Playing Taps for Van

The weekend went by way too quickly.  Most of the time, I was reading for classes.
 
For the Math class, I am to ask questions and take notes about what I am reading, then come into the scheduled time period well-prepared, alongside doing the assigned problems.  Not too hard, but very time-consuming.

For Ed Psyche, I had to watch videos on a certain website and answer pertinent questions posted on the WebCT.  It’s a good thing that within the past year I have learned so much about the Internet.  Thanks for all the Tech Support, housemates!

After church on Sunday was a potluck lunch with ‘summer fare’ (foods that did not need to be heated nor use utensils).  Followed by an informational meeting about some changes in policy that need to be updated to comply with insurance.

The major impact of the weekend was that we had to play TAPS for the van.  See Husband’s post over at Decrepit Old Fool.

This vehicle has been in the family since it was close to, if not brand new.  We inherited it when my father-in-law passed away in January 1991.  The summer before then, he had been the housesitter for the folks next door, so we had had him all to ourselves for almost 3 weeks.  He took me grocery shopping in it, and I loved being able to put all the stuff so easily in the back. 
When Dad died unexpectedly, my brother-in-law took care of the funeral home stuff, and then brought the van and cremains to us across country from the west coast in the dead of winter. 
I was leaving the building where I worked, walked into about 4 inches of snow, and looked up to see a man other than Dad getting out of that van.  Very disconcerting.
I refused to drive it until April, it just didn’t seem right, like it was borrowed, not owned.  It also feels so Huge to me, even though it turns easily.

The following summer, we went on a vacation to see friends in Ontario.  The cargo room was great for all the gear a family of 5 needs to leave town for awhile.

In 1993, Husband drove us to the west coast for another family vacation.  I’d rather let him do the driving, and oldest son rode shotgun because he’s good at reading maps.

For the most part, that vehicle was for use by the mister.  One time when he was stopped at a railroad crossing, someone hit him from behind because her car’s brakes had failed.  Her whole front grill was crunched, but the rear bumper of the van got only a slight ‘tilt’ which remains there to this day.
Lately, youngest son used it for hauling equipment for the band.  Amplifiers, microphone stands, guitars.  It still was great for groceries.

When its brakes failed, I am so glad it was being driven by the best driver of the family.  I don’t know what I would have done if I had just kept going into the intersection after the light turned red.  A clear head during bad times, that’s one of the first impressions I ever had of him, and one I appreciate to this day.
He called to have it towed to our usual mechanic place. 
They pronounced it greatly expensive to repair.

Saturday morning, we went over and cleared the rubbish out.  A big van like that just seems to ride around full of clutter, always a little room for more.
The mechanic is thinking of doing personal work on it and using it to go out to the lake for fishing.  Whatever he wants to do, we called it quits and next step would be towing to the scrapheap.

Being down to just the silver car means much more communication about pick-up and drop-off times.
Youngest son’s car has a place to park in the driveway now. 
We are using our bicycles too.  With the price of fuel going up, transportation is being considered from many, many angles.
~~love and Huggs, Diane