suebug 
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 Posted: Fri May 24, 2013 8:48 am Post subject: |
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Published: May 22, 2013 Updated: May 23, 2013 12:30 p.m.
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Film evolves from VW-bus impulse buy
‘Circle the Wagen' tracks three friends and a really long drive.
Article Tab: Charlie Pecoraro, Ryan Green and Dave Torstenson, from left, sit in the VW bus which is the centerpiece of their film, Circle the Wagen. The VW is now parked in Green's garage and doubles as the editing studio for the film.
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Charlie Pecoraro, Ryan Green and Dave Torstenson, from left, sit in the VW bus which is the centerpiece of their film, "Circle the Wagen." The VW is now parked in Green's garage and doubles as the editing studio for the film.
ARMANDO BROWN, FOR THE REGISTER
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Charlie Pecoraro, Ryan Green and Dave Torstenson, from left, sit inside of the VW bus which is the centerpiece of their film, Circle the Wagen. The VW is now parked in Green's garage and doubles as the editing studio in which Green used his laptop to complete the project.
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Film evolves from VW-bus impulse buy
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By DEEPA BHARATH / ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Dave Torstenson never felt more hopeless than he did on a cold January afternoon two years ago.
He was with two friends, Fullerton native Charles Pecoraro and Ryan Green. They were driving a 1972 Volkswagen Transporter, which Torstenson bought five years earlier for $787.
The three men had a dream – to complete a documentary about the experience of driving the VW from Iowa to Los Angeles. Pecoraro and Green met as film majors at USC, where Torstenson studied journalism.
During the first phase of the project, the bus had taken on a personality of its own. It made them laugh and cry. It tested their friendship, at one point nearly ending it.
But after spending thousands of dollars on the film – money they didn't have – the friends decided in 2011 to make one last-ditch attempt to bring the VW bus to Los Angeles and complete their documentary. They would drive Route 66 from Tucumcari, N.M., to the Santa Monica Pier, where it would all end with laughs and margaritas.
But five minutes after leaving the Blue Swallow Motel in Tucumcari, where the bus had been parked for five years, it broke down yet again, bringing back the familiar frustration. This time, they were on Route 40, at a dead end. How ironic, Torstenson thought.
Just as it seemed like it couldn't get worse, the rain came. He turned the ignition again. Nothing.
•••
The first time he saw a picture of the VW Transporter – baby blue and white; blotches of rust – Torstenson smiled. "I was a twentysomething who wasn't really thinking."
He even had a name for it. He was browsing eBay and working at an Apple store in New York and listening to Elton John's "Crocodile Rock" when he first saw the Transporter. So the VW bus became known as "The Croc."
Next, he gathered his life's savings and flew from New York to Des Moines, Iowa. He planned to drive The Croc to his then-girlfriend's parents' home in Tulsa, Okla., and celebrate New Year's Day there.
It didn't take long, post-purchase, for Torstenson to realize his mistake. The bus had no heater or radio. He knew nothing about fixing cars or VWs in particular. The engine made an ominous clunking sound.
Torstenson got to Tulsa, but wasn't hopeful of driving further. He tried selling The Croc to a local church, but it passed.
Soon, he returned empty-handed to Los Angeles. Pecoraro was intrigued by his friend's story. When they scoured the Internet to find ways to bring the bus to Los Angeles, they learned about a group of Volkswagen enthusiasts called the "Aircooled Interstate Rescue Squad," named after the classic VW engine, which is cooled by air rather than liquid.
Members of AIRS help stranded VW drivers for free. They even feed them sometimes and let them crash on their couches.
Pecoraro was touched by this altruism, which he found (and still finds) "unreal." That's when he had an idea: They would drive The Croc to L.A. with the help of AIRS and capture the journey on film.
Family members and friends helped them with the seed money, and soon, the two friends, plus a camera crew, set off for Tulsa.
The VW network did not disappoint.
Any time The Croc broke down, helpers showed up with tools, stories and kind words. AIRS member Pete Sottnik, who owns 15 VW buses, helped The Croc get from Tulsa to Oklahoma City. Pecoraro calls Sottnik their "Obi-Wan."
In Oklahoma City, they met Matt Josef, an artist who turns VW fenders and hoods into sculpture. In under 30 hours, he covered The Croc with mural art.
They next drove through Texas and arrived at the Blue Swallow, on Route 66 in scenic Tucumcari. The vintage motel was owned by Bill Kinder, who, with his red beard, straw hat and tie-dye shirt, was a poster child for Route 66. He offered to keep the bus at his motel.
Fatigued by the journey, the group decided to leave the bus at the Blue Swallow.
Four years passed; the friends went their separate ways. "But we always thought about The Croc," Pecoraro said. "It was in the back of our minds."
In December 2010, Torstenson got a call from Kinder. He was selling the motel. In 2011, when Torstenson returned to the United States after a teaching gig in China, the group decided to get back together, complete the documentary and bring The Croc home. The only problem: They needed $10,000 for the project.
"We decided to make it happen with sheer will and alternating sliding credit cards," Torstenson said.
When they got to the Blue Swallow, The Croc was in bad shape. They reached out to the VW network and they came – Obi-Wan and another expert, Greg Trieble, whom Pecoraro calls his "bus whisperer."
Together they fixed The Croc in a day, and the friends set off on their journey yet again.
That's when it happened. The Croc sputtered to a stop and wouldn't start up.
"I thought that was it," Torstenson said. "We weren't going anywhere."
Just when Torstenson started losing hope, they called Sottnik, who taught him to use the "heel-toe" method to restart the engine. To his surprise, the engine restarted and they got it up and running.
The Croc never looked back. After they crossed Flagstaff, Ariz., the weather warmed up and, unbelievably, things got easier.
Pecoraro and Torstenson struggle to describe their feelings as The Croc arrived on Santa Monica Pier.
"I couldn't believe it," Pecoraro says.
The friends celebrated with tacos and margaritas.
Soon after, Green began to edit several years of raw footage. He liked what he saw.
He moved The Croc to the garage of his home in Silver Lake and made it his office, sitting in the cab while editing.
The friends call their film "Circle the Wagen."
Pecoraro sees it as a story about strangers trusting strangers.
"We live in a time where we believe that our neighbors are perverts or are trying to steal from us," he says. "But here is a group whose members will let you stay in their home, feed you and take care of you because you have the same kind of car.
"This story is larger than the VW. It's about the human connection."
"Circle the Wagen" will premiere June 9 in Albuquerque, N.M., at the Albuquerque Film and Media Experience Festival.
Pecoraro sees wicked irony in the fact that they have to get The Croc back to New Mexico for the premiere. They won't drive this time; it'll be towed.
Torstenson remembers his first thought when he poured his life's savings into his semi-beloved rust bucket.
"I thought there was a good story to be had here," he said. "I was extremely lucky that it turned out to be true."
Contact the writer: 714-796-7909 or [email protected]
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