“They huddle in cities because a man at sea, in the desert, or mountains has time to know himself, to examine what he was… So, they stayed in their cities, knowing they could not stand to ever really look at themselves.”
— *Louis L’Amour, Sitka
Alaska Adventure Beckons
Date: 5/18/01
Alaska! That’s where I’m headed next. What do you think of that? Just before leaving, someone knocked on my door, wanting to buy “Uncle Buck,” my trusty Grand Marquis, for $300. Why is it still in my yard? Did I blow the deal by asking for $325 instead of $300? They said they’d be back in 20 minutes—it’s been two hours now. I can’t sit around waiting; I have things to do to get ready for this trip.
Uncle Buck Chronicles – A Quick Flashback
Goodbye to Tahoe, Hello to Alaska
May 18, 2001, marked the beginning of the end for my Tahoe days. I was setting off for the rugged wilds of Alaska with dreams of tackling Denali’s challenging terrain. I thought I’d return triumphantly to Tahoe one day, but for now, my focus was on Alaska. I had to say goodbye to the life I’d built, including the cozy two-bedroom cabin I shared with my friend Rulow, who mostly stayed with her boyfriend, leaving the place as my little haven.
This cabin, tucked away by the serene shores of Lake Tahoe, felt like my personal paradise. A charming pier stretched out into the lake, giving me the perfect spot to relax with a few “bowls” while soaking in Tahoe’s beauty. At only $300 a month, this Lake Forest cabin was unbeatable.
I couldn’t help but reminisce about the offer I’d received for Uncle Buck, or “UB,” as my friends called it. They named it after John Candy’s iconic character in Uncle Buck. UB was the ultimate cruising vessel—a beast that could handle anything, from cross-country road trips to saving me from two feet of fresh snow in Sequoia National Park. Leaving the keys in UB wasn’t unusual in our ski town, but it was a mistake that cost me the car. Here’s how it all went down.
The Night Uncle Buck Disappeared
Leaving keys in the car was normal in Tahoe; nobody was expected to steal your wheels. But a few weeks earlier, I had a run-in with some suspicious characters. I’d just returned from three nights of solo camping in Desolation Wilderness when two guys approached me, asking if I had any weed to sell (my mistake for smoking a J on the way down). I gave them a bud from my stash, not thinking much of it. But my car—a massive Grand Marquis with a white Yakama Space case and a bike rack—must have left an impression.
I believe these guys later saw UB parked across from Sunnyside Restaurant, found the keys, and decided to take her for a joyride. Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s my theory. With all my friends out of town and little help from the police, I was left carless, using my bike and thumb to get around.
Farewell Tahoe: Tahoe Days and My 30th Birthday Adventure
Without UB, I was stuck but undeterred. I was gearing up to kick off my 30th birthday adventure—a plan to hike a section of the Pacific Crest Trail, tackle the John Muir Trail, and summit Mount Whitney. (Spoiler: After the adventure, I got a 1981 diesel Rabbit named Bugsy that handled snow and rugged terrain like a champ. Maybe she’ll get her own post one day.)
Uncle Buck’s Mysterious Return
How did UB make her way back into my life? Almost eight months to the day after she disappeared, I got a call from an impound yard in Reno, Nevada. They asked if my 1988 Grand Marquis had been stolen. I confirmed it was taken back in August, and they replied, “We have it in our tow yard, and if you don’t come get it, you’ll owe more than the $425 currently due for storage.”
$425! I was broke. My last paycheck from a ski tech job had been held due to a bizarre monoboard incident (story for another time). I’d recently started as a laborer at a construction company, but I needed to buy tools for the job. So, I called my buddy, Pink’um, and he drove me to Reno to rescue UB.
When I finally saw UB at the tow yard, I was stunned. She looked almost brand new, with shiny rims and a fresh wax job, but the white Yakama Space case and bike rack were gone. Inside, I found a “parting gift”—a tool belt with a heavy waffle hammer and some tools. It was an ironic twist: I’d paid to get UB back with money I needed for tools, and now UB had become my tool supplier!
I had UB back, and though she was newly pimped out with a radio and cassette player, there was one hitch: she had no license plate and wasn’t registered or insured. Pink’um tailed me closely for the nerve-wracking drive from Reno to Tahoe, and we made it.
Tahoe Farewell: Last Moments with Uncle Buck
UB made it home, but her road trips ended there. Both UB and Bugsy were donated and towed away the day before I left for Alaska. Ah, the memories of Tahoe days—they were one adventure after another, full of wild experiences and life lessons. As I left for Alaska, I could only wonder what surprises awaited me in the Last Frontier.
Have you ever had an unforgettable adventure or a road trip car that took on a life of its own? Share your story in the comments below—I’d love to hear about it! And stay tuned for tales of my Alaskan adventure.
