Volkswagen Blues

They continue their ascent on the eastern side of the mountain range and one afternoon arrive at a plateau where a sign reads, “THIS IS THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE” (166). After parking the minibus, they stand “on the very spot where the waters divided: ahead of them, the water flowed toward the Pacific; behind them, toward the Atlantic” (166). La Grande Sauterelle declares they should do “something special” to mark the occasion. To Jack’s surprise, she strips off her clothing, removes his, and pulls him down by the side of the road. Before they get any further, “the girl felt under her belly a couple of shudders and a little flood” (167). Jack apologizes, saying that sex outdoors always gets him “too excited,” but sadness overtakes the girl for the rest of the day.

The nights are cold. After Jack spreads an electric blanket over the bed, they crawl in, and he quickly falls asleep. The girl, however, tosses and grumbles, eventually waking Jack. When he asks what is wrong, she tearfully replies, “I’m not even a real Indian” (169). She feels that, because she is neither Indigenous nor white, “she is nothing at all” (169). Jack disagrees, saying, “I think you’re something new, something that’s beginning. You’re something that has never been seen before” (169). Comforted, the girl falls asleep in Jack’s arms. Spying the light on the blanket’s oval-shaped temperature control mechanism, Jack fleetingly imagines it is a flying saucer. He falls asleep and dreams “that La Grande Sauterelle was an extraterrestrial” (170).

Just before crossing into Idaho, Jack and the girl pick up an old hitchhiker. He “had a fine face, plump and round, with deep wrinkles around his eyes, but the eyes were those of a crafty man” (172). Identifying himself as a rambler, he says he prefers the road to a home, although long ago he had a house in Ketchum, Idaho. During the 1920s, he lived for a while in Paris, on Rue du Cardinal-Lemoine, and presently, he is traveling to the Oregon coast. He knows of a secret cove on the Pacific shore where nobody goes, adding, “Nobody, that’s me” (173). Before winter arrives, he will head to Key West, as usual, where he enjoys “the boats, the old houses and the cats” (175).

Jack tells the old man about their search for Théo. Although the vagabond always follows the Oregon Trail on his seasonal journeys West and claims to have met Jack Kerouac on the road (before he was famous), he doesn’t recall crossing paths with Théo. He nevertheless expresses certainty that Théo went to California, not Oregon.

They overnight at a campground, and the vagabond chooses to sleep under the picnic table. Inside the Volkswagen, Jack tells La Grande Sauterelle that, having placed himself in Ketchum, in Key West, and on Rue du Cardinal-Lemoine, the old man clearly “thinks he’s Hemingway,” as the author lived in all those places (178). The next morning, the vagabond is gone.

Trusting the vagabond’s assertion that Théo would “be in San Francisco at this time of year,” La Grande Sauterelle, who is driving, turns southwest, along the California Trail (178). The old Volkswagen has been running smoothly until now, but as the afternoon heat intensifies and the girl repeatedly brakes to dodge road mice, the engine starts to cough and then stalls. They lift the hood, and, hearing a whistling noise, La Grande Sauterelle diagnoses the problem as a vapor lock. When she asks Jack what he would do if he were alone, he says he would wait for a girl just like her—“with hair as black as a stove and legs as long […] as a grasshopper’s”—to stop and help him (182).

Approving of Jack’s scheme, the girl declares she should clean the gas pump filter. Jack gets her tools, and as she methodically removes the filter, he shades her from the sun and dabs her brow with cool water. After cleaning the very dirty filter, she carefully puts everything back together. The engine purrs, and Jack is overcome with admiration for the girl. Praising her skill and beauty, he then declares that “mechanics […] was more important than literature and philosophy” (184).

It is a hot day in Nevada, and as Jack and the girl drive along, listening to the radio, one Western song melts into the next. After hours of Western music, Jack says he would prefer to hear an old French song, and more specifically, Yves Montand’s rendition of “Le Temps des cerises.” La Grande Sauterelle, eager to oblige:

pretended to be turning on the radio and, mimicking the sprightly style of a variety show host, she announced […] a song dedicated to all those travelers on the endless roads to the west who were fed up with country music (186).

She then sings the old tune in a “throaty voice,” forgetting numerous words but undaunted nevertheless.

After spending two days driving through an empty desert landscape and encountering few other people, they return to greener country. La Grande Sauterelle proposes they exit the highway as soon as possible and find a ranch to visit. Jack agrees, remarking, “Apparently Westerners are very hospitable. I read that in the literature on Nevada” (189). Pleased with their spontaneous plan, they imagine the friendly ranchers greeting them warmly, inviting them for a horseback ride, and then asking them to stay for a barbecue they are hosting that very evening.

Despite a sign that warns, “NO TRESPASSING,” Jack turns onto the first private road they encounter. They soon see a house with a large veranda on which sit a table and chairs, but no people. Jack parks, but when he opens his door, three German Shepherds dash out from under the veranda, snarling and snapping. Jack shuts his door again just as the dogs lunge at the Volkswagen and bark ferociously. As Jack drives slowly away from the house, the dogs follow for a short stretch and then retreat. The girl calmly says they will try to meet people another time. Jack first replies, “It’s true, not all people are dogs” and then, realizing his slip-up, says, “I meant, not all people have dogs” (191).