As it turns out this morning, upon hearing news of another "Snowmaggedon" Blizzard of the Century, Jimmy the Mechanic left a terse voicemail message - "you've gotta move the van". For those of you uninformed the van, aka The Big Blue Van, aka Big Blue has been our family people mover for the past 10 years and 124,000+ miles, which is roughly the length of time our triplets have been on this earth. Shortly before they were born we had just acquired a sweet little 'mini-van', and even more shortly after their arrival we realized were no longer a 'mini-family'. This fact was confirmed by Lieutenant Crowley of the Brockton Police who - upon installing three additional car seats across the back of the minivan - stated in a uniform, police-like manner "I can get these seats in, but I don't know how you or your wife are gonna get all those babies in and out of them". And with that I began the hastily inspired and awe-inducing task of finding a larger, safe, comfortable vehicle for our new (expanded) nuclear family which at that time also included a rather large, sweet black labrador retriever named Bronco.
Most people come up with easy answers when you tell them you need a vehicle for six. They often begin with "Suburban" or "SUV", but fail to account for the fact that A) my wife and I are both over 6'2" tall B) we usually have at least one (now two) large dogs in addition to our four children and C) a trip with all six of us, plus animal(s), plus luggage stretches the limits of even conventional civilian automobiles. Not so with the Big Blue Van. I found Big Blue on the lot of one of my car dealer customers who was selling his business. He had about six or eight 'leftovers', which in car dealer parlance meant they were new but unpurchased from a prior year. The guy buying the dealership didn't want them and they were headed to wholesale auction. I negotiated to add a Class 2 hitch (which we have never once used, and has the rusted patina of the Batmobile's fiery exhaust), automatic remote start (which the kids masterfully use each morning before school) and wrapped it up for $29,000. Big Blue had a sticker price just south of $50,000 but, due to the circumstances of the sale of the dealership and the 'leftover' nature of the vehicle, they could not have been happier to get her off the lot, and I could not have been happier to drive it away.
BBV is by pedigree a 2002 Chevy Express 1500 truck chassis with a Regency package. At the time, this meant a high end conversion consisting of leather reclining captain's chairs for driver, front passenger and two second row passengers, as well as a third row bench that opened to a bed, with cargo room behind (and below), a 20" flat square TV with DVD, rear speakers and blinds on all rear windows. Part 'Love Ma-cheen', part party wagon, Big Blue has an extended height roof that, coupled with her brilliant blue color, would make Marge Simpson jealous. It's small block Chevy 302 V8 engine was voted one of the best engines of the 20th century, and would whirr happily along any interstate on the Eastern seaboard at a brisk 75-80 miles per hour while chugging a gallon of gas every 15-18 miles depending on how many non-Masshole drivers you needed to power past. And today, sadly, I may have driven her for the last time.
Big Blue had been 'resting' at Jimmy's shop since Christmas break, when her "Service Engine Soon" indicator urgently moved from a steady 'hey check me out' to a rapid 'OMG - there's something wrong'. This coincided with a call from Kristina who was embarking on what would have been for the BBV a short 3 hour jaunt down 95 to Milford CT to visit The Cousins. A Triple A tow later, she was sitting in Jimmy's shop with the interior motor cowling removed for - in my recollection - the first time. "It doesn't look good. It's gonna be hundreds of dollars in labor for me to just get a handle on it. With the leaky intake manifold and the tranny slipping, you may want to start looking around for another vehicle". Imagine a doctor - with your loved one hooked up to a respirator - telling you to 'start looking around'. I was devastated. In short, Big Blue is a rolling, air-conditioned, stereophonic time capsule of one of the best decades of my life. The bumper is rusting through, causing the "Wilson Lake - Acton, ME" loon sticker to flap away as if it wants to join it's subject matter in the chilly North Atlantic. A round, almost completely faded magnet still faintly proclaims that "We (heart) our triplets". Polar Caves, Taco Boy, Hilton Head...they're all fading too as I write this, through tears. I guess I'm afraid that when she goes - taking Folly Beach, Niagara Falls (and our now infamous border crossing) with her - she may take those memories, and thousands of others with her too.
So as I slowly chugged up Montello St today, the unsteady clicking of her cylinders now brightly snapping with the engine cowling removed, the freezing January air blowing up from the roadway was punctuated every few seconds with a loud "POP-POP" as she warned "I can't do this much longer". Melancholy overtook my fear of a piston angrily shooting a cylinder rod through the upper manifold in a final, lethal blast of defiance as I tuned the Sirius radio to "Classic Hits" and caught the beginning of "Highway Star" by Deep Purple.
Nobody gonna take my car, I'm gonna race it to the ground
Nobody gonna beat my car, it's gonna break the speed of sound
Ooh it's a killing machine it's got everything
Like a driving power, big fat tires, everything
I was thankful for the slow traffic. I didn't have to push the accelerator, as I did so many trips to Maine. Or during one memorable return from South Carolina, when despite Kristina's offers to "switch off", I drove the whole way- stopping for gas and rest rooms. Comfortably buzzed on coffee and Monster energy drinks, satellite radio faded to the front speakers so the kids could sleep, I pulled onto our street on a sunny Sunday morning after a tidy 16 hours of Big Blue Bliss.
Nobody gonna take my head I got speed inside my brain
Nobody gonna steal my head now that I'm on the road again
Ooh I'm in heaven again I've got everything
Like a moving ground, throttle control and everything
Whew... ten years of the triplets, (plus Annika, 22 months their senior). Grocery stores, shopping malls, animal farms, hikes...from having to put on eight little socks, buckle them all into carriers and secure the carriers into the car seats. To "Go get in the van", when all four of them would dutifully file to their self-assigned seats. (I distinctly remember the triplet Dad who told me I would rejoice at that milestone and like most wisdom of grizzled parents of multiple, he was correct). Bronco's passing. Big Blue was my Magic Bus, some life glue that held it all together during what I thought at the time was the most tempestuous time of my life. Now looking back it could arguably be the best decade. And now here I was, chugging her towards a (potential) final resting place, coming unglued.
Trying to replace her has already been a journey of another kind, one filled with fear (what if we have constant problems with another vehicle? we can't afford a new one!), regret (we should have changed the oil more often), uncertainty (how will another vehicle work for us?) and doubt (do we bother trying to overhaul/repair her?). I've been (online) to Phoenix, Houston, Pensacola, Cleveland, Craigslist, eBay, Cars.com, and physically visited the rare dealers who specialize in "conversion vans" (the name doesn't convey how awesome these vehicles really are). I could fix her, and the $9,000 or 10,000 would be recouped, and be cheaper than any therapy I may need. The jury is out on replacing that bumper, though. I know the rust will soon push most of the stickers off, the way in the coming 10 years the kids will get their own licenses, and push off from the nest. Me? For now, I'm still holding on to Big Blue.
I love it, I need it, I seed it
Eight cylinders all mine
Alright hold tight I'm a highway star
