That Night in the Mini-van

In 1992, shortly after my husband retired the first time, we bought the mini-van we had been wanting for several years. It was equipped with a trailer-towing package because we thought we might buy a small camper to pull behind it. It also had three rows of seats, with the second and third rows made to fold down to make one bed that filled basically the whole inside of the van, back of the front seat. The exception was a space behind the back seat that would accommodate a port-a-you-know-what, if needed. And considering our ages, even back then, we knew it would eventually be needed.

We had camped in tents in the past, and it had not been the best experience for us. Although we slept in a tent many nights, it wasn't something we looked forward to, as one could predict the weather by our camping plans. People around here would send us camping to break a drought.

Then we got a small truck and camper and tried sleeping in that. When the kids were home, our son got claustrophobic in the camper and usually threw up. After they were grown, we got another small truck and camper, but found it inconvenient to sleep in, as we had to move everything out of the camper to the truck seat when we wanted to sleep in the camper. And the next morning it would usually be raining, so we would either get the stuff wet moving it back, or have to lie looking at the ceiling of the camper, which seemed to get closer to our faces by the minute, waiting for the rain to stop.

So now we could envision ourselves comfortably reclining in our van-bed in all kinds of interesting settings, sleeping peacefully till wakened by the morning sun, or more likely, a gentle rain falling on the roof. But it was a few years before we actually got around to trying it.

Eventually we decided we would take a trip out west, saving money all the way by sleeping in our van. I loaded lots of blankets and pillows for the nights we would spend in Yellowstone or other places that had cool weather at night. We packed an ice chest and a box of food, a few clothes, and we were off.

The first night we made it all the way from our home in Oklahoma to Albuquerque. We found a nice RV park, ate supper from the supplies we had taken with us, and made our bed for the night. My side was a little crowded because I had shoved aside the hanging clothes behind the front seat, thinking they wouldn't deprive me of much space.

Shortly after going to bed, my husband started to squirm. He tends to have leg cramps and was beginning to worry that he would have one, requiring him to jump out of bed, in which case he would probably crack his head on the ceiling.

Soon the concern started affecting him in other ways and before long he needed to, as my dad used to say, "make a creek." He accomplished that by crawling to the foot of the bed and using a coffee can with a tight-fitting lid, rather than the porta.....

Unfortunately, before he could get the lid back on the can, he accidentally dropped the lid and turned the can over. Since some of our bed covers had already slid off the foot of the bed, he was naturally concerned that they were now wet. So he opened the sliding door on his side of the bed, got out and slammed it shut....with a drawn-out, metallic sliding sound followed by a loud boom.

Then he opened the back door to check on his can. Fortunately, it had tipped over against the door and any spillage had gone directly out the door, so everything inside was dry.

He shut the door---blam!

Then he went to the driver's side, opened the door, slid in, and shut the door---blam! again.

I said, "You're going to wake all our neighbors with all the door slamming." Then he proceeded to wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. He had decided he couldn't sleep in the bed. Now he was leaned back in the driver's seat with his knees propped up on the steering wheel. I don't know how he did that.

As I recall, the passenger seat must have been full of things we had moved from the back when we went to bed, leaving him only the driver's seat to sleep in.

With all his squirming shaking the van, the hanging clothes by my head worked loose, slid down and folded slowly over my head. Some of the hangers got tangled in my hair. He turned around in the seat and tried to help, getting dizzy in the process. It took a while to dig out and move the clothes out of the way.

Then the continual motion of the van started to revive my old-time nemesis, motion sickness. I started to feel queasy. "Will you please try to be still before I upchuck?" I begged him.

About that time I was reminded of a decision I had made earlier in the day. Any time we travel I have major problems with "regularity." Or in my case, lack of it. A friend had recently introduced me to a wonderful product that promised to keep things moving, but slowly and gently. Like the next morning. I decided to try that product, and took a pill just before going to bed, as instructed, anticipating gentle relief in the morning.

But being the exception to every rule, I now realized morning was not coming soon enough. I told my husband I had to get out and go to the restroom, and started working my way to the sliding door on the other side of the bed. Then I realized that three minutes from now wasn't going to be soon enough either. I had to go NOW!

I scrambled to the port-a-you-know-what at the foot of our bed and sought its refuge. Shortly afterwards, my husband, half-dozing in the front seat, jerked up straight, cranked down his window, and while making gasping sounds, announced, "We no longer have to worry about SLAMMING DOORS waking the neighbors."

When I was able, I put things in order, then tried again to sleep. But neither of us slept any to speak of the rest of the night, for several reasons.

The next morning as we ate breakfast at a picnic table, I asked my husband, "How much are motel rooms going for these days?"

He gave me an approximate figure, and I said, "I think it would be worth every cent of that, don't you?" He agreed.

After breakfast, I folded up all the blankets and stacked them and the pillows in the back seat, where they remained for about two weeks while we drove around the country. Our trip cost considerably more than planned, but hey, what's money for anyway?

We kept that van for 10 years and never spent another night in it, nor did it ever pull a trailer. I still miss it. It sure would have come in handy in case of an emergency.