They’re Kucinich’s Buoys on the Bus

There’s no shortage of glibly named campaign vehicles designed to deliver a candidate from town to town, bringing his message to the people: John Kerry’s Real Deal Express, Joe Lieberman’s Integrity One, John Edwards’ Real Solutions Express.

But those guys have nothing on Dennis J. Kucinich’s magic bus.

Launched by a group called the Democreation Project, the 35-foot 1976 Crown school bus is plastered inside with revolutionary stickers and contains a stove and sink, a cache of blankets, rows of makeshift bunk beds -- and 14 young passengers.

The psychedelic behemoth creeps into the parking lot of Susty’s Cafe, which specializes in “radical vegan food,” as an assemblage of knit hats and scarves attached to bodies tumbles out. Fairly oozing with idealism, the bus is meant to be noticed, its hulking form and brazenly loud paint job commandeering the ice-studded lot.

“People are ready for something new in this country,” said Henze Marvin, 21, of Topanga, one of the group’s organizers, who has since returned to Dominican University in San Rafael, Calif. “The collision of art and politics has the strength to engage and awaken America.”

And that’s what the artists and activists living aboard this throwback bus have been trying to do on their pilgrimage from Santa Cruz to New Hampshire over the last month: promote civic engagement one young person at a time. Not an official part of the Kucinich campaign, the bus riders are vocal backers of the Ohio congressman and have appeared at a number of campaign events with, or on behalf of, the candidate.

They’ve organized concerts and visited colleges across the state, cooked vegan pasta in pots bungee-corded to the stove and shivered their first night spent in New Hampshire. They slept on the unheated bus as the temperature hovered around zero.

“I didn’t know if I’d make it,” said Dara Blumenhein, 25, a photographer from Boulder, Colo. That long, chilly night was so frigid her computer stopped working because it literally froze. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” said Blumenhein, clad in a furry black scarf, camouflage pants and electric-blue down-filled slippers.

A makeshift desk with a couple of power strips attached serves as a rolling office, with copies of the Almanac of American Politics and Slate’s Field Guide to the Candidates jammed into a plastic bin. A woven bag stuffed with T-shirts and a jester’s hat is the lost and found.

The bus, which runs on clean-burning biodiesel organic fuel, has already been visited by National Public Radio, CNN’s “Crossfire” and the BBC.

Even when buoyed by their political hopes, after a month of rattling along back roads together, the bus’ inhabitants can feel a little confined.

“Sometimes we feel trapped and in each other’s personal space. That’s when we just get out of the bus and take a walk,” said Sky King, 19, a Santa Monica College student and spoken-word artist from Los Angeles.

The riders hold a daily “weather check” for everyone to share worries and problems; a “vibe watcher” helps to quell snappish mood swings and frayed tempers.

“It’s really important that democracy begins with ourselves and that peace begins in the bus,” said Michael Bedar, 25, of Patagonia, Ariz., wearing a giant furry hat, a pair of sandals and a “Vote Peace Vote Kucinich” T-shirt.

But all the hardships -- ice spreading across the bus’ ceiling, sporadic showering, 700-mile-a-day stretches where someone has to stay awake to chat with Dylan Huber, the driver, and wipe the condensation from the windshield -- are worth it.

The bus crew is drawn to Kucinich’s progressive platforms, the most left-leaning of the Democratic field. He supports pulling U.S. troops out of Iraq and letting the U.N. take over, and says he would create a Cabinet-level Department of Peace. He advocates universal health care, slashing the Pentagon budget and spending more on education. He also supports legalizing medical marijuana and making the District of Columbia a state.

“We were all willing to take a pretty big leap of faith and go across the country for this guy that we completely believe in,” said Jenny Wilkie, 23, of Santa Cruz, the project’s media coordinator.

“When I came on the bus I couldn’t even pronounce Kucinich.... I never thought a candidate like him could exist,” Blumenhein said. Some of his platforms are spray-painted on the back of the bus: “End patriot act, pro-choice.”

Kucinich has been equally taken aback at the devotion of his earthy followers.

After the Jan. 11 Brown and Black Forum debate in Des Moines, some of the bus riders joined in an impromptu drumming session. They caught the Ohio congressman’s attention, and he stepped aboard the cozy, cluttered vehicle.

“I could fly to New Hampshire on my own power after seeing this.... Wow!” Kucinich said, gaping at the young people beaming back at him. “Hey, you know what, Willie Nelson, eat your heart out. This is fantastic! I am going to call Willie right now and tell him about this.”

The bus passengers are conscious of the 1960s resonance of their undertaking, but they embrace the “hippie” label.

“Because many of our parents are baby boomer hippies, a lot of us were raised with these ideals that we heard our parents talking about,” Wilkie said.

The group is too busy drumming, dancing in the streets and urging young people to vote to worry about pundits’ dire predictions for Kucinich’s performance in the Democratic primaries. His poll numbers barely register, and as of December he had raised about $4.5 million -- far less than most of the others in the Democratic pack.

Still, his unwavering antiwar stance and innovative ideas have garnered him a small, though fervent, band of followers.

“The important thing is that [Kucinich] is being heard,” Blumenhein said.

The rolling community, running on renewable fuel and sticking to a vegetarian (nearly vegan) diet, spreads a message Kucinich and his supporters believe in. And living on society’s fringe seems a lot like Kucinich.

“I think this is a reflection of Dennis,” King said.