Talking Story with Arlo: rv stories

Talking Story with Arlo

Dune Buggy Hitchin a Ride

By Arlo Agogo

Hey there, fellow wanderers and armchair adventurers—grab a cup of something strong (or weak, no judgments here at 70), because I'm about to spin you a yarn that's equal parts road dust, diesel purr, and pure, unadulterated freedom.

Picture this: me, Arlo, freshly minted 70-year-old beatnik, firing up the ol' 40-foot Fleetwood Providence RV like I am 21 all over again. Free to Roam, my choices.

Dune Buggy hitched.

Tires? Checked and shiny.

Engine? Tuned so sweet it hums like a contented cat.

Gas tank? Full to the brim, baby.

Everything works—miracles do happen—and I'm itching to hit the blacktop harder than a VW bus at a Grateful Dead show.

Towed behind me, like a loyal sidekick who's seen more deserts than most humans have seen sunrises, rides my 1968 VW dune buggy. Her name is "Daisy". Motor rebuilt, fresh service, tires that grip sand like a hippie grips a cause.

This little fiberglass beast is ready to tear up the plains around Lake Powell, leaving rooster tails of joy in its wake.

The destination?

Some glorious Lake Powell campground—think Wahweap or Bullfrog or Antelope Point, where the red rock meets the blue water and the vibes are eternally chill. It's about 400 miles from my current location Fort Mohave, Arizona, give or take a scenic detour or two.

Straight shot? Roughly 10 hours. But who does straight shots anymore? Not this cat. I'm chopping it into three glorious, meandering days. Moseying, baby. No rush, no schedule, just the open road and the sweet freedom of not giving a single hoot where I end up tonight.

Why the slow roll?

Because at 70, I've earned the right to wander without apology. Life's not a sprint to the grave; it's a leisurely stroll with frequent Starbucks pit stops for caffeine and accidental conversations with strangers who still believe in eye contact.

My old crew? Bless 'em, they're still great friends, but most have claimed permanent residency on their own worlds. Phone calls these days are short, sweet, and to the point: "You alive?" "Yup." "Good enough." That's fine by me. I get it. We're all just riding out the innings in our own way.

Me? I've traded the couch for a diesel pusher palace on wheels. It's got everything: comfy bed, shower that actually works, fridge full of good food, and that gentle rumble that says,

North in summer, south in winter—keep the temp at 72.

Wandering isn't aimless; it's purposeful purposelessness.

No one’s gonna come looking for me if I miss dinner. (Though the phone still rings from those ride-or-die pals checking in—love ya for it.)

The real magic kicks in when I link up with my internet tribe: the vintage Volkswagen crew. We're talking dune buggies, old buses, Things, anything air-cooled and over 55 years young. These folks get it.

We met online in some dusty forum years ago, swapping rebuild tips and bad jokes, and now we're converging on Lake Powell like a rolling museum of cool.

Picture it: a circle of chrome and fiberglass under the stars, stories flowing faster than the Colorado River used to. Someone's got a guitar, someone's got a cold brew, and everyone's got that same grin that says,

"Man, we're still doing this."Comedy in the chaos?

Oh yeah. Towing a dune buggy with a 40-footer is like hitching a skateboard to a freight train—hilarious physics at every stop sign. The buggy bounces like it's auditioning for a cartoon, and every time I hit a bump, I imagine it waving hello to the rearview mirror.

Gas mileage? Let's just say the Providence drinks diesel like a beatnik drinks poetry—deep and slow. But who cares? The joy is in the journey, not the MPG.

And here's the exaggerated truth: at 70, life's not winding down—it's upgrading to premium wanderlust. No more chasing deadlines or impressing bosses. Just me, the road, and a buggy that still turns heads like it's 1968.

Friends are living their own lives in their own way. Me? I'm out here swapping tales with VW weirdos, and proving that "old man" is just code for "experienced" adventurer with zero f's left to give.

Slow, silly, and supremely content.

Groove is in the Heart - Arlo

Sponsored by .....RV Life," "VW Adventures," "70+ Wanderlust," or "Dune Buggy Tales" w