This year’s National Microcar Show was in Golden Colorado, only about 500 miles from my house in New Mexico. At first I planned to put the Isetta onto the trailer and drive up I-25 and join the fun. I began to question this plan, and to consider actually driving the Isetta to the show. This is the story of that 1,000+ mile journey through the mountains.
As you may know, I have been preparing the Isetta for longer distances, and after replacing the clutch, the car passed the final shake-down: a 200 mile trip to Santa Fe and back. Oils were changed, new guibos were installed, a spare tire came from Coker; the car was ready.
Day 1 (Thursday):
The car was loaded with camping gear, a small cooler, a few tools, and an iPod boom-box. A small, vintage suitcase was mounted on the rack. I headed for the gas station at about 0700, and filled up before heading out of Corrales. The direct route to Santa Fe is on I-25, and I had already decided that I would not drive on the interstate. The only other route is to drive south through Albuquerque, then east through Tijeras Canyon, and north on route 14 along the east side of the Sandia mountains. This is the same route I took on my previous trip to Santa Fe, and the car behaved much as on the previous journey. Traffic was fairly heavy in Albuquerque, but dropped off at the city limits. As I approached Santa Fe, I opted for the “Relief Route”, which bypasses the chaotic traffic of urban Santa Fe. The relief route was built about 10 years ago so that trucks carrying nuclear waste from Los Alamos could be diverted around Santa Fe on their way to the WIPP storage site in southern New Mexico. Turning onto Route 285, I headed west to my appointment with a breakfast burrito at the Roadrunner Café in Pojoaque (say Po-wa-kee). The entire staff of the restaurant came out to see the car and the crazy guy who was on a road trip. Leaving the casinos of Pojoaque behind, I headed for Espanola, a town famed for its low riders. Outside of Espanola, the road turns north again, and almost all of the traffic disappeared. The Isetta was really in its element here: no traffic behind, rolling hills, and cruising at 45 MPH. This almost deserted road continued for over 100 miles to the Colorado state line. Just north of the Colorado line, there is the town of Antonito, home to the Cumbres & Toltec Narrow Gauge Railway (and little else). Another 30 miles on is Alamosa, a flat, dry, hot town that was built around the railroad and a crossroads. I decided to lay in some provisions, and the car drew a crowd at the supermarket. Every time I thought I was leaving, more onlookers showed up asking: “What kind of mileage does that thing get?” I finally escaped and continued north. About 50 miles north of Alamosa, I turned east on a dirt county road. I followed this road for 8 miles to the foothills on the east side of the valley, to a place called Valley View Hot Springs. This was my destination for the night.
Valley View offers a series of hot springs, a concreted pool, camping, and a network of trails that link the pools and ponds. It is mercifully undeveloped and left as natural as possible. I set up my camp and spent the rest of the evening sitting in each of the pools, enjoying a hot soak after a 300+ mile day in the Isetta. Valley View is one of the few hot springs that is still clothing optional. It is hard not to make friends when you drive an Isetta and are sitting naked in hot water.
Day 2:
This is the day that would be the big test. Could the Isetta really make it through the mountains? Route 285 has 5 mountain passes over 9,000 feet. I was back on the road by 0900, and headed north to Poncha Springs. Poncha pass, at 9100 feet came and went with little fanfare. The climb was gentle, and I was surprised when I got to the top. The descent down the other side seemed much greater than the climb. Poncha Springs brought minimal opportunities for a decent breakfast, so I fueled up and headed north to Buena Vista. Traffic was busier than I had hoped for, and I found myself holding up the other vehicles. I routinely pulled onto the shoulder to allow semis to pass, as they generally can’t accelerate fast enough to pass me. The folks in the big SUVs generally had to wait for a passing zone. If I held anyone up for more than 10 minutes, I would pull off and let them by. Most folks were pretty courteous, although I grew tired of having people honk at me as they passed. A wave is just as good. I have seen the business end of 1,000 cell phone cameras. I found a latte and a muffin for breakfast in Buena Vista, and headed out again to meet the highest pass of the day: Kenosha, at over 10,000 feet. The car soldiered on up the pass, dropping into 3rd about half way up, and finally into second for the last couple hundred feet of the climb. I crested the pass at about 23 MPH, with no traffic behind me. Climbing lanes are my new best friend. The car raced down the steep grades, and I finally shifted into neutral. I think I was able to go faster in neutral than I could in 4th gear, as I think the engine limited my speed to about 55. I briefly hit 60 in neutral: fast enough! The brakes were fine and showed no signs of fading or overheating. I continued along 285, checking off one pass after another. As I crossed a high plain on my way into Fairplay, the car struggled to hit 40 MPH, due to the 9700 foot altitude. For the last 75 miles or so, traffic was quite heavy. I learned not to pull off on an uphill run, as it was difficult to get back onto the road and up to speed. I found the best place to pull over was at the top of a hill, so I could accelerate quickly when getting back on the road. The traffic coming toward me was insane, almost bumper to bumper, with folks heading from the metro Denver area out into the mountains for the weekend. I figured I’d see all the same folks going the other way on Sunday. Fortunately, most of this leg was downhill. Finally, at about 3:30, I arrived in Golden and found the hotel, and started finding friends who had come for the show.
Day 3 (the show):
I was up early and headed up to Heritage Square, where the show was held. Lots of cars came on trailers, so I was feeling a bit chuffed with my little car which had survived a 511 mile journey through the mountains. Heritage Square is part amusement park, part old-west town, part carnival. Cars were set up on the streets of the old west town, and there were lots of folks there who didn’t know there was a microcar show. (They were just lucky, I’d say...) Mark Sebolt brought the Isetta that he has been restoring- in pieces. His intent was for a bunch of Isetta folks to build the car pretty much from scratch during the show, while people watched. The engine and transmission were in one piece, but the rest of the car was completely disassembled. By the end of the day, the car was complete except for having the choke and parking brake cables hooked up. Mark won an award that evening for “Best Spectacle”, which consisted of a pile of trophy pieces for him to put together during dessert. I was pleasantly surprised NOT to win the long-distance award; that went to a very nice couple who drove a Citroen 2CV from St. Paul! The show featured bunches of Isettas, Citroens, a beautiful 1959 Auto Union, a well-restored Bantam, a KR200 (which is for sale), and much more. I’ll try to post photos soon. All in all, a very enjoyable show.
Day 4:
I slept in, and discovered that a lot of folks were gone by 0900. I hung out with Mark for a bit, and helped Lloyd with an alternator problem on his Renault. By 10:30, the crowd had really thinned out, and it was already in the 90s; it was going to be another hot day. I decided that I should get on the road myself. I knew that I would have a long slog of a climb from Golden to the top pf Kenosha pass, and thought I should get under way. The map I had of Colorado didn’t show many of the minor roads, and the Denver map didn’t extend past the city limits. I had a GPS, but it only wanted to put me onto the interstate. I thought I had a clear path to Evergreen, then down to Conifer, which is back on 285. The road west out of Golden climbed and climbed, then abruptly ended at a ramp to I-70. I stopped and asked some of the locals what I should do. I had 2 choices: either get onto I-70 for 2 miles, or give up the 2,000 feet I had just climbed and return to Golden. I took a deep breath and powered down the ramp to I-70. I was relieved to find that the big trucks and campers that shared the right lane were not going any faster than I was, and before I knew it, I was off the interstate headed for Evergreen. I started to hit some light showers on this stretch, but nothing heavy. Traffic was thicker than I had hoped for, but most of the other cars seemed to want to pass me very slowly so they could get a good look and a photo. Before long, I was back on 285, where the real climbing began. As anticipated, the traffic headed back to Denver was pretty heavy, so I was pulling over frequently to let the bigger vehicles get by me. After what seemed like endless climbing, and a lot of time on the shoulder, I finally reached Fairplay, where I took on fuel and had a very late lunch. Leaving Fairplay, the traffic seemed to thin out, but the heavens opened and the rains came in sheets. The car behaved beautifully under these adverse conditions, with no hint of hydroplaning or skittishness. A few drops came in around the front sunroof seal (which is original), but I stayed dry inside. Eventually, I pulled into Johnson Village, and headed north 2 miles into Buena Vista. I wasn’t really relishing the idea of camping in a downpour, so I took a room in a local hotel. As soon as I had booked the room, the sun came out, and I didn’t see another drop of rain. I was feeling a bit retro, so I looked for a place that was locally owned, and was somewhat please to find one that had not been redecorated since the Isetta was new. Buena Vista is filled with friendly folks, and I spent a while singing the Isetta’s praises to admiring crowds at the supermarket, the beer store, the ice cream place, and the coffee & bakery where I had breakfast the next morning.
Day 5:
I was up and out at a decent hour, but languished over breakfast. I finally got on the road around 1100. Traffic was fairly thick, but I wasn’t feeling rushed, so I let the other cars pass frequently. As I climbed back up Poncha pass, I decided that it was definitely a much bigger climb heading south. By the time I got to the top, I was in 2nd gear, and the engine had developed a sporadic miss, so I stopped at the summit and changed the plug and ran a business card between the points. The car ran better after that, but I also wasn’t really climbing hard after that, so I’m not really sure if I fixed anything. The car motored on, over the state line and across northern New Mexico. About 30 miles north of Espanola, I made a quick pit stop on the side of the deserted highway, at the crest of a hill. When I got back in and turned the key, all I heard was a click. “Hmmm.... dynastarter problem”, I thought. I pushed (pulled, actually) the car about 10 feet, and roll started it as it started down the hill. Another 10 miles on, I stopped at Ojo Caliente to camp for the night. Ojo is another hot springs, and it is very different from Valley View. It is downright swanky, and filled with well heeled guests from Santa Fe. Mercifully, clothing is required. (The clientele was decidedly less attractive than Valley View’s.) I have never paid $35 to camp before. Ojo has nice facilities, but to me, it is somewhat over developed. I am not particularly interested in herbal wraps or hot rocks or getting my aura cleansed, so I might be a bit jaded. I did, however, enjoy soaking in the hot springs. When you drive an Isetta, it is easy to make friends sitting in hot water, even clothed.
I had been ruminating for some time over the possible myriad of potential causes for the inoperable starter. Brushes, burned contacts in the relay etc. The test light showed that I had power out of the relay, so I took the engine cover off, and isolated the problem pretty quickly. The big cable to the relay had vibrated in two at the post terminal. I stripped the insulation back 3/8 of an inch and put it back into the post, then tightened the screw. Problem solved.
Day 6:
I was on the road again around 0900, after striking my camp and then taking one last quick soak. I motored on through Espanola and on to the Roadrunner Café, for another breakfast burrito. (They really do make a very good breakfast burrito. I recommend the green chile.) There is a pretty good climb on the way back into Santa Fe, but the car continued on, with a bit of 3rd gear required near the top. Again, I opted for the relief route instead of suffering the traffic of Santa Fe, then back onto route 14. I stopped for fuel at the lone gas station for the next 40 miles, only do discover that their pumps were closed, and a large group of workers were pumping the tanks out into 55 gallon drums. I heard someone calling out to me; it turned out to be a guy who had owned an Isetta back in the ‘50s. He gave me a card and introduced himself as a professional dowser, and said he had come out there to dowse a well site. He was so happy to see me in an Isetta and on the road that he opened up the back of his 4WD and offered me his gallon jug of emergency gasoline. Thanking him, I headed south through Madrid, Cedar Crest, and Tijeras, before heading down the canyon and into the sprawling metropolis of Albuquerque. By 2:00 in the afternoon, I was home. I pulled into the yard and unloaded all my stuff in a pile, and decided that I would dump the oil while it was still hot. I dropped the Luftmeister oil temperature gauge from my old R90S into the oil pan before I drained it. It read a cool 165F. The oil had a bit of a pearlescent hue to it as it drained from the sump, but I’m not too concerned. On a 50 year old car that has just been trough a trip like that I would expect a little metal wear.
All in all, I found the car to be exceptionally reliable, relatively comfortable, and generally, pretty slow. Not being in a hurry, I was pleased with the overall performance and I was very impressed by its reliability. I had visions of needing to be rescued with a trailer, but some Teutonic deity was smiling on this journey. The only question I struggle wit now is: “would I do it again?”
Probably.
This site was last updated
09/08/08