Requiem for a Blue Van

Van of blue,
Now I am blue too.
Because I don't have you.
Well, I still do,
but you don't work.

We got you to go to Utah one summer,
and then in the winter,
We took you to Florida.
We've taken you to Washington DC also.
And to Nauvoo.
I think you've been to Canada once
back before we had to have a passport to cross the border.

I apologize for all the trash
Katie, Jimmy, Paul, Hayley, and Matt
(and sometimes I),
Have left in you.
I also apologize for that time I broke
Your passenger side mirror.
I apologized to Jim too
He wasn't mad.

At first you seemed too big to drive.
But then you were my extended arms and legs
That went really fast.
Well, not that fast.
You are, after all, only a van.
And not a racecar.

Now you refuse to take me anywhere
unless we administer electrical CPR first.
Your windshield wipers go off when they are not needed
And not asked for.
You also make funny clicking noises.
Sometimes you ding even when the key isn't in the ignition.
The mechanic said you had gremlins.

Jim tells me to use the white car
when Paul doesn't need it.
I wanted to take the truck this morning,
but Jim didn't want me to.
He said there wasn't enough gas.

I'll miss you, blue van.