Something strange is afoot in the suburbs of Houston. Something that men seem completely powerless to resist. Something so alluring, they feel inexplicably drawn to my front door. What forces of nature are at work to render men so hypnotized by a dented, ugly, pukealicious, forest green, metal mass? Not even the famed Inspector Clousseau can solve this one.
The first inquiry came about six months ago with a middle aged Hispanic man rapping on my door wanting to pay me cash on the spot for my van. Laughingly, I told him that it wasn't for sale. Internally, I thought, "Holy crap! You can't perpetrate April Fool's Day jokes in March. What's wrong with you?"
Another month passed, and again a man knocked on my door with a hopeful, pleading look in his eyes wanting to purchase the van. Okay, that's just weird. I kindly explained that this is our paid off, trusty work vehicle. For the right price, we would sell, but not for the pittance people have offered. Disappointed, he trudged back down the driveway to his BRAND NEW BLACK HONDA SPORTS CAR! What?!!!!???
This was no fluke. No less than six men in six months have come a knocking, seeking possession of this by now, exalted, sacred cow like vehicle. I looked online and discovered that Chevrolet stopped production of their Astro model back in 2005, thus making my van a highly sought after prized jewel. It's built on a truck chassis, making it sturdier for work purposes than other mini vans that are constructed on a car frame. That means it's strong enough for your friendly neighborhood amateur Sumo Wrestling Team (don't forget to put towels on the seats. Ewww!), but made for a typical suburban soccer mom.
Should I inform the next potential bidder about the fossilized French Fries in every compartment? Or that you can decipher the age of the vehicle by counting up the crusted milk rings left on the upholstery? Maybe the surefire selling points would include the lack of air conditioning, and crayon graffiti scribbled across the back of the seats? It also holds that delightful scent of butt sweat odor that permeates when you don't have the luxury of air conditioning in a climate of 100% humidity. My daughter, Sunbum, once asked what the purpose was for all the little pull out trays with cigarette symbols printed on them. I told her that it meant that our van was chock full of ash holes.
Don't go ogling my van unless you got the money, honey. It may become so rare, that I can start charging admission to my driveway just to look at the Dodo bird of cars. I'll start opening up online bidding soon. Who wants a near extinct van loaded with top of the line A.M/F.M radio, sticky cup holders, and lots of big ash holes?