The Legend of the Spagein Wagon: Part One

Recently, my beloved van succumbed to old age and was overtaken in a zealous attack mounted by the moistness of my West Coast environment. The van in question is a 1981 GMC VanDura who's odometer has clicked over to a neat line of zeros 4 times. This van has been in my life since the year of its birth (save the three years I lived in Ontario), which is coincidently the same year by younger brother was born. It's a glorious van of differing shades of blue and silver featuring wall to wall, up the walls, and across the ceiling blue carpeting. It houses four captain's seats in the front half of the space with two skylights for added illumination and atmospheric viewing. Behind these seats, where the roof is slightly higher than in the front allowing just enough room for me to stand up straight, there are two cupboards, a sink with a pump faucet, a fridge/ice box, and la pièce de résistance; a long three-person seat against the back wall of the van that unfolds into a double bed. I've had a long history with this van, from traveling back and forth across North America with my family as a child, to my inheritance of it at age 16, to the van-worthy adventures of my 20s. This behemoth, gas guzzler extreme on its third engine, has had many names over the years, but the last one, and the one I think it will be remembered by, is The Spagein Wagon. In honour of it's life, and it's impact/contribution to my life (it's practically another member of the family), and because of Wookiee's suggestion, I will be recounting a multi-volumed history of the van in all it's glory.



Earlier pictures will need to be scanned from the pre-digital era. This first picture is of the van parked in it's designated spot in my driveway as it appears today. Curtains drawn, doors unlocked, I said my final farewell.