It is with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of a titan. Black Angus, our 1991 Chevy Astro, has passed on, having reached a respectable 240,000 miles (just short of the quarter million I thought it would make it...). Although he still ran well except for some transmission slippage, I was able to sell the van, so it was really time to move on.
I purchased the van from family my junior year of college, and it faithfully served my every wish for more years than it was meant to last. It accompanied me on cross-country treks, hauled anything I put in it without complaining (I topped 1800 pounds in one load I ran about 35 miles during rush hour). Angus carried friends (up to eight at a time), let me empty my dorm room in a single load (as well as pick up treasures left behind by others who lacked such help), helped with finding and retrieving bargain furniture, and taught me a significant portion of what I know about repairs (you can ask Joanna about repairs on the fly in the hills of West Virginia). In the first few years I owned it, there were a few scares with safety and emissions inspections, but the last few years it breezed through. I hit a deer once, but the van didn't even really notice. It had enough ground clearance that I cleared another deer which had already been hit and left in the middle of the lane on a blind curve.
I broke my arm falling off Angus's roof.
Angus had a significant role in my courtship of Jenny, providing transport to events and meals for dates. I picked Jenny up from the airport in Angus once (long before we thought anything each other). We had a number of important conversations in the van, including before we were officially going out, when the cargo capacity was "important" for Eden Troupe supply runs. During the time we were living a ways apart, the noble beast of burden was a symbol of our going any length to see each other. Angus was our getaway car at our wedding. We also drove straight out to New Mexico together, and when we loaded up all Jenny's stuff in the back, Angus still had enough sprightliness to cross a median ditch in the hills of Tennessee on the way back. The van gave us the room (on the inside) to haul our bikes to various spots in the area, an activity we enjoy very much.
A few weeks ago, Jenny took the van to work and called reporting a racing noise on acceleration. Analysis the next day revealed that the gear shift from 2nd to 3rd was slipping, effectively limiting the van to 45 miles per hour. Having replaced the transmission once already, (and there being other limitations such as no functional air conditioning), we decided against further repair.
Black Angus, you are gone but not forgotten.
He will primarily be the transport system of the Brain, but the Heart actually did the work to put him on the road. So, she likes him too. But not as much as the Brain does.
