My old brown van was a faithful friend.  Baby traveled long distances repeatedly and without protest.  Shabby and nearly naked of paint, she limped along on her second transmission her last few years, and I didn’t trust driving her far from home.  Last fall she died.  We couldn’t afford a new vehicle so I bought another used mini-van.  This one is white. 

     For a little while, the new, used van was without a single problem.  Then odd things began to happen.  It started with the door locks.  Normally they would lock when I hit fifteen miles per hour, and this was fine.  Now they lock, unlock, lock, and unlock while I’m driving.  I’m used to it now but this startles friends.   Especially when I say,  “Oh, did I tell you that my van is haunted?” 

     They give me that look normally reserved for the crazy people with the tin foil hats. 

     I hit the turn signals and the wipers go on, I have to turn them on and off to get them to stop.  Again, I say, “Haunted.”  I’m having fun but I don’t think my friends are.  I grin.  

     They laugh nervously and give me a sidelong look.  

     When I make a hard right or left, my wipers go on.  I’ve been finding fingernail marks in the upholstery lately. 

     It could be that my driving scares the crap out of them.  Then again, it could be the van. 

     I’m rethinking this van’s name I don’t think the one I’d chosen when I first got it fits.  Maybe Casper?