The van is gone

Well, I finally did it … I got rid of the van.

I needed a car after my 1992 Pontiac Bonneville met a watery grave (long story). My late grandfather’s Oldsmobile was getting me from Point A to Point B, but I didn’t know how much longer it would do it without complaining. It sat in his garage for two years after his death, and was never that well maintained anyway.

I was in a band, and I needed a band-sized vehicle. I had an insurance check, and was tempted to blow it on stuff like computer parts and percussion.

So when I found the van, I bought it. The 1990 Oldsmobile Silhouette. Leather sears, CD player, room for six … and only 60,000 miles when I bought it in 1996. Yes, the Oldsmobile Silhouette … the Cadillac of minivans (sorry, but the Get Shorty reference would have been made in the comments if I didn’t do it here).

I had a friend who had just bought a Pontiac Transport for his business, which was basically the same car without the leather seats & CD player. He was happy with his, so I felt pretty comfortable buying it. Minivans aren’t stylish things, but I’m not a stylish person. I needed the ability to move myself, guitar player, guitar amp, bass player, bass amp, drum set, and PA without having to tie anybody to a roof rack.

Plus it had a CD player. Well, it had a Delco CD player. I later learned that “Delco” is a Korean word, loosely translated as “You bought that piece fo crap? Hahahahahahaha!”.

Anyway, the van was my vehicle for years. It went all over the south. It moved me from Clemson to Duluth. It moved me to Loganville from Duluth. It moved many friends from apartment to apartment. The van carried me to Home Depot. The van carried what I bought at Home Depot to my home, often times pulled on a trailer.

The van was also a GM product, which means it eventually developed a severe case of GM-itis. My friend’s van suffered a more severe case; he labeled his Pontiac’s condition as vehicular dropsy. My van held up better than his, but it did develop problems. After 144,000 miles, the odometer stopped being reliable … well, it just stopped. Over the past year the van made grumbling noises, overheated on occasion, shifted funny, and lost it’s back gate latch (a condition seen in 50% of the product line I pass on the highway). The headliner sagged, the CD player ate discs, and the fuel gauge became a tad unreliable.

But, amazingly enough, it was still getting better than 20 MPG. The van was being powered by automotive alchemy, the variety of oils and potions available in this nation’s myriad of auto parts stores. Fuel cleaners, transmission additives, leak stoppers … anything that would prolong another visit to a mechanic just waiting to declare my vehicle unfit to leave their shop without some drastic set of repairs.

I rarely sell vehicles. Actually, the only vehicle I’ve ever parted with by way of financial transaction is my grandfather’s Oldsmobile (when I traded it in to buy the van). My Bonneville had 180,000 miles when it was totaled. Suzan’s truck has 190K+ miles (bought used, but well maintained). My “new” 1998 Neon just rolled over 97,000 miles. I buy a car with the intention of driving it until one of the two events occur:
(a) large parts fall off
(b) I become subject to Newton’s First Law, where the body in motion is my vehicle and the external force is an idiot in a larger vehicle that doesn’t properly observe the right of way.

After what I guessed to be 200,000 miles (remember, flaky odometer), I felt it was time to part with the van. GM-itis is terminal in most late 80′s and early-90′s vehicles, and one can only prolong the vehicle’s life by putting more money into the car than it’s worth. So the van has been donated to a children’s charity, who can auction it and use the money for good.

Meanwhile, I can drop one vehicle from insurance and work on paying off the Neon. It’s still got 80,000 or 90,000 miles left to go …