Flash forward 20 years and we still we have old VW's. Last week we had two old VW's, and this week, we are down to just one, green Passat (which is older than some of you, and still gets 45 mpg! Don't be jealous).
I'm logging the sale of our 1980 VW Westfalia Campmobile because it was something we owned, a real-estate of sorts. When we were not paying our mortgage, we would joke that if we had to move, we all could live in The Van. We could have lived in the van, and in our early 20's one summer we did live in another version. One reason ideas are humorous is that they are partly true and ironic. I think in the back of my mind, the very creative part, that if we were homeless, we could live in a van down by the river. It was never plausible, or probable, but I thought it.
Selling our bus, is another way of letting go of the stuff we have acquired. I was surprised when my husband said he wanted to sell it. He loves it!
Last week, armed with a "For Sale" sign, our blue bus sat in front of one of the two super markets by our house. It was a new spot, and only hours after we parked it, there was a yellow ticket in the window. I also saw some actual hippies with packs sitting next to the bus on the curb. They were calling the number on the van, as I drove by fuming over the ticket. They called to say that there was a warning slip on the van, and that it was going to be towed. (It turns out it was parked legally, but the note said it was tagged for "storing personal property in the street". This is police for, "I can give you a ticket for anything")The hippie, whose name was Amber, turned out to be interested in buying it while talking to Silas, who is by nature enthusiastic. Amber is also enthusiastic and spontaneous by nature as well as tired of hitch hiking in the rain. She also was flush with cash.
She drove around a bit, and like I said, was very enthusiastic. She offered to buy the van. If someone has cash from working a job that hippies work, it turns out they are pretty easy-going about price.
They loaded their things into the van, we unloaded our things. We enthusiastically chatted, signed the deed, and exchanged the huge wad of cash. Staying true to her nature, she kissed and hugged us all, and as she pulled out of the driveway told us she was going to name the van after our daughter. Our girl's name is also a good name for a van, or a dog, or a troupe of boys, so it was enthusiastically sweet.
I am becoming accustomed to letting things go. I might have been less enthusiastic about the van than my husband, or than Amber, but it still had a place in my heart, and I still have that, even though the physical auto is carrying weed toting former hitch hikers. I'm reminded that there is joy in owning things, be it a house or a car. There is some joy in working hard on or for something, only to have the memory of the hard work, the experience, and the people associated with it.
