Flashback: Lyndsay's Van Life - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Lyndsay:

So due to MPI refusing to take an electronic title I was still waiting for the paper title, spent some time as a tourist, attached pleading signs to my van in hopes of avoiding tickets and towing, waited some more, lost out on a winter job in Vancouver, still had to drive a 1976 Econoline all the way back to Winnipeg with no guarantees that engine survived, got free drinks, met Crack Dealer Tony, and finally got woken up in the middle of the night by Crack Dealer Tony.

"Lyndsay! Lyndsay! I'm drunk! Let me get you drunk too so I can rape you!"


"Uhhhhhh... No, I'm okay!" I said.

"Lyndsay!"

"TONY! You don't know what the FUCK I have in this van! I'm some crazy fuckin' bitch from Canada! Back off!"

And he left.

He didn't say anything. He stopped yelling and was just gone.

I slept with a club in my hands.

The next morning, Sunday, I got up to go to the bathroom and wash up, get a coffee, Internet, tell everyone I survived the night.

And then I see Tony.

It was about midday. He wasn't drunk anymore. He apologized.

This is not verbatim, but this is roughly what he said. "I've never had a white woman sit down and talk to me like I'm a person. White women around here don't talk to black men like that. I got really excited and thought that there was something between us."

He was very respectful and apologized profusely. And bought me a Carl's Junior burger. Then took me to a free pinball machine museum.

It was Sunday and there was no waiting around for the mail. I spent a day being a tourist. I took a boat ride around Alcatraz. Then I took a tour of San Francisco's early underground, where actors reenacted organized crime, Shanghaiing, the opium dens and other sinister activity from San Francisco's early days. Then back to the van and sleep.

And Alcatraz.

Monday morning. Went through the motions, tell everyone I'm still alive, what have you.

I called up MPI and asked if they were sure I couldn't get the temporary registration from them with an electronic Title. They still demanded the physical Title. So I waited until 3:00 and made my phone call to the former owner.

It still hadn't arrived.

At this point I would now have to haul ass just to get back to Winnipeg in time to keep my job. I was upset. I went to my happy place.

A karaoke bar.

I sang some songs and then two Texans came up to me to chat. They asked me where I was from. I told them Canada. "WE LOVE CANADA!" They bought me a round or three because they liked my singing so much.

Tuesday. I'm in my last set of clothes, the ones meant for my interview that I'd missed. I've been pissing in a bucket, spent far more money than I wanted to, and I still had to get the van home.

I stepped outside and decided I would seize the day and try to stay positive.

A seagull crapped on my head and it spilled down onto my shoulder - the last of my clean clothes.

I called the former owner at 3:00 yet again. The Title had finally arrived. First thing the next morning I stood outside of Staples waiting for it to open so that I could fax the paper copy to MPI.

I sent the fax. Busy signal.

I tried again. Another busy signal.

I tried 20 times and got a busy signal each time.

I called MPI to tell them I was trying to fax them and was getting a busy signal. They informed me that they can't receive faxes from California for unknown reasons.

So I had to e-mail them a copy of the paper copy.

"So you mean to tell me that I need to e-mail a copy of the paper copy to you, but you won't accept an e-mailed electronic copy from the DMV?"

MPI's response? "Yes."

Now to drive the 1976 Econoline all the way to Winnipeg.

To be continued...