First I learned that you only need one to find your way Home.
Learning to be alone is an essential part of a sound mind. Then I found out it was only with two that Home had meaning in my heart and not just my mind. Learning to be with two, entangled for eternity, might just be the most impossibly worthwhile feast of the heart. Then I found out it was only with three that Home was filling, like cornbread, chili, and a spooky novel on a rainy night. Learning to be with three is sacrificing ice cream for month then finding 30 pints stacked in your refrigerator one unsuspecting night.
For those wondering about the truck. Funny thing. It took me buying a 20-year-old Japanese truck to feel like I fit in around here. I think that says a lot about a place. Shakas started flying, people waved me into traffic, I stopped getting dirty looks at local surf spots. On the mainland in affluent, white communities my ol’ VW van creates smiles. It is a symbol of freedom, of trading stuff for the wonder of nothing. In Hawai’i my ol’ VW van creates some scowls and second looks. It seems to be a symbol of whiteness, of conquest, of hippies and tourists (who rent them here). It’s finally time for me do some real restoration on the van, so we have a shot at keeping him in the family forever. I wanted Donnie’s companion to be everything he wasn’t – locally respected, good on gas mileage, easy to haul stuff, and off-road capable. But still with a strong spirit, of course. So welcome Pippin (or Pip for short) to the family. A ’98 single-cab 4WD Tacoma with just the right amount of island-cruiser to blend in around here. I now, officially, have an old vehicle addiction.