The Penske Diaries…
I think it was about 2001 when I rented my first Penske moving van, to be used as a makeshift RV. I had driven with a gaggle of my partners to Texas, in a freighted ford van, hauling more weight than its 302 cubic inch engine could handle. By the time we hit the wintry stretch between Little Rock and Texarkana, the plugs began to foul out, and anti freeze was seeping into the oil. It was only a matter of time…
We hit Austin, parked, and the Mark Ass Buster Van, as it was known, would never start again. An advertised christian garage (it had the jesus fish in the yellow page ad) run by a deputy sheriff, charged me over a thousand bucks in labor before he filled me in that it would cost 2-3 times what the van was worth, to fix it. He later Added that cliched phrase about Life, Lemons, and lemonade. I was not stoked, and neither were the friends who were housing us in their small apartment, for longer than they planned.
We planned on simply renting a van, and continuing our journey west, but we had a trailer, and quickly found out, no one rents with a hitch, except moving Vans. I soon found the cheapest rate, with unlimited miles, and about 10 of us piled in, and headed to california. We stayed in shitty motels the first few nights, until we stole enough linens, to turn the cargo box into a motel 6, or some shotty Hostel in europe… one night, Camping outside the fullpipe in Amarillo, the northern texas cold night, turn the moist ceiling into a sheet of ice, that turned to rain when it thawed in the AM sun. Nothing is quite as disgusting as indoor rain, from the frozen breath condensation of 10 sleeping dirtbags with bad breath.
As the trip continued, and the filth festered, we made it to San Diego, where Leland Broke his arm so bad it required surgery. He flew back to Kentucky, and we planned to drive back east to meet him.
Just outside Tuscon somewhere on I-10, we were stopped for what appeared to be a routine check for Illegals. They asked what we were hauling, and we simply replied -”stuff” . They were satisfied. Had they actually looked in the back, it would have been a sight,No “illegals” but highly unlikely it was legal, and no greencards…. About that time, it also became similar to the movie Outbreak, and one by one, we all got deathly sick. It was airborne. A stomach virus must have been thriving in that cargo box, we were so sick we barely made it to Louisville.
We recovered for a half a day in Kentucky, and headed into the cold New York winter Via Ohio….It was a 4 week adventure through the depths of all that is good and bad on the road with no money, and my drive back to normalcy was marked with the Somber news that My good friend, John Regula, had passed away, at the age of 27. He was a skateboarder, active in our community, and had gotten mixed up with some people we didn’t really know. He died of a Heroin Overdose.
The ground was frozen, and he couldn’t be Buried until spring. My other close friends and I attended the service, where the pastor scolded us, as if we were responsible, during his sermon. It felt terrible. It was May.
Ten or so years later, was the second time I had rented a Penske for use as an RV, the trip was filled with the same debauchery, irreverence, laughter, and innocent simplicity as our trip years prior. Makeshift travel, uncomfortable, kind of ridiculous, and totally fun. Gypsies…
Again we ended up in Louisville, sleeping in the box, while it rained, as we navigated our way towards NY, via Ohio. I was at a Campground in Ohio when I got the news, and Our friend Harry Callaghan had passed away. That’s his real name too, Dirty Harry, a skateboarder from upstate New York, and another victim to heroin use. At the age of 27 he died of an overdose. Once again, I was driving home, in a penske, with a somber tone, after a wild trip, returning to normalcy. It was May.
plush…
Leland in 2001….
Harry, RIP….
