A few weeks ago, we drove to visit Chris at his college. It’s a six to seven hour drive.
You may find it strange that we chose to take the van after what happened weeks before, but it was fixed and fine and ready to go.
We packed it full of our belongings and hit the road.
It was a long drive. I had just finished a seven hour shift at my job, so I was revved and exhausted at the same time. Sadly, I didn’t get to see Chris until the next day.
I spent Sunday with him, visiting his college and his church, and meeting so many people that I hardly remembered anyone’s name, but they were all so nice to me.
We could only stay a short while (due to how incredibly expensive hotels are near his college), but there was a minor problem when my dad dropped me off at Chris’ church Sunday morning: the van wouldn’t shift to reverse.
To clarify, it wouldn’t reverse back at the hotel, before we arrived at his church. I suggested pushing it out of the spot. So at 8:15 on Sunday morning, I hopped into the drivers seat and steered while my dad pushed the van out of the spot.
We went around 35mph but eventually made it to the church. My dad cruised his way back to the hotel, arriving twenty minutes later. Chris arranged for me to get a ride back to the hotel that night, and my parents asked for the best mechanic nearby.
Monday afternoon, we cruised the van back to the church to pick up Chris and get directions and made our way to the mechanic.
We were there for a hefty hour or so (long enough to take 1,000+ selfies) . . .
. . . before it was decided. It wasn’t worth paying so much money to repair the van. My parents made a bunch of calls, and eventually sold it to the mechanic there. Chris nudged me, engrossed in watching my Dad and the mechanic go back and forth on prices, and murmured, “your dad’s in action!”
Soon, my dad was picking a rental car, and we were unloading belongings.
[Random video alert!^]
As we went through the process of taking every piece of Koontz-evidence from the van, I suddenly turned to the door and smacked it with my fingers and exclaimed “bad car!” This gave me a great deal of satisfaction, so I said it quite a bit.
Soon, it was time to say goodbye, and we all piled into the back of the rental. We headed to lunch and after, said our last goodbyes to Chris.
The time went by so fast.
So we no longer have a van, and it is different. It’s taken about a week for this fact to sink in. I’ll see vans driving down the road, or drive home from work and wonder where the family’s gone, because the van isn’t parked in our garage.
The van lasted us probably more than eight years, though. Add in that this is the van we drove to New York and back, almost exactly a year ago, it’s been a good car.
So yes. I’m sorry van, for calling you bad. You were a good car. I take it back.
Also, I can’t find my Kindle. Lord, please tell me I didn’t leave it in the van/rental car/or hotel room. .