Date:         Wed, 1 Nov 1995 12:13:27 -0800
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         repark@srv.PacBell.COM (Bob Park)
Subject:      Nirvana

His name was Bob, he became known for his word, gifted to teach, rebuild,
and lead others to the true reward of their efforts.  On the night of the
evil spirits, when owners hide their 4 wheeled box to avoid the inherited
scorn of children who egg, mark or paper them (sometimes mistaking them by
color for the Great Pumpkin), Bob ventured forth to the FLAP to complete
his late night project.  Passing by way of the corner 7/11 at the stroke of
midnight, he sensed a thick veil of vapor oozing through the dark,
enveloping his porous bus, thus masking the world from view.

Easing to the entrance for refuge, Bob wheeled Grendel by heart into the
familiar lot.  He stepped from the van to the pavement, only to find that a
carpet of greens thrived where concrete once had lain.  From there rose a
path of steps and stones marking the entrance to a massive gate.  He
gingerly approached the barrier, wondering how he would enter, barely able
to see the outline of an edifice beyond it.  The fog was like cotton
batting now; only the gate latch could be seen, then touched, then
effortlessly the gate swung open.  As it unlatched the fog seemed to lift,
and here standing before him was a kind looking old gent with long robe,
and white beard flowing seemingly as one with his raiment.

"Welcome" said the personage.  "what the --, where am I" said Bob.  "You
have reached Nirvana" said the old man.  "But, I was just goin' out for
parts.  See my Grendel, that's my vehicle, needed a new rotor, and I was
just headed for the FLAP, uh, that's the parts store, when this fog fell
over me -  holy _, I mean oh my _, I mean, Jees, I, I."

"Quiet, my caterpillar, your venturing is of no surprise.  We have observed
your care of the old spirits of wheeled antiquity, and the devotion you
have shown to spare them in their time of need.  We have all seen the
example set by you and your disciples for the masses of unbelievers.  Now,
my patient one, is a time of your choosing.  You have been elected to dwell
here in Nirvana, if you so choose.  You may spend eternity here in bliss.
Let me show you.  Come this way."

The old gentleman turned with the silent rustle of his robe, and swung open
the paired entrance to the edifice.  Inside, row upon row, were wheeled
vehicles from the beginning of time to the present.  There were stone
wheels, wood wheeled chariots, locomotives, river-boats, and every wheeled
vehicle known to man.  There was a Ford Vicky, VW Beetle, Mercedes
gull-wing, DeLorean, Corvette, 240Z, Porsche 911S and thousands more in
neat rows extending seemingly into eternity.

"Come, caterpillar" he said, as he entered a central room, appearing before
their eyes.  Inside this large circular chamber were tiers of barn-doors,
splitties, breadloafs, Westies, vanagons, spotless and shining, as if
resurrected with new body and soul.

"Where are the Eurovans?", asked Bob.  "Some have not yet served to age of
accountability.  See, there is a place reserved for them when their time
has come.  If you choose to remain, you will see them arrive as your own
children."

"Uh, how about the other mini-vans, you know the Cara_ (choke) Caravans and..."

"Oh, there is another place reserved for them"  And the old man turned and
said no more, closing the inner sanctum.  "Now, my patient one, you must
choose"

Bob looked back over his shoulder, then thought about his love for the
split and bay window beauties.  This would truly be heaven.  They probably
have a full set of tools, and spare parts for everything.  "Hell__ I mean
heck, I could probably assemble one from spares, from the ground up.  I've
never done that before.  Close, but not completely."

Then he thought of his wife and kids, of the fun he had building together
with their encouragement, and driving the nearly created busses with them.
He thought of the list and all of the problems yet to be answered on-line.
He would miss the challenge of finding and bringing back to life the dead
hulks of long neglected VW architecture.

"I gotta go back"  he explained.  "They need me there.  Maybe some day, but
not now."

"You have made a wise decision my patient one, and you shall have your
reward in the timelessness of eternity.  But, go now--now that you have
understood that which you have in life; go and serve those that you love.
At times your efforts will seem unrewarded.  The impatient masses will
regard you as the cockroach, when traveling behind you.  Others will claim
the original title which is reserved only for the elect.  But, your reward
is certain and you have been found acceptable.  Continue in listservice
with the blessing of NIRVANAGONIA."

As he stepped back into Grendel, it all seemed like a dream.  But, he could
hear voices, seemingly a chorus.  There was John Lennon, Jim Croche, Janice
Joplin, James Brown, Elvis, Ricky Nelson and Jackie Wilson.  Then he seemed
to remember an inner sanctum with the inscription over it reading
'NIRVANAGONS'.

"Yes, this is a hard life, but a good one. We can do a lot of stuff wrong
and still get by, if we just learn a little along the way, respect
ourselves and humanity and also our near-human mechanical friends."
Carefully, Bob backed Grendel out of the 7/11.