You know those old conversion vans that are as big as school buses and get 2 miles to the gallon and are the antithesis of green? Well, I now own one. Yes, I’m surprised, too.

It all started with legs. Sis has restless leg syndrome (aka Jimmy leg if you listen to nephew JB which I actually do, if not often). This means she needs to stretch every thirty miles or so, which limits our car trips to the greater Dog Patch area before we have to stop. Lest I blame it all on her, I should point out that my own sciatic issues don’t help the situation either.

The solution arrived at by Sis was a van in which one of us could lie down for short periods of time while the other continued to move on down, move on down the road. Wow, I thought. Wow. Maybe I will be able to forgive her for the Fiero after all.

You may be aware our driveway is already filled with precious metal. That would be three beaters that don’t total a $10,000 value. In fact, add in the van and we still come up short of that target. On the upside, there are so many cars parked out there, you can’t tell how badly the drive needs resurfaced. Always look on the bright side, that’s what I say.

Anyhoo, back to the van. She’s a fifteen year old soldier that Sis found on Craig’s list. SOL John, who is a mechanic, went with me to take a look. In my price range we’d already looked at the van that had been in a Hood Canal flood (“But only once”), and the one that smelled of teenage boys doing unspeakable things.

So this van seemed magnificent to me. True, it needs an oxygen sensor, pads and shoes, a throttle something-or-other, and a back up light. Mostly it needs a better driver, because I can’t back it up in a straight line so please, everyone, be very alert for the next little while.

As we drove it away, the family that owned it stood outside and waved good-bye. The two little girls and mother were all crying; Daddy had just sold the vehicle that they loved. We had approximately 24 seconds to enjoy the high of a great deal before feeling heartless as the Man.

But I’m over it. It’s a gas hog and a road hog and I feel like dancing here on the back nine. Jimmy leg and all.