| The MYSTERY MACHINE by Anthony Rain Starez |
| Being in my teens in the
mid to late ‘70s, I saw the popularity of vans rise and fall by the ‘80s. During
the ‘rise’ many of my friends were buying vans, even my mother’s boyfriend
at that time. It was the coolest thing to pull up in a tricked van with shag carpet on the
dashboard, Led Zeppelin blaring and chrome Craiger wheels shiny and wide. My mother’s
boyfriend, Griff, was a brilliant mechanic and van decorator, and he had a long Dodge van
themed out to be a ship with nautical airbrush paintings on the outside and dashboard,
rope-wrapped steering wheel, wooden bar and comfortable bed in back. I had the pleasure to
drive that rolling ship, at times, and I must say ‘the feeling of riding high above
the traffic while navigating that modern day land-schooner as exhilarating for a
17-year-old dude.
I bought a van in 1982 out of necessity because of the car accident that landed me in a chair with wheels, and by that time the glory days of vans had faded. And although my van was your most basic cargo Ford E150 van without any style, over the years it became my baby. It was a few years before I could drive it, having to obtain a loan for disabled driving equipment before I could proclaim a part of my freedom back. Almost 27 years later, after much attention to making my Mystery Machine more comfortable, my van is still, essentially, my freedom. That van of mine has been incredibly dependable, and while there’s no concentrated theme, it carries a certain motif, and often people stare at it, like they would stare at a horse.
I call my van the Mystery Machine because it defies the odds, shatter stereotypes, and remain strong against the erosion of time. My van is me, and I am my van! |
