I'm Looking At A Bongo Tomorrow
And I'm shitting myself over it.
When I was a little girl, my Dad had a campervan. He had always wanted to buy another and go off around the coast in it during his retirement. Sadly, Parkinson’s and Dementia robbed him of that chance.
I was always fascinated with the idea of having my own one day, but I have never had the financial means to do so. Last year, my Dad passed away. He left me a little bit of money, not loads, but enough so that now I’m thinking of buying a beat-up old camper and doing it up.
The van I’m going to look at is a shell. It has nothing in the back, apart from a manky, infested-looking bed, which we plan to dump at the tip on the way home, should we purchase the van.
Now, I’m no expert on the Japanese-imported van market, but I’m reliably told that rust is an issue because they don't salt their roads and therefore don't treat vans with rust-prevention treatments. The vans make the long trip across the salty sea and the damp, misty air to reach England, where the weather generally piddles down for nine months of the year, and the cold months require salty grit to be added to the road. For the other three months, we all go back to the salty-aired coast. So, in all that salt, they disintegrate into a puff of rust like a Wicked Witch after a bucket of water, immediately on arrival in the UK.
Plus cooling-system issues, the head gasket, and a whole pile of other things I can name but know sod all about, and the fact these beauties are like 25 or 30 years old and discontinued, so sourcing parts will leave me skint for the rest of my life.
But I want one. I want one so badly I can see myself driving it. I have the inside colour scheme picked out in my head and I’m looking at solar power units and gas heaters. It seems there's a massive community of people out there who want or already have these brick-shaped, pop-topped items of gorgeousness and are very keen to see me join the gang.
Will I get the van tomorrow? I have no idea. I have decided I am going to get one if it kills me, though. My Dad didn’t get to live out his dream. Since it's my dream too, I’m going to do it for both of us, and know that he’ll be looking down and laughing as my van-to-be showers oil and coolant all over the place in a spectacular explosion on an A-road full of boy racers and Audi drivers somewhere busy.
It will be called “The Snug Bug”. All vans should have names.