What I drive

  It's funny how the vehicle we drive defines us.  The cute little collage student in the bright green VW bug.  The aging CEO trying to regain his youth in the red sports car.  The soccer mom in the minivan.  I've always driven vans.  I had a mini van once.  I bought it only because parking my full sized one was almost impossible in the New York area.  To me a van or at least one without Bobs Plumbing written on it says Traveler.
  My current van says "There goes the neighborhood." and makes you want to start humming the theme song from the Beverly Hillbillies.  It's 19 feet long and 8 feet high.  You can still see the words Ice Cream Truck stenciled on the fiberglass roof.  It's grey, light grey mostly where I attempted to make it look better by painting it with spray cans.  I never finished the passengers side.  That still has spots of black primer.  There are ghosts of the stars that used to embellish it showing through.  The passengers side mirror has a mind of its own and is usually in a position better suited for viewing the car in front of me.
  If it were human the van would be old enough to drink.  Old enough to have married and have a kid in school for that matter.  Not as old as me thank goodness.  She has lower miles on her odometer than most her age and my best guess is that she sat ignored in a field somewhere for a long time.  I don't see a beat up old truck, I see a diamond in the rough.
  Oh the plans I have for my old van.  It's the perfect size for a camper for the Poodles and I.  I've already put the sofa bed in.  Cabinets over the bed to store my clothing.  The grooming tub will be my sink, the table my place to dine.  She still needs a good cleaning and a lot of paint but we're headed in the right direction.   No matter how she looks, it's how she runs that matters.  The engine is strong, the tires are good, she's ready to go.   And one day we will.

 The day I bought it.

 6 months later, One side almost done.