So the other day, Julie and I were out and about in the camper van, and we stopped at the Noodle Box on Fisgard to grab some takeout noodles. It’s a takeout place, so we ate in the van. I love that thing. Everywhere I go, I can sit on my couch if I so desire!
After eating, we were taking our trash out to a garbage can, and I was stopped by a young guy who asked if the van was mine. I replied that it was.
“Oh really?” he said, “It used to be mine!”
It was awesome to meet this guy. He bought it from the people who bought it from the people who bought it new, and he sold it to the people who sold it to the people who sold it to me. He owned it when the window I replaced was broken – he was living in the van at that time and had heirlooms and valuables stolen. I think he was glad to see it repaired. He also was the guy who built the folding bed that is in there currently, which I have to say, he did a really nice job of!
He knew things about the van that I never would have known. It had a rebuilt engine installed in the mid nineties. Apparently they installed it because the last engine caught fire, and nearly anything flammable was replaced in the front half of the van at the same time. I never would have known. I bought a fire extinguisher for it the next day.
He bought it in Nelson and brought it here. His original plan was to drive it to Mexico. That plan was at least parially steimied by the break-in.
He is a custom metalwork fabricator, and used his skills to rebuild the furnace. I suddenly have much more confidence in it.
He said there was a story about the twisted rear bumper, and mentioned that it had to do with the van being trapped in a ditch deeper than it’s height, which must be at least 8 feet.
He also mentioned the van’s nickname was “Chubby”. Still is, as far as I am concerned.