Dismantling

Did I mention that our van died? I think I mentioned that I finally took down the kids’ old fort- the one that I had built for them years ago, but I don’t know if I mentioned the van. These events are sort of tied together.

Jake and Sam plying in the fort, many summers ago.

I had started dismantling the fort a couple of years ago, and then Jake got wrapped up in a project, which meant that I got wrapped up in the project, too. And if the choice is between working on a project with one of the kids or dismantling the past, I’ll take the project.

The next year, the same thing happened- or at least that’s the excuse I used.

So throughout last year, the fort sat in partial ruins, looking a little like the aftermath of a miniature Viking invasion. But this year, I decided it was finally time to finish it off. This ambitious decision was spurred on by the fact that a long weekend was approaching and there was a fairly decent prospect that the entire family might be together, and since the weather was predicted to be pretty nice, we might be able to have a cookout and eat outside- if we had a place to eat.

Our old picnic table had rotted out by the end of last year (or maybe it was the year before). It was a table that Helaina had built for a project several years ago while she was at the Tech School. It was a pretty big table, which was great when everyone was around. It could even hold an additional friend or two.

The table had been patched up several times over the years, but it was long past the point where patching was still an option. So it was carted around the backside of the fort where it sat like an old broken race horse, begging to be put out of its misery.

With the long weekend approaching, I would have to get a new picnic table if we were going to eat outside. And if I was going to get a new picnic table, then I had to admit defeat and cut-up and get rid of the old picnic table. And if I was going to cut-up and get rid of the old picnic table, then I really had no excuse anymore to not finish cutting up and getting rid of the old fort, as well.

On the Friday of the long weekend, I stopped on the way home from work and picked up a new, smaller picnic table. Now I was committed.

Once at home, I spent the next four hours or so, cutting up the old table, along with the fort and stacking the remains over by the van. The next morning, Sam helped me take the seats out of the van and the pile was stacked in their place.

Jake and I headed off to the dump. Along the way, we heard a pop sound coming from somewhere under the rear of the van, and it was followed by a groaning sound that, this time at least, wasn’t coming from me.

It turned out the rusty rear shock absorber had snapped off the rusty rear axle, taking a part of the axle, and the rust along with it. It also turned out that, at least according to my mechanic, you can’t weld rust to rust and that replacing components under the van, would not be unlike pulling a thread on an old sock- a rusty old sock.

The fact that the van was rotting out shouldn’t have come as any surprise. If nothing else, I should have taken the gas tank falling off last Thanksgiving as some kind of warning. But as with most things, I chose to ignore the warning signs- because that’s almost like not having the problem to begin with.

But the fort and table made it to the dump, and the van is finally dead. The last couple of weeks have been occupied with searching for a new car to replace it- so far in vain.

I don’t need a big vehicle- like another van. Other than moving someone from one place to another, or filling it up for the occasional trip to the dump, there’s really no reason to have something that big around here.

There were things about the van that I didn’t like. The pickup could be sluggish at times, and it didn’t get very good gas mileage. It could also be kind of hard to park- especially if you were in a parking garage. And over the years, the headlights had been getting kind of foggy- making it harder and harder to drive at night.

What I did like about the van was that, back in the day, it often meant that we were all together. Whether we were heading to the mall, or going on vacation, or heading from the cottage to the beach, riding together was part of the fun- and sometimes, the ride was even more fun than wherever it was that we eventually ended up.

But now the van sits behind my mechanic's garage- broken and rotting and awaiting its ultimate fate- just like the old picnic table and the old climbing fort had been in my backyard.

It seems to me that there is some kind irony in this- or maybe it’s somehow fitting, that these things are tied together- that the final dismantling of the kids’ old fort, along with the big picnic table, contributed to the demise of that old van.

Which is fine I guess. Nothing lasts forever- and anyway, there were things about that old van that I didn’t like.

Leaving the beach to go back to the cottage.