Back in the 80s, I drove a Toyota van. I think it was an ’81. It was the style of van where you were sitting knees to the very front – inches from the car in front of you. There were a lot of similar VW vans around then, too. Funny how you still see the VW vans on the road, but you never see an old Toyota van.

Let me give you my theory on why it’s that way. . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “van.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

7 thoughts on “Van”

  1. We had two vans. A Pontiac Transport and then a Pontiac Montana. With three children, they were a must. The bucket seats saved us from the incessant whining of ¨Mom, he touched me!¨. The luggage space was large enough to store a highchair, the folding crib, the toys, etc. Without a van, we’d have stayed cooped up in our cave. Insanity would have followed.

  2. The smell of exhaust somehow leaked into the van. God knows the smell the passing motorists had to deal with. Even if he could only max out at 57 mph and even if everything he owned, bed and all, lay jumbled in a pile behind him, Max knew he had to follow his dream. He would arrive in Nashville ready to blow the judges away.

  3. “Mama, please don’t bring the van to pick me up.”
    Embarrassment writ large on the tiny face.
    “Why? What happened?”
    “My classmates say your mama has brought an ambulance to pick you up.”
    Being a doctor’s car, necessitated the sign of red cross. I sighed.
    “Tell them it is not your fault if all the ambulances in this small town were vans”.
    Unconvinced,she shrugged and looked away.Like all teenagers, she too was beginning to be embarrassed of her parents.

  4. Van and I met in high school when he was a freshman and I a sophomore. We became fast friends; singing in the school glee club, playing sports, and getting into mischief, and later followed the same career path. Our families played together, and we fought unfair labor practices as a team.
    And then the music died. Reconciliation evaporated the day they placed him in the ground.

  5. Marcus finally arrived at the cabin on Van Lake—his secret hideaway. This was the place where he could compose himself and where most of his ideas for stories emerged, but first, he would enjoy himself with some trout fishing and just communing with nature. From his living room window, he was able to see the vast lake and Mount Ararat jutting out majestically in the distance; it was truly God’s country.

  6. I never wanted a van, or a “Mom-Van”, as I dubbed it. I would never have the haphazardly tossed cleats and gear and soccer balls–never even have the salty-stale smell of fries lost amongst the seats. My body decided for me; I guess she didn’t want a van, either.

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