Chapter 10
A Hint of Trouble Ahead
Traveling down Interstate 5 from Portland to Sacramento we continued to be blessed with warm shirt-sleeve weather. The rain had stopped. We were going to Sacramento to visit Ken Vardaman, Max’s ex- brother-in-law. Sally, of course, was skeptical about doing this without Max on board. But, on the phone, back in Boulder with Eloise, Max explained to us why we would really like meeting this guy: “I was in medical school at the U back in the early ‘80s. Reagan was President. Contra-gate was going on. Lisa, later my bride, was selling kisses with a sign, ‘Make Love, Not War,’ at a softball tournament. It was a benefit raising money for the Nicaraguans battling Reagan’s Contras. I got back in line for a second kiss, got her number; six months later we got married.
“Lisa grew up in California. She and her brother Ken were big-time anti-war activists in the ‘60s. Ken’s still big into that. Just a few years ago I had to bail him out again – protesting something I don’t remember. He seems to get busted with Hollywood celebs, so he’s well-connected.”
Ken was expecting us and had heard about our antics to date. He couldn’t stop exclaiming how excited he was to be in the company of agitators, 60s rebels, intent on stirring up trouble all over the land. Though some of us tried to downplay the agitators/stirring-up trouble part, Ken convinced us we needed to make the Land Yacht a primed-for-TV-spectacle, “Just add Rainbow Racing Stripes. This is not Montana. You guys will be welcome up and down the Coast, and the more trouble you stir-up the more popular you’ll be.”
Ken lived by himself in a small apartment but had lined up some friends to take in those not sleeping in the Land Yacht – which was in the shop, and not just for racing stripes. California, we were told, has electric charging stations every 50 miles. Sally, after being shown the numbers (she was a successful investment advisor after all), was convinced to lay out the bucks to have the Land Yacht retrofitted with a plug-in battery to save money on fuel costs.
Patty was one of those farmed out to a friend while the Land Yacht was getting its makeover. Patty was a locally (in Minnesota) famous movie producer. Patty liked western wear, flannel shirts, a sparkly belt, and cowboy boots. A short, amply-figured, dark-haired beauty, Patty claimed she got on the bus “because I’d rather live with five guys than one.” Truth be told, she was between movies and on a quest to find something or someone to become part of her life story. Patty was good at egging us on to do things we’d never do at home.
Patty stayed with a movie maker friend of Ken’s who convinced Patty she was in the midst of her next great film and should start videoing everything about the Land Yacht and its adventures for all the world to see:
“Not just the panoramic views, that’s a given on any road trip,” she told Patty, “but the chance encounters, a road trip where you get lost, get entangled in unplanned events. Movie-going Americans are starved for the next great road trip movie, a Thelma & Louise or Easy Rider – a time before Siri was giving directions. Too many zombies today only doing what they’re told to do. Think of your RV as seven weirdos doing whatever you want, getting along with everybody – or nobody, traveling across Georgia O’Keeffe’s weirdest landscapes.”
Skip was also farmed out to one of Ken’s friends, a guy named Gordy. At the time Skip had no idea how fateful Gordy would be to the Rumpkins’ future. On departing Sacramento, he didn’t even know Gordy’s last name. It wasn’t until we were on the East Coast, months later, that Skip told us that the guy he was staying with, Gordy, was once a fugitive from justice and had done serious time for being part of a revolutionary gang known as the SLA. Although Rocky was clued in early, Skip was correct in his assessment that any connection of the Land Yacht to the SLA might scare off some of us from any further “trouble-making.” Even Skip might have called the whole rest of the trip off – if he knew then how much the SLA, and Gordy, were going to become part of his future.
Instead, we motored on toward our unexpected confrontation with terrorism. Leaving Sacramento, Ken gave us the names of his Hollywood connections, and the videographer Patty had stayed with said she’d join us once we got to L.A., “Go get some good footage,” she said firmly.