Highway 101 near Petaluma. Being just before rush hour, which starts around 2:30 in this area, we hoped to slide past Santa Rosa without getting held up too badly, and in this we were mostly successful. The adventure came to an exhausting yet happy close in Healdsburg, California at 2:55 in the afternoon of the twenty-fifth of September, 2006. I had logged seventy-five hours and five minutes of driving since we left New York, for a total of 2989 miles ... just shy of 3000, it would seem, but with a several more miles driven later that day, as well as a trip down to Santa Rosa and back, I am happy to report the breaking of the three-thousand-mile barrier!

We unpacked the truck and unloaded the beetle, then went for coffee. A nice dinner at Tim's with his family was shared, and I spent one more night in a good, albeit temporary, orange friend. The following morning I escorted Tim in his return of the truck to Penske, and after returning him to his home, we parted ways amicably, and I took the Great Pumpkin back to where Bartholomew was awaiting my return, transferred my luggage, tools, and other stuff, made sure the bus was clean, and walked away from her forever, duty done. I left my notes from the trip as well as copious data on what was wrong with her, and what she might appreciate as far as maintenance and repair in the glove box, and returned to the world of split-window buses! (And boy, that is a wierd changeover!) Bart seemed a little put-out by the affair I had just had, but he soon returned to his perky old self, and I'll tell ya, when I got into the corners and the backroads, I forgot all my treacherous thoughts!



So this, my stalwart readers, is the end of the poorly-named but most excellent adventure "CANYCA". (California to New York to California) It's been somewhat of a challenge to get this all out, and I'm sure I missed mentioning something somewhere that might have actually made the report interesting, but thanks to all who have read it, and if you enjoyed it, I'm glad. This is the type of opportunity for unique experience that does not come along every day, and because of its rarity, I tried to do it honour by sharing it as best I could. As time permits, there may be a video clip or two that will be fun to watch ... some of the tunnels and desert shots came out pretty darn cool! Those will be linked to in the appropriate spots in the report as well as from the video page, so if you're a regular, you won't miss out. It may be a while though ....

I give my thanks and appreciation to Tim and his family for thinking of me, taking care of me, and trusting me with this responsibility. I hope that the Great Pumpkin serves them as well as she did me, and that the beetle will live to again grace the roadways with its presence and style. And if we brought any East Coast mice with us, well, let them be fruitful and multiply ...

It is with a fond sadness, yet great relief that I bequeath this report to "Things Past and Done With". Here are the last few pages of my bus log, and with that, I go on to the next project, whatever that may be!

Gene Cornelius
22-Dec-2006

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