The MoBus is Painted In Albuquerque

In the parking lot of Walmart the painting of the MoBus begins.

The MoBus Takes a Break

Somewhere along the road the MoBus stops to rest. We had overheating problems and would occasionally have to cool off.

Twleve Hours After MoBus Arrival The Merry Molochster Prepare to Depart

The MoBus arrived in Austin at 3 pm and a mere twelve hours later the Merry Molochsters were prepared to depart on the MoBeg'n Tour. The MoBus had been tested on the road from Madison, but should have had a complete check up and fluid change. But, nothing stops a MoBus from it's appointed rounds.

The MoBus Arrives in Austin, TX at the Aristocrat Caravaner Society

After 1,200 miles in 28 hurs the MoBus arrives in Austin, TX at the Aristocrat Caravaner Society, point of departure for the DonJon's MoBeg'n Tour.

MoBus Goes Off Road Outside Austin, TX

In a traffic jam on I-35 just outside Austin the MoBus goes off road. Only 100 down the traffic cleared up and the MoBus was back on I-35 20 minutes away from arrival at the Aristocrat Caravaner Society, DonJon's Austin home.

DonJon at the Wheel, The MoBus Cruises Through St. Louis, MO

The MoBus back on the road from the blow out cruises through St. Louis, MO with DonJon at the wheel and Big Tone navigating.

First Night on the MoBus with Blown Tire in Illinois

by Tony Floriani

After an overwhelming, but nonetheless awe inspiring couple of days in Madison fixing the bus, we picked up our first two passengers, and hit the road. While Donjon took the wheel and I navigated and watched our considerable blind spot, I can only imagine what was going through the minds of our Swiss friends' heads. Over a thousand miles from home, in an unimaginably large vehicle that had failed to even start up only days before, with a cowboy bohemian at the helm and a wild haired ex businessman explaining to them that we'd drag the bus on our backs if we had to...

Just a few hours into the trip, a little after 11pm, we put that theory to the test. We all jumped and there was a moment of confusion as one of the tires blew out with a loud bang that jangled my already fraying nerves. DJ handled the situation like a master, though, and a few seconds later we had the bus steady enough to guide her onto the shoulder. I'd been worried since we began the journey that the bus simply wouldn't make it through the 6,000 mile journey we had in store for it, and suddenly that sickening reality settled in. But despite my period of pessimism, by no means were we without hope. I'd said we'd carry the bus on our backs if we had to, but before we reached that eventuality, we were damn well going to do everything in our power to get her rolling again.

After setting up the emergency triangles and messing around with the disordered rewiring that the previous owner had applied to the exterior lighting, we all gathered around to have a look at the blown tire. We discovered that it was one of the starboard tires, just in front of the articulation. I marveled at how badly the tire had shredded, which unbeknownst to me at the time was pretty much what happens when large tires go boom. Even knowing that now, the sight was impressive. The treads had separated, peeled away from the rim as if raked by the claws of a terrifyingly large animal. Perhaps a polar bear or a T-Rex. 

The Swiss just rolled with it, didn't seem perturbed much. Perhaps they had the mistaken impression that we knew what we were doing, or perhaps it didn't matter. I couldn't say. Meanwhile, if DJ was frustrated, he nonetheless took it in stride, and Randy, our mechanic who more or less single handedly got the bus rolling out of its barn-turned-mausoleum just a few hours back, set to work contacting local tire shops. I stewed a bit, realizing that we'd certainly get rolling again, but now facing a related worry, that which pertained to our shoestring budget. 

It was about that time that I looked up and across the length of the bus to notice how our position on the shoulder had, in removing us from the traffic flow of the highway, placed us on a good fifteen or twenty degree tilt, which the blown tire was directly under. I'm sure my shoulders must've slumped heavily when I saw that, and seeing that we'd have to wait for a mechanic in any event, we retreated back onto the bus. I kept the Swiss company as we prepared for the possibility of a long night while Randy and DJ used what little charge our phones had left to make there calls. It took about an hour, during which we'd begun telling stories and listening to music on a cheap portable speaker, to determine that we wouldn't be getting any help until morning. The tire we'd lost had a bizarre configuration that the mechanics later referred to as "suicide rims." Aside from being wickedly unusual and hard to replace, these rims apparently had a tendency to separate from the axle mid-drive. Not the most comforting revelation, to say the least, but by that measure it would seem our situation was actually fortuitous. It revealed a potentially dangerous design faux pas without killing us. Sometimes, it's all about that silver lining.

Given our situation, DJ felt, correctly, that a little booze was just the thing we needed to keep our spirits up. So he and Randy took our chase car down the road and bought us a few six packs and some snacks. We spent the rest of the night drinking, and getting to know the Swiss. They were a couple, Simon and Karen, and they'd seemed perfectly comfortable with our outlandish situation from the start, when we found them outside a gas station and I'd leapt out of a still moving car shouting "I come from the MoBus!" Turns out, Simon had done an exchange program in school years ago and had been coming to visit his host family in Madison, every year since. He therefor spoke excellent English. Karen didn't speak much English at all, or at least, she didn't choose to at the time. So when something came up that was mutually incomprehensible, she'd speak to Simon in what I think was German, and he'd translate. Finally, after getting good and tipsy, and revealing Karen's extreme dislike of U2, we called it a night and tried restlessly to find decent places to sleep in our new, tilted home. And so ended our first night on the MoBus. Things would only get weirder from there, and that's the way we like it.

-Tony

MoBus Blowout in Illinois

When the MoBus departed Madison, a dude at a big rig garage told us that these tires were very uncommon and they were on 'split rims,' commonly refered to in his line of work as suicide rims.  Apparently they have blown peoples heads off.  We blow a tire on the road and upgraded both rear tires at a cost well above our meger budget.  Oh well, such is life on the MoBus.

First Tour of the MoBus - Madison WI

As we prepare to depart Madison, WI, our friends, the Swissassins, take the first video tour of the MoBus, all 60 feet!

DonJon Pilots MoBus One for the First Time

This is the earliest video we took of the MoBus in action, and its a beautiful sight. As the video was being shot, I stood and watched DJ put the ol' girl through her paces in a truck shop parking lot. I'd just retrieved our first two passengers, Simon and Karen, soon to be known affectionately as the Swissassins, and it was starting to sink in that we might actually succeed. Our quest to take the largest interstate bus ever built, on a 6,000 mile journey to Burning Man and back was madness, pure madness, but it was happening. After all the planning, fundraising, organizing, the frustration and the setbacks, I hardly believed that I was actually seeing our work come to fruition. The doubt that I'd been poorly concealing since we left Austin was finally starting to fade.

About a week before, I'd just returned home from a trip to El Salvador. The first call I got was from DJ, letting me know that our man in the Midwest had failed to pick up the bus as planned. It had felt like a long trip, because exciting as it was to be in another country, I still couldn't fully insulate myself from the torrent of bad news that had begun to pour out of the MoBus project since I'd left. Fundraising commitments fell through, riders had begun dropping out, others were loosing faith, and all I could do was send a reassuring email once or twice a day, even as my own confidence began to wane. When I got off the plane and walked out of the Austin airport, I didn't want to hear anymore. I was desperate to go home and do nothing for a few days, clear my head before game time. But that wasn't to be.

When I first got the call, I balked at the prospect of dropping everything to drive a thousand miles for a bus that might not even make the return trip to Austin. I was tired, and if truth be told, a bit depressed that everything seemed to be falling to pieces mere days before our Grand Departure. So when DJ asked if I'd come with him to pick up the bus, I told him "no." He'd seemed a bit injured at the idea that I wouldn't be coming, but he assured me that he and our mechanic, Randy, could get it done on their own. I was off the hook.

Over the next five hours though, I stewed. I'd made no pretense of an excuse that might have kept me from going, and as I sat there I realized that it just wasn't good enough. Aside from DJ, I'd invested myself in the project more than anyone. Actually, I was obsessed. The outrageous idea that began as a conversation on DJ's patio had grown to encompass most every aspect of my life. I wanted to set it aside, get my bearings, but I couldn't. I couldn't let it go, and I couldn't let DJ go to Madison without me. I think in the back of my mind, I feared that if I didn't go and see the bus myself, it wouldn't be there for us when we needed it.
So I phoned DJ and told him to pick me up. It took us three days, a thousand miles, several dozen false starts and a broken barn door, but the damn thing came to life! Randy had resurrected her, and there she was, happily rolling around the parking lot. More challenges were definitely coming, of course. We knew that even then, but now we'd seen it. We glimpsed a hint of our vision fulfilled. That's when the MoRoadtrip really began in earnest.

Anthony Floriani