Memorials

Later, when the trip went bad, I would remember the bleeding man on the bicycle and wonder if he was a sign of things to come.

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The van—a Volkswagen Westfalia pop-top camper that, from the moment I first laid eyes on it, reminded me of the Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo—belonged to Melody’s sister.

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Tamara Wise was six years older than Melody and more of a mother figure than a sibling. She’d bought the van used from an old stoner who manned the ticket booth at a drive-in movie theater in Richmond, Virginia, where Tamara worked as a secretary in a real estate office. It was the first vehicle she’d ever owned and she was very proud of it. Once she managed to accumulate enough vacation days, she and her boyfriend planned to hit the road and explore the coastline of New England, something she’d dreamed about doing ever since she was little.

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After a lengthy and at times rocky negotiation, Tamara agreed to rent the van to us for the princely sum of $300. I’d bitched and moaned about unfair price gouging, but after Troy pointed out how much money we’d be saving by not having to pay for nightly hotel rooms, the numbers didn’t look so bad. In the end, we each agreed to chip in a hundred bucks and share the cost of gas.

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To add insult to injury, Tamara’s rental agreement came with a hand- written list of rules and regulations:

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No smoking cigarettes or weed inside the van (Tamara was, of course, allergic);

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No eating food of any kind inside the van (can you see me rolling my eyes?);

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The van must be returned within seven days with the exterior washed and the interior vacuumed (reasonable enough)…