Mendocino

Click.

That's the only sound Rusty made when I turned the key. Over and over.

My battery seemed ok. My headlights worked fine. I have two separate batteries and both had the same results. I asked another guy in the lot if he could give me a jump start, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't work.

It didn't.

My mom sent me a book called How to Keep Your Volkswagen Alive right after I told her I bought Rusty. The book has very easy to read instructions and cartoon-like pictures to help troubleshoot problems. So I whipped it out.

I tried to locate the starter and solenoid under the car and follow the instructions. But it seemed like maybe the starter was just dead.

The jump start guy suggested I walk up the hill just a block to the Chevron station, where there was a mechanic. I didn't see any way I could get Rusty there without towing. I wasn't in a place where I could try a push start. It was starting to get later in the afternoon, and I figured I had better get some repair plans going if I am to even make it out of town by the following day.

I called AAA. The week before I left town, I purchased their Premier package which provides long distance towing. I figured there was a decent chance I'd need it sometime during this trip. I figured I'd likely have to spend a day or two in a town I didn't intend while waiting for a part. I just didn't expect it to be on day two.

He towed me the 1/4 mile up the hill to Schlafers Automotive in Mendocino where Robert the mechanic told me he could order a starter in from Fort Bragg and have me on the road by the same time the next day.

I told him Rusty is my home, and he immediately offered to let me stay in his driveway overnight. He even let me run an extension cord to his office so I didn't have to run on battery power.

I pulled my bike off the rack and proceeded to survey the town. I was pleased to note that my new home was only a block from the local eats and drinks.

Mendocino, formerly known as Big River, is an exceptionally charming little town full of adorable little old seaside homes. It was smaller than I expected, maybe only six square blocks or so. The main old town area seems mostly set up for tourists. Lots of shops and inns. But it's most striking feature is it's adjoining headlands - A grassy prairie ending at sandstone cliffs surrounded by stone islands, some covered with white birds.

Dinner in town was a tough one. Almost every restaurant is so "charming" that its average entree is around $25. Oh come on. I managed to sniff out Patterson's Pub, a regular neighborhood bar that served decent bar food. Some grey haired locals were strumming and singing some old hippy standards. I think I heard some Grateful Dead and some Beatles.

I met some Aussies that were also on a road trip from San Francisco to Seattle and some ladies on a coastal getaway from Chico. Nothing like a pub to drum up some company. It was a nice evening, but I couldn't help but hope I'd be able to leave town the following day.

The next morning, Robert said he was ready to put in my starter. I reminded him that I wasn't certain why Rusty wouldn't start. He thought I was a VW "head" that already knew what I needed, when really I was just speculating. After doing some diagnostics, it came to light that I actually just had a bad wire connection to the starter. I didn't need to wait for the part after all. He said he'd fix the connection, and within an hour I was a free man once more.

I was in Fort Bragg in no time and picked up a few more supplies. By this time it was late afternoon but I really wanted to make up some ground. I at least wanted to reach yesterday's destination of Rockport. Rockport is the last town on the coast before Highway 1 goes inland for awhile. I wound my way up and down the narrow sea side highway. I saw Westport which I knew was close to Rockport, but before I knew it, I was in a lovely redwood forest. I kept thinking I'd get back to the coast, but after awhile I accepted the fact that I must have past right by Rockport.

I kept driving. I decided to try and make it to Eureka before sundown. It was a little tough driving straight through Humboldt Redwoods State Park. It looked like I nice place to explore sometime, just not today.

I made it to Eureka and stopped for some gas before finding a place to sleep. I pumped the gas, went to start the car, and guess what I heard.

Click.

Oh no. Not again. Big sigh.

I remembered where Robert was lying under the car when he found the problem. I went into the van and got a head lamp and stuck my head under. I immediately saw a blue wire hanging loose. I thought that looked like a likely culprit, but the engine was too hot to crawl close enough and grab onto it.

I clued in the gas station security guard and cashier to my plight. They were very understanding, told me not to worry about blocking the gas pump, and offered me some free coffee.

I decided to try another angle and within a couple of minutes, I managed to reconnect the wire. Suddenly I felt very foolish for paying a mechanic to do that for me before. I also felt annoyed that he didn't really fix it very well while charging me a tidy sum. If only I had taken a few extra minutes with mom's book, I might have fixed it myself in the first place.

The gas station offered to let me stay on their lot for the night. It wasn't exactly the romantic beach front location I had envisioned, but by this time it was late night, and I didn't have anywhere else to go.

How about over here by the propane tank?