A Man and His Van

Blinded by an unprecedented light that tore through my eyes. The weak, dry desert ground crunched beneath me. I turned away from the sun and raised my hand up to defend against the hanging inferno that looked like a weird mustard stain on a cyan blanket. I coughed and dry heaved. It felt like a monster was trying to rip its way out of my skull. “Oh boy,” I whispered; the sarcasm dripped from my words, “Gotta love hangovers.” I slowly sat up and peered around. Something was different, something was... off. What was it? For the life of me I couldn’t figure- GASP!

“Someone took my van!”

I leapt up and scrambled around but there was nothing! Just orange wasteland for a million miles with one long stretch of useless black asphalt tearing right through the middle! I rubbed my temples and began to think.

“What was I doing last night? Who was I with? Why would they- Wait a minute. WHERE am I?” I groaned. “This is perfect!” My sarcasm outlandishly palpable. I glared down at the ground and kicked a rock as hard as I could. “Amazing! They didn’t take my steel-toe boots. Fantastic.” My words drowned in cynicism as I rolled my eyes. I decided then to double check myself: gray t-shirt? Check. Blue jeans? Check. Wallet? keys? Ugh, no. I took a deep breath, “Silver lining, Paul. Always look for the silver-” I turned and stopped dead. My cheeks lifted ten feet up and I became ecstatic! There she was! “Navi!” I shouted! My precious Vietnamese textile blanket had snagged onto a nearby cactus! Four years ago, I bought Navi from some guy in Oklahoma. I don’t know why but she was screaming my name. Though, I really didn’t believe Navi was authentic, but for only five bucks? Who cares!

I ran up and freed her. I quickly draped Navi over me. I wasn’t sure if this would make me hotter or protect me from the sun. Maybe both? Truthfully, I didn’t care. “I ain’t letting you blow away again.” I asserted as I gripped Navi so tight my knuckles turned white. I trotted back to the road when suddenly I felt my knees wobble.

“Oh no.” WHAM! They buckled and I smashed, face first, onto the asphalt road. I let a pained groan crawl out of my throat and after a moment, I turned on my back and slowly sat up. But then I seen a weird set of tracks in the ground. My head tilted and I squinted until it dawned on me: tire tracks! I rushed up to the tracks and studied them.

“Wait, wait, wait.” A memory rushed back. “I was here! Me! I mean I! No, my van! We were here! I set up for the night with-” I paused, “With…?” I couldn’t remember who else was with me, but I knew that we made a camp here last night. “But, who would take my van?”

Nine years ago I bought that gorgeous hunk of metal, admittedly she was a junker, but she was mine. I named my beautiful automobile Bernice and adopted her from a dealership in South Carolina for only two thousand bucks. Then I took her all over the country! Washington DC, New York City, Toledo, Mount Rushmore, heck, we even went to Las Vegas! My teeth escaped through my lips as a huge smile stretched over my face. I looked up at my blanket, “Lucky I didn’t lose Bernice to the slots, eh Navi? She has a real gambling problem.”

I walked back to the road, “Hah! Navi you always know what to say.” I paused for just a moment and planned my next course of action. “Okay, so the sun is directly above me, which means it's noon aaaaand…” I took a breath, “I have no idea which way north is.” I contemplated for what felt like an eternity. I had to think of a way to tell where I was, “Oh! But if I look at the road number I can tell if its north/south or east/wes-aaaand there’s no numbers. Great.” I looked back at the tire tracks and noticed that a set lead off from the right - must be from when I pulled over last night - but then another set came back to the road.

“So she must’ve went that way. I’ma comin’ Bernice!” I shouted as I exploded into a sprint down a strip of asphalt that was so hot you could roast a turkey on it in two minutes flat. Shortly, I began to think. What did I remember? “I’m in Arizona.” I said softly, “I remember I had arrived with Bernice some two/three nights ago. We stopped at a gas station yesterday and met a lovely lady behind the register. Could she have-” I gradually screeched to a halt as steam rolled out of my ears from the gears in my brain struggling to turn, “No. I never even got her name, let alone brought her out with me.” I concluded.

I trudged forward, admittedly a little out of breath, and with each step the sun beat down harder and harder. Heck, it beat over my head harder than that Glenn character in that zombie show. “Zombie show?” I inquired, “I’ve been on the road for forever, where would I have seen-” Another memory flooded back. “Last night, the zombie show was on the TV at the bar and there I met-” I couldn't remember, “Oh, who was it? Who did I meet?!” I shouted and frustratedly stomped on the ground. I kicked up rocks, dirt, and even a lizard or two.

“This is just like Toledo all over again!” I punched the ground, breathing heavy and angrily, “No, Paul. Remember Doctor Stevens: breath in. Breath out.” After a minute I began to calm myself back down. “Navi, I feel frustrated and that’s okay. It’s okay to be angry but it’s not okay to mean. Right?” I asked my quiet companion, “Right.” I congratulated.

“Let’s keep it moving.”

Each step rattled my brain as I tried to remember the fleeting details of last night. “I was drinking beer and I was on my fifth? Sixth?” I thought for a moment, “Seventh. Definitely seventh.” I stepped cautiously over a small pit; it looked as if something had been ripped out. An apt metaphor for my memory. I looked up and saw - again - that big teal and a barren clay horizon that were unceremoniously slapped together. SIGH. I rolled my eyes and kept moving, “Then,” I recalled, “Someone bought me a shot. Was it tequila? No, gin.” Involuntarily, I dropped to my knees and slapped my palm over my lips as my stomach tried vigorously to leap out of my mouth.

After a moment, I swallowed, took a long, deep breath, and meandered on. “I don’t remember much after that,” I stated, “Just a blonde girl. Woman, not girl. 30’s maybe? She said I was cute. Probably.” I don’t think she meant it. “Then, I definitely blacked out and we must’ve come out here. I remember reviving-” finger quotes, “-In the middle of the night. Me and her were laying beneath the stars just talking. She mentioned something about being a nurse? Or doctor? Therapist?... Man, my head hurts.”

I peered around this rusty, dusty, gusty land; I smiled for the rhyme and noticed the sun had lowered. It was probably about three pm, “Fifteen hundred hours,” I chuckled to myself. And in the distance, I gazed upon some amber colored colossi - cylindrical in shape, made out of earth and rocks - that were casting gigantic shadows. “Shade!” I exclaimed. I moved faster than lightning towards the glorious darkened areas.

Was I exhausted? Definitely.

Dehydrated? You bet.

But hot? Not for long!

As soon as I got into the darkness I collapsed to my knees. “Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff.” I breathed deep and lingered there with Navi. I faced the road and pondered for a moment, “Lotsa walking today,” I remarked as I took Navi and folded her up real pretty-like and sat her down, “Five minutes?!” I protested, “That’s not nearly long enough! Ten minutes.” I chuckled, “Man, I’m lonely.”

I looked at Navi, she was taut, a little dusty, maybe a hole or two from the cactus, some odd burn marks from...somewhere, but otherwise in perfect condition. “Ten years,” I said to her, “Can you believe that? On the road for ten years.” My knees slowly came into my chest as I spoke. “A lot of good times. Bad ones too. Is it- am I supposed to feel like this, Navi?”

Silence.

A small breeze fluttered by as I stared over the road to the clashing orange and blue border. I got lost in my memories. I met so many people on this trip: George from DC, Sally from Toledo, Tom & Miranda from Oklahoma. I think it was Elton John, or Bon Jovi, who said: People don’t change, only the faces and names. And location. And- Y’know, I don’t think I agree with that sentiment! Some people were sweet, some were rude, and some even traveled with me. Different strokes, I suppose.

I looked down at Navi who was square as could be, “You know, maybe this is the life for me. I don’t see any issue with long roads and gorgeous scenery. Hah, I mean, it’s not like… it’s been a long time.” I gently coughed to clear my throat and tightly held my knees under my chin, “Something feels weird. Right in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been ignoring it for a long time but, I just don’t think I can anymore. I traveled all this way, all this time, and what do I have to show for it? I’m sitting in the middle of nowhere talking to an old blanket! And I can’t believe that after everything I don’t even feel better?! I thought that this would help! That taking some time away would fix everything; but it didn’t. I just feel… helpless, I guess. I don’t know.”

I gently loosened my grip and felt my legs spread forward over the dirty, tangerine ground. “C’mon, Navi,” I said as I picked her up, “We better keep moving. I need to find somewhere to stay for the night or I’ll freeze. We can report Bernice missing in the morning.”

It took some time - and a lot of walking - but I finally found the tiniest town. It was called tequila? Acquilla? Who knows, but it had a motel! “That’ll be $15, sir.” The clerk’s shrill, trebly voice rang in my head like a bell as I quickly realized, “Well, funny story. Short story.” I tried to inform her as quickly as I could, “My van, Bernice, was stolen and my money is in-” but she cut me off before I could finish, “I’m sorry sir, if you can’t pay then you can’t stay here.” SIGH. I nodded real slow and walked off the motel property. “It was definitely one star anyway, ” I assured myself, “Prob’ly fulla cockroaches and, and, leaky, uh, leaky… leaks. Lot of unwanted water. Definitely.”

Before long, it was nearly night time and without any money I had nowhere to stay. But, I had a bright idea! It didn’t cost any money to sleep off being drunk in a jail cell. Found that out in Toledo. I walked into the bar and sat down. I was a seat away from this big biker guy. Generic biker type: bandanna, leather jacket, beard. The bartender kinda looked the same. But he had two tattoo sleeves, big mustache, and was wearing a wife beater tank top, blue jeans, and well, I couldn’t see his feet, so I’m going to pretend he had big clown shoes on. Hehehehe.

Bartender walked up to me and announced, “Name’s Chris. What’ll ya have?” He slipped a coaster down faster than I could see, “Shot of whiskey,” I eventually said. He nodded and poured it as fast as a bullet shot outta gun. He went to set it down in front of me but I reached out even faster and spilled it all over.

“Whoa! Sorry there, Chris.” I said to him. He rolled his eyes and gripped his hands viciously down on the bar, knuckles whiter than snow, “Let’s try again,” he advised, trying to mask his rage, “This time, wait til its set down to grab it. Yeah?” I nodded, and when he turned to grab a towel, I quickly wiped the whiskey off with my shirt and ZOOM! Like a race car I shot out of that bar. I galloped up to the police station and started to pretend to stumble. I pushed the front door in and fell on my face. “Stella!” I shouted out, “Stella, where are- are you?” I shouted with a heavy vocal slur.

Feet landed in front of my face and I jolted my eyes upwards. “I’m Officer Johnson,” she asserted. She stared down at me and grumbled, “No, no, no,” I responded, “I need Stella. Where’s Stella?” I leapt to my feet and slowly swayed back and forth, “Stella!” I shouted again. “Stop,” she demanded with the sternness of a parent that wasn’t mad, just disappointed, “What’s your name?” she asked, “Paul.” I smiled.

“Paul who?” she growled. I paused for a second and blinked slowly, my eyes out of sync, “Paul.”

“Okay.” she groaned and sniffed the air. Her nose crinkled at the smell of my whiskey soaked shirt. “Paul, have you been drinking tonight?” She crossed her arms. I copied her and looked at her feet. I began speaking in the same angered tone, slurring dramatically, as I lied to this cop’s face, “No. No I have not-haven’t. Have you been- did you, did, did you drink tonight?” Our eyes met. Her face was red and a big vein ran across her forehead. Her teeth grit tighter than a zip tie, she slowly remarked, “Paul, I’m going to need you to come with me.”

Success!

. . .

In the morning, I awoke with Navi covering me up. I definitely didn’t go to sleep with Navi on. Officer Johnson was still there and noticed me as I sat up. “Feel better, Paul?”

I nodded. “A little hungover, but I think I’ll manage.” Her face stayed blank, “Well good.” She retorted with palpable sarcasm. She quickly opened the cell door and began to shove me out. Thankfully, Navi was still wrapped around me. “Oh, wait wait wait, one thing before I go. I want to report a stolen vehicle.” I quickly explained. Without even making eye contact or missing a beat, she retorted, “It’s right where you left it last night.” I tried to persist, “No, no, it was stolen two mornings ago.” I held up two fingers and looked back at her for any form of validation, or decency. She ignored my hand and kept her focus straight ahead, “Tell it to Officer Russel.” She shoved me into the station lobby and slammed the door behind me, nearly knocking it off its hinges, and deafening me in the process; real polite-like. To be fair, I definitely deserved it.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. The floor here was made of old, fake hardwood and the walls were displeasing, unpainted drywall. An old ceiling fan struggled to turn above the center of the room and they had only a few, uncomfortable looking, cushion-less chairs that lined up along the far wall. I turned left and saw a small window and skipped up to it. “Officer Russel?”

“Yes?” he responded. He was staring down at some papers and couldn’t be bothered to look up at me. “I wanna report a stolen vehicle.”

He never moved his gaze from the papers in front of him, but instinctively, he grabbed a paper and pen to his right and slid them under the window. “Fill this out. Your name, car make, model, license plate number, vin number, and a description.”

I nodded and after a few minutes walked back up. “Here you are, sir.” I said as I slid the paper and pen to him. He grabbed it and overlooked it. And then without lifting his head, he finally peered up at me. He blinked slowly and leaned back in his chair, “You’ll never believe it, Paul.” I tilted my head and squinted slightly, “What?”

“Well, good news, we found your van. Bad news, a lady took it joy riding; she was speeding through town, Officer Johnson didn’t like that much at all and pulled her over, but on top of that, your lady friend decided to resist arrest. Real bright bulb she was.” He smiled and stood up, “Your van is in our impound lot now.”

I slammed my hands on the little table below the window, “What?! Take me to my van! Take me to Bernice! Uh, please.”

Officer Russel nodded. “Right this way.” He responded in an odd tone. I think he was weirded out that I named my van but it didn’t bother me. And before I knew it? There she was! He took me right to my beautiful, stunning, gorgeous Bernice! In top condition as always. Rusted, falling apart, a heap of junk metal, but my heap of junk metal. I ran up and hugged her. “Never leave again.”

I kept traveling for a little while after that. Thought twice about spending the night with strangers from then on. But I kept Bernice real safe. I did decide, though, after a few more months on the road to go back to see Doctor Stevens. I’m starting to feel better, I think. He called it PTSD? And says it’s common in soldiers. But, anyhow, Bernice doesn’t do much driving these days, mostly she rests quietly in my lawn. Hope to talk to you soon, Ma, I miss you.

~Much love, Paul.