When John Lennon penned the words of the famous song, All You Need is Love, I believe he was talking about how there is nothing new under the sun and as long as you have love, life can't be boring. When John Travolta dressed up like an overweight angel and sang it to Andie MacDowell in the back of an old station wagon, I believe he was reminding the passengers in that car that there's no use fussing and fighting. [Don't know why John Lennon and John Travolta mean something to me? Pop over and read about my various obsessions in Why Shopping for a Van Will Strengthen Your Relationship.]

To think that all you need is love is a little naive, but it is a beautiful sentiment.

Love isn't something you can quantify. There isn't a mathematical formula to know if you have enough. You just know.

And if a van is right for you, you will just know.


And yes. You can fall in love with a van.

I think there are three measures of attraction:

1. Physical
2. Emotional
3. Spiritual

Physical: Does that sexy beast make your heart sing? Does the curve of her roof line cause you to suck in your breath? Does the creak of her hinges send shivers down your spine? Does the purr of her engine put a little gas in your tank? Yes? Then you're crushing something fierce!

Emotional: Does she listen to your hopes? Does she support the weight of your dreams? Do you trust that she'll go the distance and stand by you in good times and bad? Do you want to build a closer connection? Are you moved to touch her seams and pat her bumper and whisper secrets into her vents and ask her to the fantasy suite? Yes? Welcome to the hot bed of lust! 

Spiritual: Is she the Diana to your Anne with an 'e'? Do you want to tattoo your mark upon her with destination bumper stickers? Are you already searching for the perfect name to grace the Van-Highness? Is she the sigh you release in a moment of pure bliss? Does she feel like home? Yes? Well, my friend, you've done it. You're in love!

When we pulled into the driveway of the couple who were selling it, that 1981 Roadtrek sat there waiting for us, all vintage and glorious and at first, all I could manage was a Betty Boop, "Oh!"

A switch flipped the moment I saw it. Like when Jim Carrey was The Mask and he AHOOGAED Cameron Diaz. She was beautiful and I felt an instant connection.

I shrugged off the orange shag carpet. I ignored the white sateen (or whatever it was) on the ceiling. I didn't care that the radio was missing from the dashboard. Love is blind.

She whispered to me as I searched her compartments: oh, the adventures we will have. She giggled as I took the wheel and tried her out along the country road. You are mine, I whispered back.


Love is blind, but you can't let it be stupid. We knew she was listed for a price that tickled the borderline of our budget, but we also knew we'd looked at countless vans and none of them had spoken our name as much as she did.

"I want it," I said.

"Me too," Scott said.


So we made a handshake deal with the seller after he agreed to letting us have a pre-safety preformed. Anxiety settled in as we reminisced about all the hope we'd poured into the ambulance, only to have those hopes destroyed after the pre-safety. We looked at each other like two people with first date jitters.

"I feel good about this one," Scott said.

"Me too."