Great lines. Wanted one of those. Needed one of these:
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TLDR: adventures in a van with tons of personality as odd as my own.
In 1975, I bought a 1966 Econoline work van, the pale yellow version. 2x12 wood bumpers, painted a glossy black (they could have been steel until you got close). "Jesus saves" graffiti'd on the driver's side in flat gray. The Recaro-clone seats. Three on the tree connected to a six-banger.[0] Huge mags and tires. A 12" drag racing steering wheel with manual steering.[1] Two decent, home-built bass bins with 15" speakers left in the back (not built-in, just there)[2]. That's how it came from the previous owner. People tended to give it room on the road.
I bought a stereo for it at an electronics show, not realizing they weren't all the same size. I bought some speakers meant to mount on the rear shelf of a sedan or coupe and hung them from the walls by the roof. The stereo sat on the floor in front of the engine hump, facing up, except when maneuvers moved it. I hung a wire across the van by the roof just behind the drivers seat, and kept a heavy afghan to throw over it in the winter, trapping the heat up front. It turned out to also be good for privacy while camping. (The seats worked pretty well for sleeping, too.)
One day, giving Maybe (a co-worker) a ride home, I hit a big railroad track bump at speed like I usually did because it would launch me toward the roof. She froke as she saw it coming and put her feet on the dash to brace herself. When we hit the bump, the home-made seat mounts gave way and her seat fell over backward. She screamed and then started laughing. We got the seat reattached, but it was never quite as safe after that. She alternately giggled and cussed me out the rest of the way to her house.
Not long after Sharon and I started dating, she started riding on the engine hump to sit closer to me. Good thing she was already hot, because that was a toasty place to sit! The van had electrical problems, and we spent a number of dates debugging and fixing those. That should have been a clue right there we were going to end up married.
It eventually threw a rod in the middle of nowhere. The only shop around took three times as long to fix it as promised, and when I got it back, the rebuilt replacement motor was never as good as the original. Also, it had a worn clutch linkage pivot point, so sometimes when you went to shift, WHOMP! and the clutch pedal went limply to the floor. I got really good at prying it back on from underneath the van in mere seconds. It died a few months after Sharon and I got married. 8^(
[0] The shifter mounting bracket was worn out, so by default you had reverse and first, or second and third. To switch between the two, you had to stand up and slam down on the shifter close to the column, or just yank up right there. This was a workout in traffic, too.
[1] I lived and drove in heavy traffic from north Atlanta through downtown into East Point, which was smack in south Atlanta. Within a week, I'd added an inch to my biceps wrestling that thing around!
[2] I hauled those around for years. Finally pulled them apart and tossed the wood- about a year before I switched from guitar to bass. (SMH)