Ready to be Entertained?

Kyle:
July 12th: There was no pressure to be anywhere by nightfall. We poked our heads out of our tents sometime around 9:00 a.m, eyes fixed on Zion’s tan navajo sandstones which outline the park’s grand scenery, to find that nearly all of our fellow car campers had already set out to explore Zion National Park’s mystified canyons and tourist-crammed paved trails. Well, not all our fellow campers had vacated the area- our campsite was swarming with ants. Thomas had claimed that these particular red white and blue striped ants were nocturnal; rather, the morning light only illuminated the creatures’ presence on their apparent stomping grounds. We packed up the car and went to town. Each time we re-pack the car, we discover new ways to compact our belongings. If everything fits, why does it matter if it fits so perfectly, you may wonder? To put it simply, we left Andover with twenty gallons of reserve veggie oil. Today, we have the capabilities of keeping fifty gallons on reserve. Anyhoo, it was on this day that we would first treat ourselves to a fine dining experience. The small town of Springdale, Utah sits at the foot of Zion’s south entrance. Modeled around a brief strip of restaurants, elegant lodges and gift shops, the town caters to the park’s guests while refraining from the overwhelming attractions that make places like Gatlinburg, TN nearly unbearable. We chose to eat at Wildcat Willie’s (what a name, right?), a pad at which we inquired about grease on our way into town the night before. Our first meal cooked on something other than a camp stove fueled us for the grease hunt that would ensue. While Thomas went to an internet cafe to “charge his camera” and presumably email his twelve-year-old girlfriend he met under the Delicate Arch in Moab days before, Alyssa and I headed down opposite ends of the street in hopes of hitting a honey pot that would propel our french fry fragrance well into California. Our grease reserves were not brimming their compartments, but by no means had they hit rock bottom like the Miami Redhawks’ Football team on day 2 of every season since the locally adjudged scoundrel Ben Rothelisburger left campus (without picking up his $300 bar tab at Oxford’s most frequented bar). However, with the addition of their newly acquired lion-heart left guard Thomas Herrick, who sits shotgun in the veggie mobile and has served as a luminary for collegiate athletes worldwide, Miami’s football team was recognized as the NCAAs most improved squad in the fall of 2010. Now that you the reader, have been familiarized Herrick, Thomas G, we can proceed in sharing our adventure with you the informed blog follower. We spent a few hours in Springdale searching for grease. Only a few hundred yards from Zion’s entrance, we found ourselves in a prolonged search that lasted longer than we had expected; potentially unsoiled grease we had been tipped off to the night before proved to be rancid, and most managers who had the inside scoop on grease collection policies didn’t arrive at their respective posts until the afternoon. Approaching the park we noticed a natural shrine that, to us veggie hunters, can make the most downtrodden of landscapes appear winsome: a Thai restaurant. Alyssa hopped out of our automotive and dashed for the front doors. As I recall the fateful moment, she made a little European girl, one comparable to Thomas’ newly found soulmate, tumble into the adjacent exotic fish tank in the restaurants foyer. Believe me, that young lady will do anything for some fat free waste veggie oil. Minutes later, we were pulling the Benz behind the joint. The manager, a kind Asian man with a thick accent, brought us three cubes of oil, clean as a pine cone. When we popped the trunk to begin the filtration process, the man gaped at our configuration in astonishment. “No Way! No Way! Rocket scientist! I don’t believe it! No way!” the man exclaimed, repeatedly. We surely appreciated the compliment; however, now Alyssa thinks she’s a rocket scientist... We filtered the oil and drove through the entrance to the park. Our waitress at breakfast suggested to us a local watering hole. We were not locals, and we did not find the watering hole. But we did take the free bus through the park with all the other tourists. We made one stop at Emerald pools, a series of three shallow depressions filled with mucky water. As undesirable as that may sound, a beautiful path, partly paved and filled with tourists, wound through waterfalls and overlooks en route to the pools. The hike was enjoyable- Way too many people... But to be honest, Zion was the least exciting part of our day. We bussed back to the car and headed for what we’ve all been waiting for: Vegas. We drove through before dark set in, but the sight was entertaining non-the-less. Equally as entertaining as Las Vegas is Tehachapi, California. We planned to drive through the night until we reached the Tomo Kahnin State Park, located on rt. 202 in majestic Tehachapi. Extensive single lane roads lead us through a maze of California truck stops, not without a standstill in traffic among fourteen thousand semi-trucks. We stopped at a rest stop to change the car’s secondary filter as it acted up without warning on 15 South. Thomas likes rest stops. In his autobiography exploring the rise and fall of a collegiate football hero turned WWE announcer, he recounts many of his fondest memories with rest stop vagrants in northern Canada, Iceland and Mongolia. Eventually we pulled off into Tehachapi. The town was small and Route 202 was not easily identifiable. Where would you stop at two in the morning if you were looking for a state park? We stopped at Del Taco. At the drive-thru we inquired about directions to Tomo-Kahnin State Park. Kind late-night Del Taco employees met us in the parking lot and explained that Tomo-Kahnin was a state prison. Amused with the prospect of what we thought would be the perfect place to spend the night, we soon found ourselves driving up a mountain road to a nearby campground. “Tehachapi Mountain Camp: $14” the sign read. We all laughed. Not that we would ever dodge such a fee- we simply didn’t know where to put our bills. So we pushed the Benz up the hill. The car appeared to be overheating faster than the turtles we roasted that night in Kansas. We pulled over, smoke pluming out the hood. Alyssa was balling her eyes out as if someone had left a snake in her sleeping bag. The car was about to blow. Actually, it was just a bit too excited to be in Tehachapi. The turnoff we occupied sat at the edge of a group’s campsite. Two guys walked down the hill in bewilderment, unsure of who could possibly be rolling up their drive in the wee morning hours. California backcountry, unfamiliar bleach-blonde hair- before I could eat a chicken bone, Thomas had taken up a survival knife in each hand. But it didn’t take long to realize that Cameron and Keaton were just the Cali-folk we were in search of. They invited us to join their fire and we exchanged a series of east coast/west coast thrills that each side, respectively, was quite unfamiliar with. Keaton and Cameron, along with their friends Tom and Jenna, shared S’mores with us in exchange for some insider stock tips on veggie cars. Thomas sucked the juices out of a Lamb’s leg until about four a.m. when he set the tent up, while Alyssa befriended the Cali’s with the ulterior motive to steal the remaining marshmallows and taco seasoning from the vehicles of our newly formed acquaintances. Meanwhile, I spent the early morning searching for Toto, the fly we kicked out on the Kansas Colorado border. We heard he was at large in Tehachapi. Cameron, Keaton, Tom and Jenna were just what we’d been looking for: some kind, generous, amusing local fellows to take us in and tell us what the west coast is all about. It’s the people like them who can keep a road trip interesting and, more importantly, make you realize that there are all sorts of characters anywhere you go, each of whom you can closely identify with no matter what planet you think they may have been born on. But Cam, Keaton, Tom and Jenna, they were pretty cool. Born on Earth, I think. Certainly some of the friendliest people we have spent time with on our road trip yet.

Thomas:
With a $500 bounty on our heads and Great Wall management hot on our tracks, we knew we would have to make moves...and fast. The stale smell of Vegetable Oil, now a prominent ingredient in our un-showered funk, would be all the incriminating evidence any undercover VegCorp Vigilante would need to take us out. We ducked into the local speakeasy, Frosty King, to lie low and reorganize. We would head for Yosemite, where we could slip into the backcountry, deciding to take our chances with the local bear population rather than sticking around the main roads. Rolling into the park, Smokey the Bear looked down upon us with contempt as Kyle threw his Cuban into the dry shrubbery surrounding the “High Fire Alert” sign.
With a grimace and a shrug, Kyle made his stance clear; “Whatever! I don’t even care!”
We stopped in at a supermarket to stock up on food and ammunition. After being followed around the store by an elderly lady with a radio, hidden inconspicuously (to the untrained eye) in one of the tennis balls on her walker, told me it was high time to get out of there.
Where to stay the night? Campgrounds weren’t safe, we knew that much. Parking lots? No, no, they would be expecting that...a patch of dirt behind a local diner would have to suffice.
Huddled, under a nearly-full moon, over a boiling pot of Raman, the only thing we knew for certain; the noodles were delicious.

Alyssa:
Okay, the boys had their fun. Please don’t take half the things they say seriously - their blog posts should come with a disclaimer. If you’re still reading this out-of-control post, you should know the truth. In these past few days, we have met some really cool people, our car did almost blow up, we do have a $500 reward for someone to report us to a biofuel company (thankfully in a town that we will not be going through again), and we have slept in some super sketchy places. We’ve been having a super fun time though, and have seen so much of the country that we would not have had the opportunity to see had we not been running on free waste vegetable oil! Now, in Truckee, CA, we can proudly say that we’ve made it to California on only one tank of diesel fuel and gone over 4,000 miles on WVO. We’ve used less than $70 worth of diesel and have practically eliminated our sulfur emissions, not to mention that our fuel source creates a closed carbon cycle. That means that the carbon we are burning has come from carbon already in the atmosphere, absorbed by the plants that the oil was extracted from. Since fossil fuel, like gasoline and diesel fuel, requires extracting carbon that was already stored away deep in the Earth, burning it adds excessive carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, which exacerbates the greenhouse effect, thus contributing to global climate change, as well as other environmental hazards.

Crossing into California was an amazing triumph. Kyle, Thomas, and I each gave a loud “woo-hoo!” when we saw the welcome sign. I hope that the feat of driving a car on WVO cross-country proves to people that the use of alternative, more sustainable fuel is possible for anyone of any age or technical ability.

Walking through Yosemite National Park for three days, I was never short of awe-inspiring moments where life, in every form, surrounds you. The thick forest, rushing falls, and endless sky filled my heart with peace and serenity. As we hiked for miles, I meditated about the connection between nature and humans, and I realized that there is no separation. The connection is that all living things are made of the same elements, and the only way we can protect our species is to protect all species and even non-living abiotic elements in our environment. It is our responsibility to preserve the environment around us - water, air, land, animals, plants - to ensure that life after our generation will have the same potential for peace and health that we have today. It can only be individual efforts that start the snowball of change, as small as they may be.

After three amazing days of hiking and camping in Yosemite, we drove five hours to Truckee, CA - home of my brother Danny and his roommates Sam and Chris. We got to the north Tahoe-area town around 3 am, perfect timing since Danny was just coming home. On Sunday, Danny showed us around Truckee and enjoyed his first time driving the vegmobile. We hung out on a dock at Donner Lake and saw the amazing view from rt 40. Later, we meandered over to Burger Me for lunch, a burger restaurant featuring locally and sustainably grown food. I’d recommend the homemade veggie burger to anyone! The rest of the day was filled spending time with good friends and meeting new ones. The community in Truckee is unlike any other; I can completely understand why my brother lives here and loves it. After a night of celebrating Sam’s birthday, we woke up this morning and are heading to the American River to go rafting with six people and two dogs! We got grease from Zano’s, the restaurant where Danny works, and are planning on getting more in Truckee before we head to the redwoods in Arcata. The trip has been amazing so far! We’ll be staying in Truckee until the replacement pump that I ordered for my car arrives. Then we have our eyes set on Arcata, Portland, OR, Yellowstone, and Bad Lands! I'll edit this post later to add tons of pictures of the beautiful scenery! Until next post, we'll be staying green and greasy. Thanks for the support everyone.

Kansas and Colorado

Trying to catch up in our blogging, but still a few days behind. Enjoy a recap of earlier this week!

Sunday, July 10th - We’ve made it to Utah. Moab/Arches NP/Canyonlands NP to be specific. But we will recap a bit. Kansas has been, by far, the most exhilarating state on this trip. From the stellar views to the treacherous rock scrambles, we cherished every minute of this so often trivialized landscape. Okay, so Kansas was no Utah, but it was Alyssa’s dream destination. On the road from Andover, cruising on veggie down scenic Route 28, Alyssa couldn’t hold it in. “I can’t wait for Kansas,” she would repeatedly holler. And believe me, when we finally made it to one of America’s most pristine tourist destinations, she was not disappointed in the least. Farms, cows, corn, dragons, haystacks, and tractors of course- everything little kids dream of- were visible from I-70. Additionally, Kansas displays the many ways of extraction by which America musters up its energy. Oil rigs and coal mines were commonplace throughout our midwest drive, but Kansas also showed off its high tech green technology in the form of wind turbines and solar panels. And as you can guess, Alyssa, the budding environmentalist as termed by Bill Fahey himself at Andover High School’s 2011 graduation ceremony, simply lost herself as her eyes were confronted with such evidence of a sustainability in our country. Never having witnessed hundreds of wind turbines outside of GreenPeace’s most recent promotional DVD, Alyssa came to the realization that driving a veggie car is not the only way to go green. All the while I sat in the passenger seat wondering, what will this girl do next? There is really no telling. Veggie powered airplanes? Veggie powered computers? Alyssa waited over a week before purchasing new batteries for her headlamp- did she plan on converting that to run on veggie oil too? Only time will tell. We arrived at Cedar Bluff State Park around 11:30. Unable to locate the campsite that we less than barely paid the bare minimum for, we pitched our tents right along the lake with all the other RVs and gas guzzling vehicles, boats in tow. Every time Alyssa sees a diesel vehicle, she howls “convert it!” at the top of her lungs. Last night, Thomas thought he heard a dog outside our tent in Arches’ backcountry; he was relieved to find that Alyssa had heard a diesel truck on the main road and climbed to the top of the adjacent canyon to yell “convert it,” using her veggie oil funnel as a voice projection mechanism. Anyway, Kansas was memorable; playing on rows of hay barrels, brewing chi tea at midnight and packing it all up as fast as the water boiled when we thought a killer bear was roaming the corn field, and driving in a straight line for five hours are all moments of this trip that will stay with us for a lifetime. Remember Dorothy? We didn’t see her, but we adopted a pet fly, Toto, who stayed in our car for quite some time. When we hit Colorado, we kicked him out. Actually, we fried him in veggie oil. Either way, we made it to Colorado.

Alyssa: When we crossed the border into Colorado, we were surprised, to say the least. Although we were finally getting our hopes up to be leaving the flat, endless fields of Kansas to ascend up into the grand mountains of Colorado, the scenery didn’t change one bit. It turns out east Colorado looks the same as Kansas for a solid hundred miles. Cool.

Soon enough, we were in Denver. Although I had wanted to see the city, I was concerned about finding waste vegetable oil that we could take. Most of the people I knew running on WVO had told me that Denver is one of the hardest cities to find grease in, since there are a lot of biodiesel companies already picking it up regularly. We parked the car near Colfax Ave after some advice from a man selling fried catfish out of an ice-cream truck. Kyle and Thomas took one side of Colfax, a main road concentrated with restaurants, while I took the other. After about three hours on a wild grease chase - walking over forty blocks, asking dozens of managers for grease, being denied or being allowed to check rancid or empty dumpsters, and getting rained on, Kyle finally found a nearly full fifty-five gallon drum of good quality grease that we were allowed to take. It sounded too good to be true after such a hard day of searching. Unfortunately, it was too good to be true. In order to access the drum, the executive chef of the restaurant next door had to move his brand new Porsche. He agreed to do so if he could get out of the kitchen before the 7:00 dinner rush. It was 6:30 at the time, so we decided to wait behind the restaurants... and we waited... and waited... and waited. Trying not to be rude, we didn’t bother the hostess or chef of the restaurant next door, so every hour or so we snuck out of the dark alley and peered around the corner to see if the restaurant was still open. Around 11:30 pm, the customers sitting on the patio seemed really sketched out by our sketchy spying, so we decided to take a late night drive to other restaurants that were suggested to us.

Our night in Denver continued to be long and frustrating. When the chef finally pulled away long after his restaurant closed, the grease we started taking seemed too liquid and too clear to be good quality. Denver had gotten so much rain that the streets had flooded the day before, and we were concerned that there was water in this pot of gold that we had waited so long for. We called it a night after grabbing ten gallons of the most likely contaminated grease, but it was too late at night (or early in the morning) to drive an hour to Boulder, where we were planning on sleeping. We put our backup plan into effect and slept in our car on a residential street a few blocks off Colfax.

K-note: Our gang awoke on 13th and Moccasin, a residential drive a few blocks from Colfax. Sleeping in a car is not bad, as long as you aren’t using cubes of grease as pillows or ottomans- but we don’t bother with that vegetable oil stuff anyway... Our previous night’s grease hunt resumed as quickly as Thomas pulls out his “survival” knife in self defense at the sight of a chipmunk.

A. Solo - We ended up getting grease from Chipotle (a feat in itself for being from a corporate restaurant chain) and another Mexican restaurant. Before we left Denver, my pump to collect and filter grease stopped working abruptly. Yes, another problem, and a significant one at that, if we wanted to keep collecting grease. Having had enough frustration in Denver, we dumped the grease that we suspected had water in it, got on the road and headed to Moab, UT. In Grand Junction, I tried switching the fuse on the pump, but no luck in getting it to work. I had to check the ground and power connection of the circuit, but needed an extra car battery to do that, so we drove to NAPA Auto Parts, where Austin generously helped us troubleshoot in return for a detailed explanation of my veggie system. My ground and power were fine, so it was the pump that needed to be replaced. The certain pump that I needed is not very common; there was one in Salt Lake City and another on the coast of California, so we decided to order it ourselves online, using the public library for internet. After some finagling and favors, we had it set so that the pump would be shipped to a bike shop in Moab, UT in three to five days. To be continued...

Catch Up With Us If You Can

As much as I had hoped to blog everyday, today is the first day we have been able to get onto the internet other than on my phone (if you have Twitter, follow Veggie_Car for more frequent updates). It has been a thrilling six days on the road so far! We have been able to get a lot of grease from pizza shops, japanese restaurants, and diners. And now, in Colorado, we are snagging some internet at Starbucks to update our friends, family, and followers about our grease journey thus far.

Day 1:
On Saturday, July 2nd, Kyle and I left Andover, MA around noon with a tankful of grease and a reserve that included twenty gallons contained in four, five-gallon buckets. The trunk was so weighed down that the frame of the car was about six inches lower than it usually is! Huge thanks to Jim from the Live Free or Diner in Plaistow, NH, and Louie from Milan Pizza in Lowell, MA, for supplying us with as much grease as we could take with us! We made our way South celebrating every hundred miles we drove, with a surreal feeling that we were actually embarking on this adventure.

Somewhere before Pennsylvania, the car started to feel funny. "I must need a new secondary filter," I said. "We should probably get off the next exit so I can change it." But before we could make it to the next exit, the car started decelerating rapidly, no matter how hard I pressed my foot on the gas pedal. We rolled over to the side of 81 South to check the trunk where my grease tank, filter, pump, and reserve buckets are located. It turns out that I simply misjudged how far a tank of grease would take us by about fifty miles. Since the tank was empty, and the switches were still on to start on grease, we had to pump grease from our reserve buckets into the tank on the side of the highway! It must have been quite an unusual sight to see for most drivers, but we filled up safely and continued on our way. Scare #1, three hours in, pretty minor.

Later that day, we decided to stop in Duncannon, PA. Kyle remembered the sleepy, thru-hiker's town from two years ago when he hiked the Appalachian Trail. Our plan was to visit Vicky, owner of the Doyle Hotel, and ask her if she would be willing to donate her waste french fry grease for our travels. We were so concentrated on following directions to get there, that we forgot to switch the fuel to diesel to stop. We switched over to diesel, but had to continue driving for five more minutes to clear out the engine and surrounding hoses of grease. There’s not a whole lot going on in Duncannon, so we decided to pull into a gas station to fill up on diesel just in case we couldn't find more grease in the next few days. As I tried to open the locked flap to fill my diesel tank, Kyle and I simultaneously noticed a HUGE leak coming from the side of the trunk where the Greasecar pre-filter is located. Horrified, we opened the trunk to see that a large amount of vegetable oil had leaked from the filter or connected hoses. I felt around with a white cloth to make sure that the leak was only grease and not coolant, which also runs through the filter housing. Unfortunately, the colors of liquids on the cloth revealed that there was both grease and coolant leaking. I called Patrick Keaney, the Green Grease Monkey, for some mechanical support and maybe consonance, but I wasn’t able to get in touch with him on the spot. As I frantically cleaned up the spill at the gas station, an attendant came over to make sure that it was not fuel that was spilling. I started to assure her that it was not fuel - well, it was my fuel, I had to say, but it was not gasoline or diesel. She raised an eyebrow and stared at me, so I told her that we were leaving instead of trying to explain. Extremely disappointed, Kyle and I drove back to The Doyle Hotel and parked for the night (although we thought we would have to be parked for much longer).

Since there was indication of a coolant leak, I was certain we could not continue our road trip. If enough coolant leaked, my engine would overheat and could seize up, not only leaving us stranded, but damaging my car permanently. In addition to the detrimental grease and coolant leaks, the flap to fill up diesel would not unlock. I realized that it was due to the fact that a vacuum in my car stopped working a few days ago, controlling the central locking system. I hadn’t needed to get diesel recently, so I hadn’t tried opening it until now, and hadn’t fixed the vacuum because I was fine with manually opening and locking the doors. Kyle and I spent the majority of the rest of the night thinking of other adventures that we could spend our free month doing. We considered having the car towed back, and hiking the Appalachian Trail home to Massachusetts. We talked with Vicky at the bar about our predicament, and in addition to giving us a discounted room, free camp stove fuel, and a good laugh, she offered us a parking spot in her lot for a week! In her words, though, the Doyle Hotel “hasn’t yet received a star.”

Day 2:
Without much sleep due to an intense storm the night before, Kyle and I woke up early to a call from Patrick. He explained a way that I could disconnect the coolant hoses from the filter to bypass the leak in order to drive home on diesel. Still though, I couldn’t open the diesel flap in order to put diesel fuel into my car. After taking a good look at the filter, and troubleshooting some more, we found a solution to the leak that allowed us to continue. Scare #2, less than a day in, pretty significant.

During the two hours that we tinkered in the trunk, we caught the attention of Glen, an intelligent and genuine AT thru-hiker and engineer. I got the pleasure to discuss the modifications on the car with him. I won’t be surprised when I see his name on a super lightweight hiking pack that he will design. We also figured out how to open the diesel flap with an emergency lever in the trunk before we packed up to continue our trip. Scare #3, less than a day in, not so bad.

We said goodbye to Vicky and promised to send her a picture of us on the west coast before we headed towards the Shenandoah National Park. For most of Day 2, we drove on Skyline Drive admiring the amazing lookouts along the way. We camped outside the Punch Bowl shelter on the AT after watching some beautiful surprise fireworks from a lookout.

Day 3:
The Blue Ridge Parkway, a scenic roadway that winds through both America’s southeast countryside and some of the world’s oldest geologic formations in the Appalachian Mountain Range, is a route not to be avoided. Even if your endless days of driving for ten hours on end are leading you to the 10,000 foot peaks of the Sierra Nevadas or the smooth, swiveling, iron-rich curvatures of Utah’s Navajo Sandstones, (west coast features that most of New England’s youth cannot begin to fathom), this road should not be bypassed for the fast pace life on the freeways. The Blue Ridge Parkway reveals America’s beautiful landscape through its frequent roadside overlooks that peer out on some of our country’s oldest villages in Virginia. Separated from the bustling communities below, people traveling the BRP have the opportunity, for at least a few hundred miles, to feel as though they are meandering through a world that is still blessed by the restful charm of untouched nature. That being said, however, we are still talking about a road that we forcefully introduced to a once unsullied expansive forest!

Eventually our second day traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway became tedious, and more importantly, proved to be unfruitful when it came to the grease hunt. On more frequented roads, we were able to identify restaurants immediately off the highway where we could inquire   about grease with little delay to our schedule. We made one stop of the parkway in the town of Big Island, VA- and by town we mean a gas station/diner. A stop frequented by AT hikers, the diner had provided me with a heavenly break from hiking some two years ago. On our way to Big Island, I thought to myself, this was the place where some supposed Vietnam veterans (their wives denied the claims) tried to convince us, in southern accents so strong I thought I was hearing a different language, that some kind of hurricane was moving through. No hurricane made its way to Big Island, and I never saw those men again. However, the moment I stepped out of the car, I heard that same inaudible accent- something about southern Virginia seems to embody what most “yankees” envision the deep south to be. The southern culture is alive and well- the friendliness of the small town residents are a reminder of the community feel that the American Dream used to manifest... The diner had no grease, so we bought some diesel and regained our treads on the parkway. Mid day we realized that our grease search would be more successful on another road, any other road for that matter, so we we tried our luck on rt. 52 west to Damascus, Virginia. From hiking the AT I knew that Damascus, known to hikers and bikers as the friendliest town on the Appalachian trail, had plenty of restaurants that without a doubt fried an unhealthy amount of chicken and french fries. What I did not know from my time down south was that rt. 52 was a winding country road that seemingly made its way up, down and around every peak en route to the friendly Virginia town. Alyssa even thought she spotted Big Foot in the foggy mountain mist. Despite traveling at the sluggish speed of 10 mph through torrential rains for more miles than we can even recall, we eventually made it to Damascus where the folks at Quincy’s Pizza hooked us up with some of their waste vegetable oil. As usual, we pulled the car behind the restaurant and backed right up to the tank. With the exception of a dead raccoon, a half eaten rib eye steak, some whiskey bottles, a unicorn’s tail and some frogs hopping around, the grease looked pretty clean. We filtered a few gallons through our system to our reserve buckets and continued on to Gatlinburg, TN, home of the continuous roadside Disney Land of the deep south with ludicrous attractions as far as the eye can see... oh- and Great Smoky Mountains National Park. If you want to avoid traffic, never travel through Gatlinburg on the 4th of July- believe us, these people love their fireworks. The Sugarlands Visitor Center sits at the bottom of the Smoky’s Newfound Gap road, an uphill battle the Veggie Car would take on for its next twenty miles. It was eight o’clock when we filled out our backcountry camping passes, indicating that we would be sleeping at the Double Spring Gap Shelter, 2.5 miles south of Clingman’s Dome on the Appalachian Trail. We raced to Clingman’s Dome, the third highest point east of the Mississippi at 6,692 feet, in hopes of viewing the holiday’s fireworks from the peak’s observatory tower. Expecting the summit to be crowded with locals and tourists alike, we were surprised to walk up the spiraling walkway to find only three other people atop the observatory. As darkness set in, the fireworks sprouted from towns in every direction. Miles away and thousands of feet below, the shows looked to us like mere dots exploding below the tree line. We cooked pasta over our camping stove as more and more fireworks bloomed from far off locations. By 10:30, Alyssa and I had no intention or desire to walk nearly three miles to Double Spring Gap Shelter. We unpacked our sleeping bags and waited for any clouds to roll in that may have indicated a potential storm. The stars were killer, to say the least. Some time around 11:30 we heard faint noises from the bottom of the tower. Peering over the railing’s edge we noticed somebody walking up the spiral walkway. As they approached the middle of the concrete path, we yelled a welcoming ‘hello,’ a gesture that would have hopefully convinced a possible ranger that we did not have any intention of sleeping on the tower, despite the fact that under no circumstance would a ranger be oblivious to our sleeping bags that were laying only a few feet away. Instead, a ragged hiker yelled back to us. Tall and slender, the young man approached us in nothing but short cut black jean shorts, carrying a hiking stick with an American flag taped to it. We immediately sensed his frustration with the park’s infrastructure as he incessantly cursed the park, its rangers, the signs and trails, and most importantly, whatever god damn people put up those signs and designed those trails. Needless to say, Justin, as we came to know him by, hiked a few more miles than he had planned to. Justin rigged his hammock to the tower’s railings and prepared some food before slipping into his makeshift settlement. We too dosed off under the gleaming sky light of eastern Tennessee. Little did we know, that would not be the last time we would be in Justin’s company.

Day 4: On June 5th, we decided to take a day off from driving to explore the Smoky Mountains. After watching a beautiful sunrise, we hiked to Andrew's Bald. While we sat and enjoyed the view, we met Sargent Rock. He hung out with us for a while talking about lightweight camping gear and the serenity of being alone in nature. He also offered us some useful AT trail magic including food and information about an often overlooked shelter that we could stay at. Later in the morning, Kyle and I changed the pre-filter’s bag filter and the secondary filter with a little difficulty. Afterwards, we drove half way down the mountain to the Chimney Tops trailhead (a hike highly recommended to Kyle). The hike was beyond amazing!

At the top, we scurried up steep, smooth rocks with deadly drop-offs on both sides to reach the summit the common goer dared not to ascend. With a 360 degree view of the Smokys, Chimney Tops was surrounded by the defined mountains, rows of tree line chiseled like that of a body builder’s muscles, of the most visited national park in the United States. It was surely the most spectacular view we had seen thus far. What made the view even better was the delightful girls reading their bibles on the edge of the cliffs. It was reassuring to be atop Chimney Tops “with god on our side,” as Dylan himself would have put it. Despite the steep drop offs, we felt quite safe on the summit. Had Alyssa known the cliffs were teeming with rattlesnakes, tragedy would have likely ensued. Eventually the summer heat got to us. We raced back down the two mile trail to a swimming hole near the trailhead. We enjoyed the refreshing crystal clear water, whether leaping off a rock in the six foot pool or rinsing the veggie oil out of our hair under the picturesque waterfall.  That night, we headed to a shelter on the AT, where we met up with Justin again! We were entertained by our new friend’s life philosophy and crazy stories that he shared with us.

Day 5: In the morning, we headed down the mountain to Gatlinburg, TN, an overwhelmingly overstimulating town filled with more random attractions than Las Vegas. At an intersection, we switched over to veggie, but unlike the usual smooth switch, my car stopped dead. I tried to turn off and on again, but no luck. I tried switching it over to diesel and starting it again, but no luck either. We had to get out of the intersection, so I put it in neutral and rolled back into a side street. Since the power steering wasn’t working, it was one of the hardest arm workouts of my life! We pushed it to a nearby gas station and charged the battery, but it seemed like the battery was not the problem. After more troubleshooting, we got it started on diesel. I figured out that there was air in the veggie hoses from changing the secondary filter the day before. Since the secondary filter is the last thing the grease passes through before it enters the injectors, my car got the signal that I was out of fuel, and turned off. After some extra backflushing of diesel into the veggie tank, it switched over just fine. Scare #4, less than 5 days in, pretty frustrating, but not too significant.

Before we left Gatlinburg, we got an oil change and prayed that we’d make it to Nashville before another problem to pick up our friend Thomas at the Greyhound station. Once we picked up Thomas, we filled up our tank from our reserve and headed to St. Louis to stay with Kyle’s friend, Becca. We were unsuccessful in our search to find grease along the way in Illinois, and joked that we were really “illinoised.” Although we tried to make light of it, we were extremely disappointed to have to run on diesel, that being the first time on the trip that we had no vegetable oil.

Day 6: After staying the night on comfortable couches and stocking up on food (thanks to Becca and her extremely generous family) we started our hunt for grease in “The Valley” outside of St. Louis. We were so determined to find grease that we decided we weren’t leaving until we did. Since it was early in the morning, most restaurants were not open for us to ask if they had grease or not. In the dumpsters that we looked into, most of the grease was bad quality or too little to take. After some good luck tunes, we hit the jackpot with over twenty gallons at San Sai Japanese Restaurant. Kyle was still hungry for grease though, so we decided to split up. Kyle and Thomas dropped me off at Starbucks so I could work on this blog post while they searched in dumpsters for more five gallon containers and collected more grease. We left St. Louis with more grease than we had ever had in the car, but not without run-ins with cops and raccoons.

The past two days have been spent in Kansas and Colorado. We are currently waiting for a restaurant in Denver to finish their dinner rush so we can load up on fresh grease. We’ve met a lot of interesting people so far, and have had a few good laughs. Our next blog post may not be for another week, but you can follow us on Twitter (Veggie_Car) for more frequent updates. Pictures to come soon!

Countdown: 3 Days

It's crunch time. Three days until Kyle and I plan to hit the road in our trek from Massachusetts to California and back. The preparations that we still have to finish are daunting, but I'm hopeful that we'll be in Asheville, NC to see the fireworks on the fourth of July, as tentatively planned. If we're lucky enough, we'll make it to Clingman's Dome (Smoky Mtn. National Park), the third highest point east of the Mississippi, by nightfall to view the colorful spectacles from the mountain's panoramic observatory tower.

In these past few weeks, the veggie car has seen a lot of action. I've given presentations to nine elementary and middle school classes, three Andover High School lunches, and one crowd of Andover townspeople at the AHS Senior Exhibition night. Through these presentations so far, I have been trying to raise awareness about American energy consumption, fossil fuels, peak oil, and cleaner energy options, which I will elaborate on through this blog for the next month.

In case you'd like to read more about the veggie car's story thus far, two more local newspapers have featured my veggie car recently. Andover High School's Warrior Weekly published "Veggie Car Rules the Roads in Andover," and the Andover Townsman reported on the AHS Senior Exhibition night with "Design Your Own Course," and featured an article in the graduating seniors section called "AHS GRAD PROFILE: Youth Converts Car to Green Fuel."

Hot Off the Press!

The Veggie Car got its first press appearance in the Eagle Tribune today!

It was really cool meeting with reporter, Jon Phelps and photographer, Paul Bilodeau, last week. I'm so happy with how the article came out. It even includes an... um (pause)... sufficiently embarrassing... um... video... um (longer pause)

Greasy Inspiration

It only takes one person’s words or actions to motivate another, as I have learned firsthand. Five years ago, I was deeply influenced during a seventh grade assembly at Wood Hill Middle School. A young man stood on the stage and told us his name was Mike Parziale. In jeans and a T-shirt, he was casual in dress and tone, but what he told us fascinated me instantly. Parziale had spent the past year driving around the country in his grease-powered van, while creating a documentary for MTV. His innovative, seemingly impossible business, called Grease Not Gas, focused on converting diesel cars, trucks and buses to operate on vegetable oil. Since then, my lifestyle and aspirations have been forever changed.

Before I heard Parziale speak, I already had a natural instinct and passion for the environment and its protection. I have always loved planting strawberries and pumpkins, hiking in the White Mountains, and encouraging my family to recycle paper, plastic, metal and glass at home. Parziale introduced me to a new kind of recycling, though. Using cooking oil to fuel cars surely had not crossed my mind. When he told us that the first diesel engine operated on peanut oil, I was motivated to learn more about biofuel versus fossil fuel.

The more I researched the oil and coal industry, the more infuriated I became. How could a whole world have come to rely on such a dirty and dangerous fuel?

 Earlier this year, I used all the money I had saved to buy a 1986 Mercedes Benz 300 SDL from a local mathematics professor (and diesel enthusiast) who was initially horrified at my plans for his beloved sedan. With a lot of research and help from the Green Grease Monkeys in Boston, I was able to complete the conversion successfully.

Although this is an over-simplified explanation, the conversion process basically consisted of mounting an eighteen-gallon aluminum tank into the trunk to hold the filtered waste vegetable oil. A high-flow copper coil through which heated coolant passes runs through the interior of the tank. The coolant is pumped from the radiator, where it is eventually returned by a large rubber hose running under the car. The heated coolant raises the temperature of the viscous vegetable oil until it is hot, and thus, liquid enough to travel to the engine via an added fuel line. Since converted cars must still initially start on diesel fuel, the changeover from diesel to vegetable oil and back again is manually controlled by two switches on the dashboard, so I can switch over while I drive.

I feel so gratified about converting my car because I am able to cut down my fossil fuel use considerably and still have a convenient means of transportation. By using waste vegetable oil, I am fueling my car with a recycled, renewable energy source.

For the next month, I plan to visit the elementary and middle schools in my town to present my converted car and explain more about biofuel and the importance of relying less on fossil fuel. I can only hope that I influence a student in the way that Mike Parziale inspired me.