It was another triple digit day today. Last year a fuss was made about the eleventh year (in the 2nd millenium), eleventh month and the eleventh day. Not to mention eleventh hour and eleventh minute.

A similar occurrence happened today to the tune of twelve. 2012-12-12, 12:12. I missed it at twelve past midnight, but I was able to document it a shade past noon.

Foggy sunrise

This morning I had to drive from Vancouver to Langley. I was not looking forward to the drive as there had been a major traffic accident southbound at the north end of the Alex Fraser bridge, my intended route. I briefly considered taking Highway 1 instead over the new Port Mann bridge, but it probably would have taken longer.

Ultimately it proved to be a good decision to stick to #10 Highway into Surrey as I snapped this interesting photo of the sun rising above a fog bank. If it wasn't for the orange hue, you might think it was a moon rise. It's not often you can safely look at the sun. The fog was an ideal filter.

How He Does It

I think the sub-title should be revised to something such as, "Lance's extraordinary descent from multiple unprecedented wins in his chosen sport to the 25 cent bin at the Sally Ann Thrift Shop".

Better hurry; I saw only one copy in the basket.

Centenary

Do you you know anyone that’s celebrated their centenary? It’s pretty rare, but becoming ever more common, to celebrate one’s 100^th year on this fair planet.

We attended such an event a couple of weeks ago. My Aunt’s mother turned 100. She’s a feisty German widow that’s lived with my Uncle and Aunt for about the last 45 years. When I was a kid we’d go there for family events and she’d always make a fuss about our arrival. My dad’s side of the family is German, and unfortunately I’m the only one of my cousins that never learned to speak the language. So again unfortunately, I could never really communicate with “Oma”. (She’s not technically my blood-related grandmother (Oma), but that’s how she’s affectionately known.) Nonetheless she always greeted me warmly with something like, “Oh there’s David!”

 At the birthday party I had but one regret; Oma didn’t recognize me at first. I suppose one isn’t always cognizant of the fact that one’s own appearance changes over time. When I greeted Oma and presented her with flowers I wasn’t expecting that she wouldn’t recognize me. My Aunt actually didn’t even recognize me at first either. I feel rather guilty about that. I fear I’ve become a bit of the black sheep in the family. My wife and I live in Vancouver and almost all the rest of my Dad’s side of the family live in Langley. That’s really no excuse, I know; it’s only at most an hour away. But it seems to have made a difference the last 12 years or so. That has to be my New Year’s Resolution; not to be such a stranger. Family ties are important.

After some momentary confusion, my Aunt did indeed recognize me and all was well. She had to go to Oma’s side and speak loudly (she’s rather deaf) to tell her who I was. Then that familiar smile appeared and she said, “Oh, David!” She’s still very much alert and remained the centre of attention for the rest of the evening.

I have to say; the Germans really know how to throw a party! The celebration was held in a Langley restaurant and we had a whole side room to ourselves. Shauna and I sat in the middle of a table surrounded by several Aunts and my cousin and his wife. We got caught up on family news.

After the wonderful dinner is when the party really started. Upon arrival there had been a roving accordion player providing background ambiance. What could be more stereotypical than accordion music at a German gathering? It brought back memories of the parties my relatives would throw at special occasions. In those days everyone had those huge entertainment units that really were pieces of furniture. You’d open the lid, place a stack of LPs on the spindle and get hours of music, provided none of the records skipped.

However, the real surprise came after the plates had been cleared. Our musician went over to Oma’s side and serenaded her with several selections from 1920’s German operettas. You’d never know it from looking at his slender frame, but this guy could really belt out the high notes! Not being a real opera fan, I’ve never experienced this genre of music live. It’s pretty impressive, especially in such a small room! With some of the powerfully sustained high notes, I was half-expecting a wine glass or two to shatter. I caught several people dabbing a tissue to their eye. I’m kind of at a loss for words. It was a very impressive musical performance. Oma was mouthing the words to several of the songs.

As I was growing up, typically at family shindigs, the evening meal would be followed by dessert. I reminisced with one of my Aunts earlier in the evening that I fondly remembered family gatherings when we were kids at her place. We’d always be outside running around the farm. When we’d come in again after dinner the lid of the full-size freezer by the back door would be covered with various cakes. I’d end up sampling a small piece of each of them. Far be it from me to insult any of the bakers!

There were special guests in attendance from Germany having flown in especially for this event. One of them recited a story/ poem in German, so I really couldn’t follow it. The gist of it, I think, was a description of the perfect gift for the centenarian. It was an everyday product, available in a multitude of different colours and textures, and very practical. I wish I could have understood it as it was being read as several people found it amusing. At the end a replica of a cake was presented, constructed from rolls of toilet paper, with a can of beer hidden in the middle! We’re lucky Oma has a sense of humour.

The real cake was much more palatable. It was a strawberry shortcake. Very good indeed. Although if I’d been asked to bet on what kind of cake would be served, I’d have said Black Forest.

Sign of an impending Volkswag-alypse.

The title is intended to be verbalized ominously with a deep-toned German accent; "Volks-vog-alypse". There; that's better.

I fear the air-cooled VW scene is turning into a numbers game. I present before you two potential VW restoration projects, the only real difference between them being age; about 10 years. Both are Volkswagen mid-model vans (one a Kombi, the other a 15-window). The Kombi model was offered to span the gap between slab-sided panel vans and multi-window deluxe versions suitable for family transportation. They were generally used for commercial purposes or often fitted with custom camper kits. Thus they were plentiful.

Granted, older models are always more rare, as production numbers typically rise as the model years roll by. However, I had one of those slack-jawed-yokel moments the other day as I perused the VW classifieds on a popular air-cooled VW website. Admittedly, I have to accept the fact that prices for VW microbuses have skyrocketed in recent years (probably about the past decade) but stratospheric prices are generally reserved for mechanically sound, presentable specimens.

The first one I came across, a ’63, was definitely a fixer-upper of a high magnitude. From the photos posted in the ad, it looked like something that as as kids, way-back-when, we would have come across in a field being used as rifle target practice. This particular model was a step up from a Kombi, being what’s called a “15-window”. That means it’s a bit of a special edition transition between a Kombi and a Deluxe. Deluxe Microbuses were known for their roof windows. The early models had, all told, 23 windows. The later models had their rear curved windows deleted when the rear hatch got enlarged, leaving them with merely 21. The 15-window was really a deluxe bus minus the roof windows and sunroof. Otherwise perhaps known as a “Kombi with korner glass”. In other words, these days it’s a fairly desirable find, even if requiring full restoration. The one I saw advertised was listed for $3,750. Actually quite a bargain (A bargoon at twice the price!).

1963 15-window Microbus

The second bus is the one that made me gasp. Its big claim to fame is that it’s a barndoor. Doncha love collectabilia lingo? A barndoor microbus is a pre-mid-1955 model with a hinged engine cover twice the size of the model years immediately following. I first became aware of this change about 20 years ago when I owned a late ’55 that had the smaller lid. The bus in this ad is a ’52, thus gaining itself big bonus points simply for its barndoor status. But wait; there’s more!

This bus is mostly complete. It’s always better to have all the hard-to-find bits included with the purchase of a restoration project than not, as the little odds ‘n ends could cause no small amount of frustration to locate, much less afford. So that’s a check in the plus column.

However (and I can’t over-emphasize this enough), the engine is missing, and the seller admits that the bottom 6 inches of sheetmetal requires replacement around the truck’s perimeter!

1952 Kombi.

At this point I’m thinking the rarity may balance out the mechanical and metal work costs. But not so fast, Bargain-hunter Bob. Apparently, according to the present owner, this one’s a jewel in the rough, despite being only a Kombi.

I’ve been watching vintage air-cooled VW pricing quite closely the last couple of years. I’ve noticed that the VW buses and Porsche 356s have shot up in value the most, relative to their brethren. High prices for Porsches I can perhaps understand since they’ve always been priced at a premium relative to Volkswagen. It’s like what Cadillac is to Chevrolet.

But what about the ascendance of Microbuses versus Beetles? I’d like to buy a mid-50s Beetle one of these days, and so far my dream is still within reach. There have been, and still are, several mechanically sound, very presentable, hot-rodded and affordable Beetles for sale recently. Not so for Microbuses. Twenty grand is about the lowest price you’ll find for a Kombi driver. Twenty-five to thirty grand is common.

Which brings me back to this ’52 Kombi. When I saw the price at the bottom of the ad I thought it must be due to a thick typing finger adding a zero. Even if this van had been completely finished, in drive-off-the-lot condition I would have thought it expensive. Here's another way to look at it; given the choice, would you rather buy a new Porsche Boxster or a vintage VW van without an engine, requiring about (minimum) $10,000 in sheetmetal repair, plus full interior upholstery restoration? I still can’t quite wrap my head around it.

Clock’s ticking…gotta make up your mind…what’s it gonna be?

That’s what I thought. We’ll continue on the path of paying down the house mortgage.

But to those that are still reading, I’ll let you know that being the proud new owner of this piece of Volkswagen history will set you back $65,000. Yes, you read that right; sixty-five thousand dollars. If we were talking about a’52 Fargo I bet you'd close the deal by lopping off two zeros.

Prince Albert Street renovation

It's coming up to the 2-year anniversary of an on-going neighbourhood restoration project, so I thought I'd show an update photo as compared to the "before" shot.

I chronicled this house a couple of years ago becausae it was actually written up in The Courier as an eye-sore by at least one neighbour. Fairly quickly after that article was published, the property changed hands and an extensive renovation was undertaken.

I'm not sure if the new owners intended for it to take this long, but at least it's made great strides towards completion. One would never know by its current appearance that it was once on the verge of literally collapsing, as can be seen by the diagonal structural beams supporting the second story.

Approximately 2009.

October 17, 2012.

Peak To Peak

This past summer my wife’s parents took a day trip to Whistler while there were staying with us. Being from the flat landscape of Winnipeg they were intrigued to traverse between two mountain peaks, about one kilometer above the valley floor at mid span. Ingeniously enough this gondola ride is known as Peak-To-Peak. (That always reminds me of the contest that was held some years ago to name the No. 2 Road bridge in Richmond. It’s now officially named “The No. 2 Road Bridge”.)

My wife then found an online deal to get us two-for-one tickets for the same attraction. The hitch was that we had to use the tickets before the end of September, and September is always really busy for Shauna setting up a new school year.

We’d been to Whistler for the Canada Day weekend, but the weather had been more suited to Thanksgiving. We really wanted to experience Whistler, and especially Pear-To-Peak in the glorious sunshine this region experienced from mid-summer into early Fall.

More Olympic rings at the top.

The view upon our descent to mid-span.

The valley floor is about 1000m below us right here!

The ascent up Blackcomb from mid-span.