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c. 2026 Rod Ice
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(7-26)
One of the pleasures associated with retirement is not having to keep a regular schedule. I take advantage of this liberty whenever possible, and use it to propel myself into creative projects that take shape at any and all hours of the day. After a morning routine of coffee and some light breakfast, I sometimes sit at my desk in the home office, and find myself relapsing into a lazy mood of slumber. These brief interludes are particularly restful, and often arouse bursts of inspiration that are productive and useful.
A recent example of this phenomenon came as I dozed in my chair with its adjustable frame set to recline. I snored and nodded off while dreaming about being at the wheel of a vehicle from yonder days, one bought in the year of 1987. A beastly relic that still lingers in memory as one of the more unique conveyances ever to inhabit my driveway.
Friends called it Godzilla. Big, ugly, and green!
During that distant era, I was working for a supermarket in town, on their grocery crew. This came after a stint of 24 months at a local department store, and was, for a time, split with a side job at the Kent State University branch in a nearby village. I earned a meager, hourly wage for my labor, but made up for that deficiency by staying perpetually active throughout the work week. My schedule normally encompassed seven days on duty, between employers. When that yielded the chance to work all of those hours in one place, I took it eagerly. My goal was to help support the family, and save funds for a better mule-on-wheels.
I had been driving a Chevrolet Chevette, which originally seemed thrifty and dependable enough to carry me forward for an extended period of time. Yet upon reaching the age of only six years, it had all but disintegrated. The floorboards rusted out, suspension components shattered, and eventually, one of the pistons cracked. I actually drove it on three of four cylinders, briefly, but knew that this act was tempting fate.
A brother-in-law suggested attending an auction site in western Pennsylvania with which he was familiar. This experience turned out to be quite entertaining, as it was conducted at a rural property where cars were driven, in rapid succession, through a barn where the auctioneer and participants had been situated. The variety of vehicles literally caused my eyes to bulge. Some were vintage artifacts, with an obvious value for collectors. Others seemed suited for everyday use, without much concern over damaging their common engines or bodywork. But unfortunately, I had little money to spend. The aforementioned econobox I had owned took most of my income to afford, through a bank loan. There was little left in my wallet to start over.
I had no choice, however. Some kind of solution had to be found.
As the regular event was winding down, a 1972 Ford Econoline E-300 appeared, wearing a sturdy shade of military paint. The auctioneer boasted that it had served as a delivery hauler for a newspaper company in Erie. I could tell that it had been outfitted with spartan amenities. There were only two seats in the front. It carried the 302 V-8, a three-speed manual transmission, and an AM radio. A doghouse sat between the driver and passenger, to cover its powerplant. The van was huge, plain, and seemed to run well, if nothing else.
Bidding on the Econoline did not take off at an energetic pace. Attendees were lethargic in showing interest. A purchase price of $50.00 started the proceedings. Then $100.00, $150.00, and $200.00. Everyone held their breath as the fellow in charge looked around his lair, narrowed his gaze, and prepared to declare the olive-drab Ford a sold item in his queue. But some pinprick of courage caused my right arm to flinch, and reach for the roof.
“I’ll bid $250.00 on that thing! Let me buy it right now, I’ve got that much in cash!”
The other buyers looked at me as if I had lost my mental faculties. But the auctioneer banged his gavel on the rostrum.
“SOLD FOR THE PRICE OF $250.00! GET IT OUT OF HERE, KIDDO! GOOD LUCK!”
My wife was very quiet on the way back to Ohio. There were no interior lights functioning, so we made the journey in near-darkness. All I could see was a glow of headlights, peering into the void of night. Despite having no plates attached, I drove all the way home with no attention paid by the police.
The Econoline represented an enormous change from my little Chevrolet. I soon discovered that steering the wheeled barge, with no power assist onboard, was a chore. I likened it to driving a school bus. The mechanical range was low enough that it could pull away even if mistakenly placed into third gear. Yet would only run about 80 mph with its accelerator pedal to the floor. The van was a workhorse designed for carrying heavy loads.
It did not return great numbers for fuel economy. And when the temperatures began to plummet, I realized that its heater core was shot. This meant scraping the windshield as I navigated. I would sometimes drive home from work on winter days with my head out the window, for a clearer view of the road ahead.
Since the interior was bare, I installed a matting of indoor-outdoor carpet as a comfort measure. I found an oscillating fan which fit on the dashboard, and it helped during the summer. And a toggle switch worked to fix the backup lights which did not function for some reason. I installed a budget stereo system, and put speaker enclosures in the back. My father-in-law contributed a wooden toolbox, which fit behind the seats.
The van had lots of cargo space, much like a pickup truck with a fiberglass cap installed. Only as an afterthought did I realize there was no spare tire. But I figured that the risk of running around without that needed accessory was less of a worry than pushing my Chevette on three cylinders, with smoke billowing from its tailpipe.
I drove the Econoline for an entire year. Then sold it to my younger brother for $300.00.
In the interim, I had saved enough to purchase a blue, 1979 F-150 pickup, at our local dealership. That choice was one that bettered my situation greatly. It had four-wheel drive, a bench seat, and plenty of hauling capability. And it did not cause my wife to have stomach cramps when I was out on the road.
Still, Godzilla the van remains in my thoughts. When sleeping restfully at night, or even when lounging in the chair at my desk.
