Date:         Wed, 8 Jun 2005 01:25:03 EDT
Reply-To:     THX0001@AOL.COM
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From:         George Goff <THX0001@AOL.COM>
Subject:      Re: Lighthearted Vanagon content - Boy or Girl? / Peh-leeeez,
              Kill Me
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"

In a message dated 6/6/05 3:38:33 PM, digidoll@COMCAST.NET writes:

<< Anyone else out there refer to their V'gon as a boy? I know the tradition
is

to call all things mechanical (cars, boats, etc) "she," but to me, my van is

a "he" - nothing feminine about him. >>

Now, this is a perfect example why there is no such thing as a Vanagon List
Archive.  Let's just refer to it what it is --- a data dump.  And, even that is
using the word "data" as loosely as possible.

The Vanagon "Archive" makes me think of my Sweetheart.  She just had to have
a file cabinet.  I told her to use the single, full-depth file drawer of my
drawing table since I no longer had it filled with the plans for the flux
capacitor.  She said that was not NEARLY big enough to contain all her vital
documents.  She wanted a four drawer, full-depth office filing cabinet.  I dragged my
feet on that number until I came across a nice three drawer,
pistachio-colored Steelcase file.  She didn't appreciate my downsizing her specifications, but
I knew she would be a sucker for the color.

A couple of weeks ago I figured that since that hulking file cabinet is
sitting there anyway, I might as well stick a couple of things into it.  One thing
was a single expandable file envelope which contained every warranty and user
instruction sheet from every power tool or household gadget which has come
into my house in the past 20 years, three to four inches of the stuff.  I knew as
soon as I felt the inertia of rest of the top drawer of Big Green that there
was no point in using that level.  I took the escalator down one story only to
find the same Tokyo-subway-at-rush-hour conditions.  In a panic, I ran down
the stairs to the bottom level, but I stopped short of opening the drawer
whenever I saw the "NO VACANCY" sign.

To gain accommodations in my Sweetheart's archive, I did the unseemly thing
of purging some of her vital files while she was sound asleep with our pugs
snuggled to her.  All that I had to remove were the programs she had saved over
the past dozen years from an annual amateur production of "The Nutcracker" in
which a niece's name appears.

The way they are now, the Vanagon Archives are like Fibber McGee's closet (do
a web search): whenever you open the door, God-knows-what will tumble onto
you.  The Nutcracker programs need to be purged or, better yet, never saved in
the first place.

George