The Ballad of the Death Star

You wouldn’t know to look at her, but she had history. Amazing history, built up throughout her 2-owner life.

Chris the owner is featured above. He is the one spraying Cruex on his crotch. He had ordered this 1992 Dodge factory custom right from the military car sales office at Ramstien Air Force Base in Germany. It was precisely that fact that allowed him to order the interior colors exactly what he wanted, the short wheelbase and most important, the 5 speed manual transmission.

Why a van? Well, Chris was in a band. Actually Chris was in a lot of them. He is still a very talented bass player, but in the late 80s was stationed in Europe. Every band needs rhythm, thus Chris was in high demand. The fluid nature of military changes ensured that as soon as one band broke up, another was forming. He could play several instruments and had his own gear. In addition to instrumental talent, a decent voice and lack of musician’s ego, Chris also had a van.

This landed him a gig with a country cover band called Texas Pride in 1992. Country cover bands were even more rare than a bass player with a van in Europe. The gigs were consistent and paid well. The crowds became huge and they eventually toured bases all throughout Europe. With tours comes groupies and well…Chris had a van.

Non-musically, this was a hooligan vehicle of the highest order. Any semi-organized night of drinking involved a designated driver and this van. I distinctly remember a friend hanging from the open rear doors via his belt held by another buddy, while we were in motion. The blonde guy on the roof (next to me in the black shirt) once rode the luggage ladder for almost 5 miles. In the photograph above, we were preparing for a night of debauchery in Luxemburg; it became known as “The Boys Night Out…of The Country.”

Many hours after this photograph was snapped, we would arrange for the services of a professional so that one of the young lads in the picture above could lose his virginity to her. He would hug all of us for it later.

The groupie related shenanigans that occurred in the or as a result of this van are far more sordid.

Eventually Chris and the van returned stateside. He had met a lovely woman, fell in love and got married. Despite his monogamous ways, every day the van sat in their driveway, it mocked his new bride with untold sordid stories of what happened within. It had to go.

Which in 2002, is how it came to be mine.

The van’s life continued in a similar fashion, but I am married and can only play four chords on my very cheap guitar. But any semi-organized evening of drinking involved a designated driver and this van. In 2002, a pack of young Air Force Lieutenants were returning from the bars in downtown OKC when my wife’s phone rang. It was her sister; my friend Doug snatched the phone and questioned “Who the hell is this?” She replied; “Who the hell is this?”

Six months later they were engaged. They have been together for over 10 years together just had their third child, my darling niece Sofia.

At the start of 2003 I drove the van to a six-month temporary assignment in Las Vegas, where it was dubbed The Death Star. She also became the vehicle of choice for hijinks on and off The Strip and at least once was a hotel room when I had imbibed more than I had anticipated and elected to not drive.

Throughout all of this; she helped folks move, carried big purchases home, towed cars, motorcycles and performed any other menial task requiring a big vehicle for a variety of friends in this nation and others.

Sadly, she passed on the way back from Las Vegas. With almost 300,000 on the clock and more than a few Nebraska winters, the door hinges had started to rust. In the late 90’s she had struck a deer in Wyoming and still bore the battle scars. These issues precluded her repair when the flywheel lost about 25% of it’s teeth and the starter wouldn’t engage. It’s no small feet to find a hill near a gas station as I staggered across the Texas panhandle, but still easier than having to push it and bump it off solo. By the time she limped back to Norman Oklahoma, the charging system had also failed. Add in the growing body rust, and despite her proud heritage, her time had come to an end.

Like the infamous Giving Tree, her days of giving were not finished and I managed to drive her to a parts recycler. Like a Crabspirits adventure, I envisioned her telling tales her of travels all over Europe and the US to the other cars in the mortal ward, and after sunset those sagas turning more adult in nature.

If you live in the midwest and enjoy folk music, Chris still plays with the same lovely bride. Check out An Evening.