Up On Blocks

It's summertime and that only means one thing - life is up on blocks.

Yes, happy campers, the van is in for repairs.

Just like clockwork, our lives are circumscribed by the faithful eruptions of van troubles and needed repairs just as surely as Old Faithful shoots forth with precision. No more than a couple of weeks after school gets out every year, we go through this charade of hopeful hoopla.

This time, the object of our agony is the long diseased carpeting, which is redolent with the unpleasant aroma of mold, mildew and grime. It will be ripped out and the van will be cleaned, re-carpeted and the sagging sideliners and headliner will be repaired.

That all sounds delightful, doesn't it.

But unless you have been party to the hotbox of mildew on a hot day following a rainstorm, you can't imagine the smell nor appreciate our hopeful anticipation of something remarkably better. Truthfully, just about anything would smell better.

The scent is hard to describe. It's a cross between compost, mildewed leaves and rain forest in a scent Glade could never even market or sell to the animals of the jungle.

Apparently, denizens of the tropics have their standards.

Somehow over the years, the frequent rains seep into not quite closed side windows, windows that have seals that have given up the ghost, or the rains simply pour through completely open passenger and driver door windows that allow for full saturation of the carpeting while the sandman hovers overhead dumping truckloads of magic dust on us at night keeping us from hearing the raging thunderstorm that aims its fury directly into the windows of the van.

The result is that the next day, the carpeting is soaked and smells worse than anything Hollywood prop masters could invent should "Smell-O-Vision" become popular for moviegoers.

Then, just as you think you are safe from the tragedy, the temperature heats up and the thermometer rises and we are left with a hot day in a rolling, air-conditionless oven and a smell worse than death.

Since the van has no air conditioning, breathing will require all of the windows to be open all the way, the vent blowing directly into your face to give fresh air and an extremely strong constitution to endure it all.

But the good news is the van is paid for. Yes. I'm sure that IS the good news.

Yippee.

That's a lot like being announced the grand prize winner of an all-expenses paid trip to the water reclamation facility nearest you. (for those of you not in the know - that's the "poop factory" where they clean your flushed toilet water today so you can use it to brush your teeth tomorrow.)

While it may be some kind of honor, it's hard to smile through the smell.

I won't miss the old carpeting. Nope. Not one bit. Neither will anyone who has ever been forced to ride in my van. And I'm sorry you've had to ride with me. Really I am.

I most certainly won't miss the smell. Who could? Even those long dead would have at least roused enough to plug their noses.

I don't even miss the irony of this circumstance because we've spent enough on this vehicle to have put a sizable down payment on something else over the years. Sad, but true.

The only thing I am missing is my winning prize from Publisher's Clearinghouse that will make this annual summer pilgrimage to the auto shop unnecessary from henceforth and forever.

What line do it get in to sign up for that?