Not mine, but similar. |
But I did find it on the road dead. The 62 econoline was on Diamond Street, which was the northern border of Temple University in 1983 or so. It was some sort of telephone repair truck, with windows only on the passenger side, though actually, there was no glass in the vehicle at all. But, I liked the old "Scooby Doo" style vans, and despite the fact that it was dull green with two wheels missing, glass busted out, and doors open, it didn't look bad. I also knew that we had lots of leftover ford van parts from my dad's various wrecks, even a newly rebuilt 300 cu. 6 cyclinder motot... Anyway, to make a long story short, I borrowed Jim and Cathy's Fairmount Wagon, picked up a Uhaul trailer and towed it to Reading. Amazingly, after unloading it, I was working on one of the wheels when a cat exited the vehicle. Somehow, he had managed to stay there the entire (very windy) drive from Philly. He was orange and friendly. I patted him on the head and continued working. A few minutes later, I realized he was kneeding my leg. I went to push him away a saw that he had managed to get about 16 square inches of my shirt into his drooly mouth, yuck! This cat was to sire many of our stupidest and most loved orange cats, I believe we named him Malcolm, but that could also have been his offspring.
Eventually, the van looked pretty sharp. Jim helped me paint it white (we may have painted both vans white in the same week) and we put the wide Torino rims on it. I had also cut the sunroof out of the Mustang 2 (poor Mustang 2) and riveted it into the roof of this van. Then I took the M2's seats and bolted them to the seat pedestal's of the van. By the time it was all over, it was a pretty pleasant vehicle.
Many things happened in the van because like all white vans it was a secret agent van. I taught the anti-graffiti kids the true meaning of fear by taking them all swimming at St Petersberg quarry when Philadelphia was on strike (what was I thinking). I was Bryan Root's personal camera vehicle for a while, with platforms mounted above and in front of the van. Mike Garr wrote the song "Carbon-monoxide" to celebrate driving as a passenger in the back of this van. I forced Gerry Bannan to surprise his girlfriend 3oo miles away so she could feel extra awkward about dumping him when we arrived AND -not having learned my lesson- then we stopped in on MY ex-girlfriend with much the same result. Jimmy likes to remind me that early one morning on my way to look at realestate with Russell, I immediately spilled half a cup of coffee in my lap in this van. I was wearing cutoff painters pants (white). The coffee made a fantastic stain from high on the front to wide on the back. A conversation stopper to say the least.
Until I changed the engine (it had a worn out 144 cu six. We crammed the 300 into it with only minor cutting of the floor and engine compartment), the carburetor floats used to stick, causing a panic situation where you have to tear open the engine compartment (located between the front seats) and whack the carb all the while hoping the engine wouldn't catch fire. One night it did. It was halloween. It was late and we were returning from... Jim Wynkoop's maybe. Remo Saraceni's son Luca was visiting, I can't remember what he was dressed as. I had been the human fly, but I had taken off my fly eyes, but the rest of me was blacked out and my hair was spiked. Mike Garr was dressed as a Salt shaker with a cube of NaCl on one foot for balancing on (brilliant). We're driving down Spring Garden and as we reach 12th, I smell the gas, then I hear it ignite. Mike smells it too. Luca is sleeping in the back of the van. I don't want to park the van near ANYTHING because it may burn to the ground in the next few minutes and it would be bad form to spread the problem. So I stop right in the center of Spring Garden (it's two lanes in both directions with a center turning lane), Mikes out with Luca, I'm trying to open the engine compartment. Mike is circling the van yelling at me to get away. I'm telling him I'lll be careful, but no sense losing a van if you don't have to . He is going in bigger and faster orbits around the van, looking like some sort of space ship with his salt shaker costume on. He keeps grabbing me and yelling but he's incoherent, I keep turning around and trying to explain I'm busy. finally, I grab him by the shoulders and say, "get a fire extinguisher!" Finally, with a mission, he shoots off down the street toward what looks like, at a great distance, a very large bumble-bee. Now I've got the engine compartment open and indeed the engine is on fire, but it's not THAT bad. I grab my indian blanket throw it on the engine, stuffing it down into the cracks to put out the blaze. It mostly works, but they keep igniting again from underneath, so I keep trying to throw the blanket in a different way. Now someone else is talking to me, "excuse me, excuse me, do you need help or anything?" There's a little car behind me with four teenagers in it. As I turn around and pull the blanket off the motor, the flames spring up and lick the roof of the van, as though hell had opened up in the floor. Backlit by flames, blacked out and spiked, and sweating like a pig, I must have been quite a sight because they looked at me and the driver just said, "nevermind," and peeled away. I went back to my swatting with the blanket but I just couldn't get the last bits of the fire out, the blanket wouldn't fit in the small spaces. I remember losing my temper and just doing it with my hands. Mike got back with a fire extinguisher and we made sure it was out. He had ended up at the massage parlour that was being watched over by a large man in a Yellow and Black tux. It took a lot of convincing to get him to lend out the fire extinguisher, and a few of the girls who worked there had to help him find it.
We pushed the van over to the curb, parked it legally, and walked the remaining 15 blocks home. I think I picked the van up the next day. It was a bit like a campfire the day after. I think I headed off to Reading to change the engine; a guy can only take so much.