18 February 2011 - 11:07Things I Could Not Have Pulled This Trip Off Without: The Executor

When I went to Avis to pick up my rental mini-van, I was informed by the surly counter lady that they didn’t have any mini-vans, and I was going to get a Suburban, and that she hoped it was OK because that is what I was getting. I thought about it for about .02 seconds, and decided I was fine with it, especially seeing as how I was paying mini-van rate for it. It greeted me in the parking lot, huge, dark grey and rumbling. I got in. We were going to be very good friends. I named it The Executor, after Lord Vader’s personal command ship. If you haven’t yet figured it out, I like Star Wars. Deal.

While the “real Executor” crashed into Death Star II (Electric Boogaloo) over the forest moon of Endor, this one has done a splendid job of executing people and equipment to fro SSAZ and everything else that happened around it.

It was stuffed to the gills with bikes and crap. Driven for 36 hours straight. Parked. Driven in some of the sketchiest road conditions I have ever driven in. Farted in. Eaten in. Slept in. Unloaded. Played airport shuttle on 6 different runs. Visited a strip club. Was pissed on. Puked on. Partied in. Brought people and bikes to and from rides. Got rallied off road in. Drifted. Rockford turned. Cranked tunes in. Got washed. Got pulled over in for a bullshit reason, searched, not once, BUT TWICE within 20 minutes (screw you Illinois Super Troopers! Don’t you have anything better to do?).

But most importantly, it brought people and things to the places they needed to be.

It got us there. It was dependable. It was beloved.

In fact, everyone who was ever near it referred to it as The Executor, not because that was the silly Star Wars name I had given it, but because it was exactly what it was and what it did. Without it, this trip would not have been as “easy”.

It was the party wagon. It was witness to all of it, and very much part of the story. And I will miss it. As you read this, I’ll likely be handing the keys back to the counter person at Avis. I’m a little teary eyed to be honest.

21 days, 6225 miles.