The point of no return

Well, it finally happened – a day I have been dreading for months. It was the day that Pat took a saw and cut holes in our shiny, new van.

When you buy a van with the intent to build it into a camping vehicle, you expect that you’re going to have to cut holes in your van to install things like plumbing hoses, windows, etc. Personally, the idea of cutting up the van didn’t bother me until we were at the dealership ready to sign the paperwork.

Imagine this… we just drove hundreds of miles, across several states, to what we believed to be the only Ford dealership east of the Rockies that had the exact Transit model we were looking for.

Imagine our pulses quickening and our excitement growing as we took the van on its first test drive around the city streets. Imagine our expressions of joy as we delighted in every aspect of the van… blue paint – hooray! High roof – hooray! Extended length – hooray! Smooth ride – hooray!

Picture us, eager and willing, talking to the salesman, who also smiles because he is thrilled that he is about to sell us the most expensive thing we have ever purchased besides our home.

In your mind, hear the happy salesman ask us what we intend to do with the van and Pat’s confident response, explaining that we are going to convert it into a campervan.

Note the cavalier tone in my voice as I tell the salesman, “Yeah, the first thing we’re going to do is cut holes to install windows, and fans…”

Then picture me stopping mid-sentence because I notice something. No matter how hard this experienced salesman tries, he can’t stop an involuntary shudder from crossing his face. For just a split second, his brow raises slightly and his jaw hangs before he catches himself, and remembers that no matter how we doofuses plan to desecrate this perfect vehicle, there is a SALE to be made!

***

The damage, however, was done. I saw that fleeting expression of sheer horror on his face, and just like that, a small tear in the fabric of the universe formed, allowing a smidgen of doubt to suddenly creep into my formerly unquestioning mind. Now I couldn’t help but wonder…

ARE WE FREAKIN’ CRAZY?

What made us think it was a good idea to saw open a pristine piece of new machinery? Are we about to make a terrible and expensive mistake?

Whether or not Pat witnessed our salesman’s unwitting revelation, he appeared to have lost none of his enthusiasm. The pep in my husband’s step proved he felt nothing but exuberance.

While I drove away, leaving Pat to sign the paperwork and get the keys, I decided to put on a brave face and let go of this feeling of dread. After all, I could rationalize. We were not going to cut holes in our new van any time soon. It was still winter. It was cold.

So for four months, I enjoyed looking with pride and joy at our aptly-named Paddy Wagon, sitting intact in the driveway, big, blue, bold, and beautiful.

Until this week. The weather warmed. Pat pulled out the two Maxx Air Fans sitting in our garage. He set up saw horses and plugged in his saw. Over and over, he read a brochure containing installation instructions. He sent me to the auto parts store to buy 3M adhesive. And after he extended the ladder and leaned it against the van, he asked me if I wanted to watch him cut the roof.

Inwardly I cringed.

NOOOOOOOOO!!!

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch. The sound of the saw grinding into the pristine metal made my stomach muscles clench like I was priming myself to take a punch to the gut.

And for the brief, but interminable period of time that it took Pat to cut a hole in the roof of our lovely new van, I could not escape the reality that this was truly the point of no return. Up to this moment, our van was in its essence, still a cargo van. Not anymore.

It’s funny how a square hole could change everything. But it did, because now, we were committed to building our campervan. No matter what.

I doubt Pat was ruminating on the monumental importance of the moment as he went about fitting and gluing things, inserting screws, and doing whatever else he had to do to install the fan. But when he finished, he was eager for me to see the fruits of his labor.

I climbed up the ladder and examined a Maxx Air Fan, neatly sealed, popping up like mechanical mushroom on the top of our roof. And as I gazed at my husband’s handiwork, that twitch of pride and excitement that had so quickly faded with the flash of doubt on a car salesman’s face, burst back into my heart.

“You did a great job, dear!” I called out. “It’s PERFECT!”

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