> what is the madness that we share in putting up with these damned
> things? art,  '82 westy (ex-'82 van, ex-'68 bus)

perhaps some 'real poetry' from a bygone era might help explain it.
or at least make us realize that we are not so unique as we might
think ...
others have done the same to previous cars in previous generations,
and likely more will do the same after we and our vanagons are long
gone.

    THE ENTHUSIAST
     by W. H. Charnock

  One man I knew put all of us to shame,
  He drove the last decrepitude of cars
  And vilely drove, his head among the stars,
  Bemused with wistful dreams he could not name,
  For just one year the too-devoted flame
  Against all sense and nature in him burned,
  Then, penniless with riddled lungs, returned
  Him to the sanatorium whence he came.

  To him it all was paradise come true;
  Down empty roads he knew the vestal light
  Of daybreak after driving through the night,
  And slumbrous crimson winter dusk he knew,
  Small pubs on moorland heights, the patient queue
  For Silverstone, the wilderness of rain:
  All this he tasted once and not again,
  For whom life smiled awhile and then withdrew.

  But we, who shared with him that halcyon year
  And pulled his leg because he drove so badly,
  Remember how he took to laughter gladly
  And gave no sign at all and showed no fear.
  If he is wakeful yet, then may the dear
  And tuneless music of that engine note,
  Which charmed him so, into his silence float,
  And all his happy miles again be near.

  And if he sleeps, then somewhere may he wake
  And find a wheel to hold, a road to take.