I spotted this strange vehicle in my neighbor’s yard. Pete collects old junk. He reminds me of a country song I heard last week about a redneck family getting ready to marry their daughter. The song bragged that the family had all of the junk cars towed out of the back yard for this classy event. Although Pete worked as a software engineer before his retirement, his back yard is cluttered with rusting mowers, bikes and assorted vehicles, suggesting a white trash background.
Pete lost his wife about a year before Myrna died. Dottie was a big, energetic blond who lead the Libertarian Party in Woodstock. She hosted a show on local cable TV. She would corner you when you were out for a walk, and pepper you with questions about your political views, and then campaign for her Libertarian agenda. Dottie dropped dead of a heart attack.
Anyway, back to this odd RV. It’s called a Vixen. The Vixen was conceived as a fuel efficient RV that would fit in a garage. For a full history of the Vixen, visit this site.
Only 587 of these queer birds were produced. On the highway, the Vixen comes in at 30 mpg, courtesy of a 2.4 liter, six cylinder, turbodiesel BMW engine. Yet, it is still big enough for vacation trips. Viewed from the outside, it looks like you might be lucky to be able to stand up in the damned thing. Once the Vixen is parked, you can pop up the roof so that there is headroom for a 6 foot 6 inch man.
The Vixen was produced only from 1986 to 1989. If you’re in the market for one, you’d better have some mechanical skills. Literature on the Vixen contains numerous warnings about poorly engineered parts and design flaws. Used Vixens can be had for less than $20,000.
A for sale sign now stands by the road outside Pete’s house. The house, once beautifully maintained and landscaped (well, except for the rusting hulks in the back yard, which I must admit are partially concealed by the forest), is now downtrodden and dirty. Rail fences along the roadside have fallen to the ground. The man’s heart and will were obviously broken by his wife’s death. I can understand. I struggle every day to want to live without my Myrna.
As Myrna said: “When a songbird dies, her mate will die soon after of a broken heart.”