
I recently came across this image on a forum, and was confronted by a wave of happy memories. Actually, I was confronted by a wave of terrifying memories that time has turned into happy feelings. You see, I have spent my entire life taking inappropriate equipment to out-of-the-way places. Sometimes I’ve done this because of abject ignorance. Sometimes it has been due to ridiculous overconfidence. Long ago, it was simply due to missing most of my frontal lobe. Often it is simply budgetary constraints that won’t allow for the proper equipment.
Making a Living at it
My first real job as a teenager was delivering frozen food for a guy that I went to church with. Looking back on him, Charlie was a kindred spirit in that he was running a business on a shoestring budget, and tried desperately to fly under the licensing and regulatory radar by using entirely inappropriate equipment and employees for his delivery service.
His delivery staff consisted of a sixteen year old Al, his son, who was seventeen, and a seventy something year old retiree. I actually don’t know how old the retiree was, but he looked well into his seventies. Most of his teeth were gone. He weighed in at around 65 pounds, and his skin was that dark, wrinkly red so common among old farm hands in the south. The delivery fleet consisted of one refrigerator truck, one standard size van, and one suburban only used in an absolute emergency.
I drove the van. It, like the other vehicles in the fleet, had absolutely no markings of any kind to denote that it belonged to a business. It was all white, and contrary to frozen food delivery convention, it had no air conditioning. This fact meant that when you took it on a delivery run you broke every speed limit on every road.
Charlie was terrible at giving directions, and I was (and am) terrible at navigating. I never went on a new route without getting hopelessly lost for at least an hour. This job provided me with my first real experience of independence and growth. I had no cell phone, no maps, no GPS, nor anything else that most of us rely upon to navigate these days. I had a boss that couldn’t give directions, a plain white van, and no respect, whatsoever, for my own mortality. I came very, very close to dying in that van several times. Once, in particular, I learned that semis make wide turns, and that truckers are much better drivers than I am.
There I was, doing 85 down a two lane highway when the truck in front of me put on his right turn signal and got into the left lane. I, who had been driving any vehicle at all for only a few months, naturally assumed that the driver in front of me was an idiot. I pulled into the right lane and prepared to blow past him. It was at this point that he started to make his wide right turn, and I realized the error of my ways. I slammed on my brakes and skidded to a stop some ten feet past the rear end of his trailer. It turns out that stupidity had been my savior. If I had stayed left and not tried to pass, I would have run the van right through the rear end of the trailer. Apparently, the van didn’t have brakes either.
Trippin
I have more cross country trips under my belt already than a lot of people accumulate in a lifetime. I’ve really taken the old mantra of “See America first” to heart. I love to drive. I love to see and experience new things. Every time I make a trip like that, it is an adventure.
The first time I did an East to West run was a real eye opener. I was going from Michigan to Idaho in early October. I had done a winter in Michigan once already, and it simply never occurred to me that winter comes earlier in the mountains. On the morning of my last day of driving, I awoke in Laramie Wyoming to find snow flurries. I was elated. This seemed like the perfect way to start my upcoming winter in Idaho.
The elation began to wear off when I realized that I had absolutely no winter gear. I had rented a storage unit before leaving Michigan so that I could leave all of my bulky, heavy things there. For some reason, my winter gear seemed too big and bulky to bring with me. Heck, I’d be back in Michigan by January anyhow, that was when it really started to get cold.
What I did have was a light pink jacket that my mother had sent for Niki. It was garish and horrible, and knowing that Niki wouldn’t want it, I had tossed it in the bed of my truck where it had rolled around amongst my various other belongings, light and compact enough to deserve a ride halfway across the country with me, for some twelve hundred miles.
As I gassed up, the wind blew bitterly, and I gave in. I rummaged through the back and pulled out the jacket. I wore it only long enough to pump my gas, and get my truck warmed up. Somehow this was long enough to allow for a group of twenty grade schoolers to pass me on there way to God knows where. I’m not sure what impression I left on them, but perhaps I did my part to implant an innate distrust of the magnolia state in their minds.
Once I was back on the road, it became apparent that the quaint snow flurries I had seen at the hotel had been falling for some time. They, along with their larger, extended families had made the interstate quite interesting to travel on. An unladen Nissan Pickup weighs next to nothing. My diligent efforts back in Michigan had made sure that my truck weighed next to nothing, plus about five pounds. As the semis blew past me, it really did not seem like anything other than an adventure.
The Family Van
Our van is exceptionally appropriate for hauling a medium sized family around town, and on major roads. What it doesn’t do, however, is haul a medium sized family over a sheet of ice.
One of the popular sledding hills around town is called “Hill Top.” Sadly, it’s so popular now that we never go. The madness of all of the vehicles and children after a good snow is too unpleasant to make it worthwhile. The last time we went there though, we took the van. I’m not sure why we did that. I guess our car handled poor road conditions too well, and Niki and I were really in the mood to cut a few of those last, unpleasant minutes off the end of our lives.
We drove by Hill Top once and didn’t turn in. The place was more crowded than we had ever seen, and turning left across the road didn’t seem all that fun. We found a place to stop and turn around just a few hundred yards past and discussed our options. Niki was not a fan of the idea of turning in there. I, for some reason, didn’t think that it would be a problem.
I eased the van in to the parking lot with little fanfare. We crept along looking, in vain, for a spot to park. As we reached the end of the rows of cars, and came to the area where the children were sledding, I slowly realized that the van had not been under my control for some time. I eased on the brakes to no effect. Children began to whiz by us on each side, they, in their sleds, had at least some semblance of control. I pumped the brakes a little, and I swear, I heard the discs laughing. Maybe it was the tires. Several of the adults standing near us began to shake their heads in disbelief.
I winced as a dozen kids seemed to disappear under the front of the van. It now seemed certain that the van was going to defy the laws of physics and begin to slide uphill onto the sledding area. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the thing came to a halt.
We spent the next half hour pushing and pulling the van out of the parking lot. It slid with ridiculous ease in every direction except the one we wanted it to go. I fielded various incredulous questions from onlookers such as “Don’t you have any chains?” “Of course not, we’ve never needed them before.” Finally though, we were on the road with two very disappointed children. We have never returned.
You would think that we had learned our lesson about the van and ice, but we have had one more adventure in it since the Hill Top Incident. It was on a work trip that I wrote about long ago, when I tried to take my medium sized family in my van all the way to Pittsburg(h) Landing during a snowstorm. You see, that kind of thing just seems perfectly normal to me.
The Future
You might wonder how I ran across that picture at the top of this article. Well, I was looking to see how insane it would be to take a Ducati Hypermotard offroading. Some guy on some forum thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be quite as bad as the picture, but in general, everyone thought that it was a ludicrous idea. I’m unsure that I am convinced.
It seems counterintuitive that there would be so many different ways of dealing with sin among Christians. If you found one of the last remaining uncontacted civilizations in our world, and started to honestly explain, not only Christianity, but Christendom to them, the last thing that would occur to them is that we would all have our own ways of handling sin.
Megachurch
Charismatics, more so than any other group are willing to use the laws of man for their own purposes. Anything that can be used to bend your will to their ideals is a good thing. I am a major opponent of blue laws, so you can guess that this facet earns a great deal of ire from me.