Here, In My Van, I Can Play The Last Tape

While Milo Aukerman and Bill Stevenson were hanging out in their van drinking bonus cups and waiting for no girls to call them in the middle of the night, little did they know that two decades on, van culture would be on the brink of extinction. The San Francisco Chronicle's Peter Hartlaub has crafted a loving ode to vanning; from '70s bong rips to '80s vigilante action with B.A. Baracus, to no-budget punk rock tours.

A few weeks back, we piloted an E-250 back into Austin from Lake Travis with a pile of drunken, sweaty, horny yahoos sitting on coolers in the back, the Texas late-summer night air streamed through the open windows while we wrestled with a bad alignment job as The Eagles of Death Metal blared from the stereo. Does it get more quintessentially American than that? Truckers like to say, "If you have it, it came to you by truck." And that may well be true, and we mean no slight to the Cledus Snows of the world. That said, if it's a good time, for many yeears, it came to you by van. Keep the good times rolling, kids. Support your local vanner.

Once, custom vans ruled the road. What has become of our glorious nation? [SFGate]

Related:
If It's Not a Scottish Custom Van, It's Crap! [Internal]