I searched RVs, campers, popups, trucks and SUVs to tow said popups and campers. Discouraged more and more, one after another, needing so much more work than I had money and having a too-small budget for something reliable, I found Thelma. Craigslist. Oh Craigslist, how I find so much on you. She was amazing and I had to see her in person. Two hour drive south, left work early, it was a nice day finally (after so much rain).
What a beast! 82,000 miles on the 30 year-old van, she smelled like old, but ran amazingly well. I was told she was owned and very much loved by an older couple who only drove her in the summer out to Montana and back. She had never seen winter roads and stored indoors when not in use. The fellow I bought her from said he had hoped to do the same, but didn’t have the time. I felt comfortable buying from him because he was a true blue mechanic. He had built several of his vehicles, a motorcycle, and some sweet flying contraption.
It was a noisy ride home because the windows definitely needed to be resealed, but it was so much fun, a smallish gal like myself, driving such a powerful monstrosity. And in came the name. Thelma. my means for escape from my wretchedly somber life. Thelma. It fit. The prettiest of the two thieving adventurers, I am in control of her. She is dependent of me to run.
She didn’t come with much. No owner’s manual, knowledge of her last changes, explanation of her wondrous quirks,
or the new tabs…