Good Bye Old Friend

Well, I have come to the sad conclusion that it is time for my old, paint peeling, van to go away. The guys at the fire department tease me that it looks like a "Chester Molester" van.  The creepy old van, with the curtains drawn, that drives down your street and your mom warns you as children not to go around.  It is no longer a dependable ride for me since it quits running sporadically when I'm driving down the road. Coasting to a stop along the freeway is sometimes a hair raising adventure as you dodge thru traffic trying to reach the safe side of the road. So far the engine has always started right back up again.  But not being a mechanic myself and after spending several hundred dollars already at a couple different mechanic shops we have not been able to resolve the problem. I have had a window van during most of my adult life. All through the years the van has carried my kids and their many friends, along with all their necessities, to Beaver Hollow hundreds of times. My van has served as sort of my support vehicle through all these many past years adventures. Loaded down with my 2 fire gear bags, a swift water rescue bag, a search and rescue gear bag, change of fresh dry cloths bag, plus the different bikes I rode, snow shoes and other paraphernalia I have stored under the seats. Jammed under the seats was food, water, tents, and a first aid kit along with a spare tire and jack. When I got tired I could move enough stuff around to clear a place on the back bed for myself and my ever present dog and still have room to take a nap, semi comfortably. A few years ago when I still lived in Cave Junction I was setting at my house, minding my own business...


...11:00 at night I was slowly drifting off, watching some T.V. before bed when I noticed the brake lights on my van flicker on through the window. My van was always parked out front, facing towards the fire station, faithfully waiting for a fire call to come in. I get to the front porch just in time to see my van lurching out my gravel driveway throwing stones at me as it sped away. Now here I have this reputation of being this "ruthless Baxter" of a fireman and all I can verbalize during the commotion was "hey", "HEY" with my hand waving in the air as my van speeds out my own driveway and heads up Caves Highway. My Grandma would have been so disappointed in me if she knew that I didn't get a least one "You Dirty Bastard" in before the vehicle left my property. Immediately I jumped in my spare ride and headed out the driveway in hot pursuit. Or as hot a pursuit as an old Forest Service colored Ford Ranger could pursue. Back in the day the old van still had some zip left in her and she quickly left me in the dust.

Stolen, some "sumbitch" just stole my precious van with all her cargo in it. In my mind I was still living in the age where you didn't even lock your house. Hell, leaving my van keys on the floor next to the drivers seat was common place me. For when that quick get-away was needed when the emergency call came down. I had given up running the block to the fire station a few years earlier. When I noticed after trying to climb into the drivers seat of the fire engine I couldn't speak on the radio for a few minutes because I was too out of breath from the exertion. For a moment I paused there along the road looking up the highway urning for my van, somewhat bewildered, now who do you call when you have an EMERGENCY? ...  Oh yeah 911.

A few days go by, everybody in the valley that we knew was on the lookout for my stolen old van. Fire guys, telephone repairmen, my mom's friends, guys I worked with at the mill.  I think the cops were even aware it was gone too. Out of the blue I get this call from the Illinois Valley High School office. I say, Hello? "Bill why is your van parked out on our football field", the kind voice on the other end conveys. Ahhh? "My van is parked on your football field?  How long has it been there?" I manage to mutter.  Ohh two, maybe three days the receptionist replies. As I dart out of the house leaving the phone still dangling from the cord and head that way in my now trusty, nobody even wants to steal, Ford Ranger. Of coarse everything was missing from inside the old girl, fuel was all gone too, a few things were broken inside side but ahhh "I got you back baby"  My homeowners insurance covered most of my loses but I have never since owned as nice of a mountain bike (Interloc) as I lost that horrible night.

I’m going to miss not having the old girl around. $500 or the best offer. She has served me very well, at least to this point.  We'll see if the new travel trailer serves me as well.  I know it's harder to turn around for sure.