What could this bendy-loop-di-loop on a bed of last year's Christmas tree droppings possibly be?
From this prized, 1995 GMC Rust Mobile.
She now purrs like a 'Vette.
And shakes like me on Starbucks.
Just ask her proud owner.
My poor dad.
This van has taken my family across the country more than half a dozen times. We have a lot of great memories from those trips. But now that the seats are ripped, the cup holders are crusted over with coffee and melted candy, the windows don't roll up or down, you can stick a few fingers through the rust-eaten hole in the gas tank door (not to mention the rust that is consuming the entire van from the bottom up) and the muffler is sitting in the back seat, it might be time to trade the sucker in.
But I'm not holding my breath.
There's my grandpa's mint condition 1987 Cadillac sitting in the driveway just waiting to be put back on the road. So what if the heat doesn't work and this part of New York sees temps in the negatives for most of February. It's a classic, people. And it's my dad's back up car when his van gets a little finicky.