15, August 2024 "METALICA," she said.

 

Jackie loves riding in our 1995 GMC Vandura that we bought in 2008 in New York Mills.

It's called a "Vandura," supposedly because of its lush tuck & rolled upholstery, four Captain-chairs, comfortable rear bench seating, real wood-grained accents on dash and doors, and its warm-glow ceiling lights & individual seating lighting, in addition to a fantastic sound system, bow to stern.

 Jackie enjoys riding in it because it's so comfortable, often remarking she loves its boat-like ride and increased visibility. We only drive it during the summer because we were told, by a GMC van owner friend from North Dakota, that they typically don't handle so well in snow and ice, so it sits undercover in our yard most of the year.

It sits comfortably on four nearly new tires and a three-quarter ton chassis, sporting a big 5.7 V8 engine that loves to drink gasoline in the 9-12 mpg range, with the wind behind it, from an ample-sized 34-gallon fuel tank. Although it sports a short turning radius for its size, it steers like a truck, not a sports car; thus its correction delay requires some time getting used to each time out.

We've owned the 29-year old vehicle for sixteen years and had our share of maintenance issues with it, of course. I probably would've sold it long before now, but for the fact the wife loves it so much. There's little joy I can provide her at this stage in our lives 'living in the middle of nowhere,' and that this beast is one of the few she has, who am I to say "No, we can't afford it."

When I started the van in preparation of our trip to Wisconsin to take our grand-kids home a week ago, the headlight buzzer came on when I pulled the switch, disappointing me greatly because I thought we had the problem fixed. (The buzzer isn't supposed to come on if the engine was running; it is only meant to sound if we have left the headlights on accidentally. Having it continually buzz as we drive down the road wouldn't be a pleasant experience.) A local mechanic had apparently remedied the issue by removing a fuse, which probably surprised him as much as it did me, (although he didn't let on). It seemed to correct the problem until the very morning we were going to leave for Wisconsin.

Learning the problem wasn't fixed was almost like discovering one of the van's wheels had fallen off during the night, unexpectedly. I had looked online for a solution to this problem during the week previous, as had the wife. The friends I talked to couldn't offer a quick fix either (although I hadn't talked to Jeff in Des Moines; my bad). So I said, “It’s not forecast that we encounter bad weather on the way, so we’ll not use the headlights unless we absolutely have to. We'll get there before dark this afternoon, and leave for home from there about nine o'clock in the morning. And, if for some bizarre reason we do need them, we’ll just ignore the buzzing sound; we won’t even hear it after a while. Let's go.”

So it was the weather was grand with the exception of several miles of not-forecast heavy rain and high winds buffeting the-boat-on-wheels vehicle and its sloppy truck-like steering. I pulled on the headlights and we endured its eeeep-noise until we couldn’t hear it anymore.

 

The van is so big inside that the eeeep-noise echoed off the walls.

 

The kids were almost non-existent back in the van's caverns, their faces toward their cellphones or talking to one another occasionally. About 150 rough pounding miles into the trip (US 2 is a road badly in need of resurfacing its whole length), Jackie needed to go to the toilet just as we entered a small town, so I swung the beast into a gas station and parked bow first to the wall of the building. With a cruising range of about 480 miles we pass all the filling stations, except for toilet stops, until on our return trip. Should emergency toilet needs arise, we do carry a DIY porta-potty.

We all go into the station for toilet breaks. The kids are roused to join us whether they think they need to toilet or not, exercising their legs with all the tourists exercising theirs. Gathering my flock, we get back to the van. They all get buckled in; snacks distributed. When I turn the key, there’s no response by the starter. Expletive. 

 

Making sure I’m in Park, I try again, and nothing. Again. And again, not believing what it was I was experiencing. Jackie asked me what was wrong, but I was in no mood to try to explain; I was short with her, she said later. (Try as I might to be patient with inquisitive others, as I attempt to make sense of a imposing problem, I sometimes growl in response.) All I can think of is, I didn’t bring jumper cables or a battery booster with me, and to top it off I am parked where I can’t get a jump from anybody, although I had put a new battery in before we left. Or is it something else to do with the AC work that was done on the van recently? I was stymied. Then my rational side of my brain suggested, “Open the hood, the answer may be right in front of you."

   

I opened the hood. Then tried the battery cables for tightness. The negative cable was loose!  I went to the back of the van and grabbed a plier to tighten it, then started the engine. YAY BABY!! Relief!

Letting myself calm down, I apologized to Jackie for my earlier irritated response. (The kids had no idea what had happened.) Looking at the light switch 'plunger' ahead of the open drivers door, as we sat there, I told her we could try spraying it with WD-40 if we had some and see if that fixed the headlight problem. She plunged her left hand into a overloaded pouch on the back of my seat and surprising me, pulled out a 4-ounce can of WD40, said "Let's try it now."

 

I liberally bathed the switch with WD-40, pushing it several times, then pulled on the headlights.  

NO BUZZ!

 YES!!! YES!!! YES!!!

 

So it was on our way home across the sea, we were listening to 105.3 FM Red Lake Nation Radio in our boat, when this little ditty I didn't recognize, suddenly came on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnKhsTXoKCI. Jackie, reclining against a neck pillow in her luxurious Captain-chair, with her head back and her sunglasses on, a rather vintage piece of work herself, she said knowingly,  "METALICA."