Rather a long post from me today.
The youngest of six children, I was very close to my late Father, ‘Robert’. I was always the ‘Daddy’s girl’.
Here is a picture of my Dad as a young man:
After leaving the RAF, my Dad became an international driver. He drove 18 wheeler tankers all over the world, mainly in the Middle East. I found his tales from abroad spell binding and hung on every word.
For an ‘older Dad’ (he and Mum had me in their 40’s although people thought Dad was older as he went grey in his 20's!) he was very ‘with it’ and ‘liberal’. He was a quiet, wise man and was always there to offer me support, advice and a telling off if my behaviour went off track. He’d seen so much in life that nothing naughty I did would phase him, I’d try my best but I could never so much as make him raise an eyebrow, even in my teens. He was so calm!
This is my Dad with me when I was little; check out that retro purple sofa!
After having a large family, international driving became too impractical for him and he sought a job closer to home. He ended up being a bus driver. Never liking to be called ‘Robert’ but preferring ‘Bob’ and being very popular with friends and customers, he was nicknamed ‘Bob the Bus’.
Very sadly, for my Dad and the rest of our family, my Mum lost her battle with Cancer in the New Year of 2002 aged 66; she died long before my marriage and my first baby. During these times when a girl needs her Mum, I became even closer to my Dad. “I’m so sorry I’m not a good substitute for your Mum” he’d often say, but he was brilliant! Watching him feed my son his first yoghurt was a particular occasion that sticks in my mind! The little things, eh.
Tragedy struck again for our family during Christmastime 2007, after surviving Cancer himself years before, my Dad died suddenly of heart failure aged 73.
To be honest I’ve been a bit lost ever since!
I sometimes wonder if our families health problems and the loss of my parents while I was still young (my Mum when I was 25 and my Dad when I was 31) is life’s way of giving me some hard knocks to keep me humble? As I’ve been so lucky in every other aspect of my life (love, friendship, education, lifestyle, work etc).
Here is a picture of my Dad reading to my son the summer before he died:
When Dad was alive I’d tell him of my dreams to own a ‘bigger vehicle’, preferably some sort of Campervan. “I want a VW, Dad” I’d say. He'd reply "One day you'll get one, Lucy. One should always have a dream to chase". I believed him.
I even talked of going bigger one day and getting my HGV licence to follow in his footsteps, a notion my husband finds highly amusing!
When Dad died, he left my siblings and I a sum of money, not a massive amount but the amount I would have needed to buy my beloved van. With so much needing to be done to our house, people thought we were mad to spend my inheritance on a whim but to me it was the perfect thing to honour my Father’s memory.
So, against everyone’s advice, my husband and I went for it and looked for the perfect Campervan for us and it had to be a VW.
As a family, a 2 or 3 berth 1960’s or 1970’s VW was too small and would be an expensive ornament rather than a practical Campervan. So, we went for the 1980’s 4 berth conversion.
A Classic ‘1986 VW Westfalia Joker’ to be precise. He's a left hand drive as we imported him in from Germany. As VW Campervans are often referred to as buses, we named him 'Bob the Bus' after my Dad and I couldn’t resist having a name sticker made up for him in tribute:
Owning such a machine is a labour of love! It can be very expensive keeping him in tip top condition but I feel anyone who runs old vehicles is helping to keep history alive.
He’s taken us on many trips to the beach and to music festivals and proved brilliant for collecting the Christmas Tree last year, a tradition we will carry on.
Our son loves him and I know that one day we will pass him down.
My Dad would have LOVED this vehicle. It sounds strange but I feel closer to my Dad while I’m in it! When I get lost I can hear his reassuring voice say “Don’t panic, Love; all roads lead home”. And when we struggle with hills, difficult weather and roads while we’re on a road trip, we always get there in the end and I feel like my Dad’s travelling spirit is helping us along!
I miss you, Dad. Long live Bob the Bus and all the memories you evoke in me!
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