“On the bright side you can go on long trips for very little money. I pretty much spend my summers driving around in the van. Two years ago myself and five dudes all drove from the northeast coast to the tip of the northwest coast and back again. We burned over 700 gallons of veggy oil and spent little over $50 on diesel. Veg’ oil is also easy on the environment compared to diesel. It’s a renewable fuel. You’re not sucking dinosaur skeletons out of the ground. It’s not a super toxic fuel like diesel. Vegetable oil is food, you can eat that. But I can’t notice driving on veggy oil compared to diesel. At full roast on the throttle it has a little less RPM and the miles per gallon are slightly less than diesel. Some say veggy oil helps your motor, because it’s an oil it lubricates the engine. You can run a diesel engine off motor oil or even transmission fluid. Some old diesel mechanics run their diesel engines off transmission fluid to help clean the engine as it has detergents in. The diesel motor is a beast. Especially the older Mercedes ones with all mechanical pumps, they’re super rugged and simple. They just burn it up.” He says nodding in admiration for his beloved German diesel engine. Sat in the back of the van rests a huge 100 gallon oil tank, designed and welded by Clint himself. The tank is full of oil that just the day before was deepfrying tortilla chips for the good people of Denver. The large tank doubles as a heated bench for the passengers, human or dog. During a long drive the tank becomes hot enough to cook an egg on. The thought of that tank rupturing in an accident and a hot oil spill deep frying all six of us did cross my mind as I sat on it with a stack of foam mats so not to burn my legs. I simply forgot about it and turned my attention to the veneer of grease that covers my clothes and skin, that gave us all a familiar chip shop aroma. The large tank is just one of three fuel tanks adding to a maze of pipes, pumps, valves and filters all required to run the van off vegetable oil. The dash and floor below the driver’s seat is cluttered with an array of levers, buttons and switches, that all have to be pushed or turned in a long set sequence at every start and stop. The veg oil modifications are a piece of robust scrap metal engineering, without a second thought of aesthetics or elegance. The modifications are all Clint‘s own design that he has evolved over years of learning the hard way. “I first heard about veg’ oil in high school and I almost didn’t believe it. I did some research and it began to make sense so I thought screw it. I bought an old Ford Econoline van for real cheap. I spent all my time trying to get the dam thing to run off veg’ oil. I’d constantly be broken down by the side of road and crawling under the van. It was always a choice; fix it or be stranded. You can either spend a load of money to pay some dude to fix your car, who won’t care and won’t do a good job, or you can buy the manual and fix it yourself. You’ll learn and save money. I learnt everything about vans by tearing that thing apart and trying to rebuild it.”
From the jet powered water pistol on the bonnet aimed permanently at passers by on the sidewalk, to the windows Clint hand cut from sheets of flexi glass, there is not a single square inch of the van that Clint hasn’t modified. When a new larger engine didn’t fit he welded new bracket mounts, when his larger Dodge rims didn’t fit he drilled the correct Mercedes hole pattern into them on a vertical mill. Every bolt, panel, bearing and nut has been taken out, swapped or replaced. Other more cosmetic additions have come along way. Stickers have been slapped on, at some point a deer skull and antlers were stuck on the front grill, a golden BMX racing trophy figure is screwed to the bonnet, a racoon tail hangs from the rear roof. On the inside helmets, a catapult made with an inner tube, drying swimming shorts and dirty flowery curtains all hang from string on the of windows. The front dash is awash with various small screwdrivers, state maps, a jar of BBs, pens, suntan lotion and mouthwash. The rear of the van has no seatbelts, just a fold down wooden bench and the fuel tank for comfort. The floor is cluttered with camping stoves, skateboards and bags that sit on various carpet off cuts. The entire van reads like a story book of all the previous trips, gaining a new modification and accessories with every journey.
" I just roll up, pump it in and roll out with a tank full of free fuel"
The van has slowly and unintentionally diverged further away from the look of a conventional vehicle and into the lawless, free spirited realms of a Mad Max movie. Despite the sinister deer skull on the grill it’s a character that resonates with people. Whether it be a convoy of leather clad hogs on the highway or pedestrians on the street, the van attracts attention. “People are stoked on the van, it spreads smiles coast to coast. We get a lot of these,” Clint says pumping his fist in the air. “We get that or peace signs. People see the van, the bikes on back, five shirtless dudes and a dog, and they look like they’re thinking, ‘Yeah they’re doing it – cool.’ People seem almost envious of living that freedom of being on the road and spending each day not knowing what’s going to happen.” Live Free Or Die Beside the deer skull on the front grill sits a battered license plate. Above the registration number it bears the New Hampshire state motto – ‘Live Free Or Die.’ They are the words of General John Stark, a soldier in the American war of independence who fought for freedom from English colonial rule, and famously said, in full, ‘live free or die, death is not the worst of evils’. When I saw the encryption on the number plate I knew I had found my title. If there was one word to describe both Clint’s life and the trip it would be ‘free’, and in every sense of the word. The van was given to Clint in exchange for some welding
Clint Reynolds
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