VANdalized!!

Well, Jack was supposed to ride with a buddy to work last week so that he could drive the company van full of equipment home and leave here Sunday evening. But he forgot. Yep. Forgot. So on Sunday as I was preparing to go out and do some stuff with my sister, he tells me that I need to take him to his office—more than an hour’s drive one way to pick up the van.  I cancel my plans and drive in pea soup fog and rain to the location. We turn into the back of the building and Jack yells, “Oh my Lord. Someone has stolen the tires off the van!”

There sits the van, sans wheels, perched on cinder blocks. I think it’s a joke. “No you’re kidding right? Where’s the real van?”

“THAT’S IT! PARK THE CAR! I HAVE TO CALL THE POLICE!”

 Now that it hits me that I just drove this far in the rain and that this really is the company van, I can’t control my laughter. I’m leaning on the steering wheel laughing. “OMG! This is serious! This is no joke,” Jack counters. Nothing makes me laugh even more than Jack’s inability to see humor in such situations, so now I’m laughing even harder. "This was so worth the drive," I choke out. “Be quiet, I have to call the police!” says Jack. Even though it’s drizzling I have to exit the Jeep because I know if I hear him talk to the authorities, I’ll really lose control. I’m out! 10-4!

Jack exits the vehicle after making what I’m sure was a very serious report and circles the van, taking photos with his I-phone. “Don’t touch the van!” he commands.  “Will you send me those pictures?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. “Those bastards have even stolen the friggin’ wiper blades,” he bellows. This ups my mirth yet another notch.

Up drives Officer JB Bowie. He seems very sincere as well so I put my hand over my mouth to hide my uncontrollable grin. Officer JB looks at Jack and asks, “When was the last time you saw the vehicle when it had wheels?” This is too much for me. I’m snorting in an effort to repress myself so I turn and walk away, shaking. Jack says, “That’s my wife” as if that explains my behavior.  (When I think about, it really does.) “Oh,” says Officer JB with an understanding nod.

After the officer’s departure we must enter the building so Jack can make some phone calls. “Don’t walk around. Sit in that chair. You’re not supposed to be in here,” he tells me. Then as we’re leaving, walking through a pitch-black room, he announces, “This is the lab.”

“But I can’t see anything,” I respond. (Including my hand in front of my face.)

“Just walk straight forward and follow the sound of my voice,” he instructs. Then he stops talking.

I do some Helen Keller baby steps, whimpering ever so slightly.

Well, many hours later, another van rented and he’s on his way. A good time was had by all . . . well by me.