Late December, 1996, Interstate 55 Southbound at about the Joliet exit.

I had been driving the 292-mile round trip up and down I55 twice a week every week for the better  part of two years; going from Northbrook to Normal and back.  I’d pick up Frank Friday afternoons at school at 3:00 and then take him home Sunday nights at 8pm. I’d seen a lot of things on I55; from multi-car accidents to truck overturns and fires to weather extremes to crazy drivers and a lot of Trooper activity. Tonight it was currently about ten below zero at around 10:00 on this Sunday night and I was on my way North to home. The faithful Astro Van had yet to let me down even in the most extreme conditions. For example, one early afternoon, heading to a meeting at Frank’s school and during torrential rains, I was the last vehicle through the Southbound blockade.  The road was closed at the Des Plaines River where it ran parallel to Lorenzo Road where the highway was under about four feet of water. I had been following in the wake of a semi, and there was a State Trooper waving for me to stop. I ignored him. I pushed ahead with water lapping over the windshield and pouring into the vents. The Astro van, affectionately known as “Grey”, got me through about 200 yards of over the windshield water.

Tonight was to be different. I was approaching the Joliet Road exit when the power steering went out and all the indicator lights on the dashboard lit up red. I exited and made my way to the Pilot truck stop just off the ramp. Once parked, I got out to assess the damage. From what I could tell by the parking lot light and my mag light, the serpentine belt that goes around the crank all of the accessories wasn’t broken so much as shredded. I knew enough to know that even with tools, there wasn’t much I was going to do at 10:00 at night on a Sunday without parts. I was thoroughly screwed. I got on the phone and called 501 (Pfingsten Rd., Northbrook) for reinforcements. There was a Christmas party going on at the house, but I was told that my younger brother Daniel would come get us. Us being me and the two hundred pounds of German Shepherds that were my constant companions. I locked up the van and went into the truck stop for a cup of coffee to wait the 45 minutes for him to arrive. I called back to 501 to tell him to find me in the truck stop diner.

About 45 minutes later Daniel runs into the diner and finds me, and he’s all rattled. It seems that he found the van, and was knocking on the side window, when Schön, the 120-pound German shepherd came through the glass at him.  I ran out to the van to find the 4’ by 2’ side glass laying on the ground intact and Schön sitting in the van looking like “I don’t know what happened dad…”. The four anchor points that held the glass in were blown out. Ok, I’ll deal with that next I thought. “Hey, Daniel, go get the car and we’ll assess.” I said.

Daniel ran off to get the car while I wondered at how a 120 pound dog went through the glass and just knocked it out without shattering it. Then Daniel pulled up and my heart sank. He had driven my mother’s brand new, just off the lot Saturn SL2 sedan. I was stunned. “You drove mother’s brand-new Saturn? What were you thinking?” I asked incredulously.  “And just where did you plan on putting two hundred pounds of dogs?” He just stared at me blankly. “And who is going to tell mother that we covered the interior of her new car with dog hair?” I asked him. He had no answer. “You couldn’t have driven the Subaru wagon?” I asked. He looked at me and said nothing. “Just go home.” I told him keeping my voice down as well as I could. I was too shocked to even be mad. And I had other issues to resolve.

After he left, I backed the van up against a building so that the passenger side was blocked up to the mirror against the wall. I headed back into the truck stop. In the store, I bought two rolls of duct tape. I pulled the van back out under a light and proceeded to duct tape the glass into the side door. Then I called a girlfriend and explained the situation to her. She was on her way immediately. She drove a Toyota Celica, and the dogs knew her car and that with the command “load up” they would hop into the hatchback. They had done it a hundred times before. She was also happened to be the CFO of the Lois Joliet Airport, so she had a few connection that she could call on. On her way South she contacted the chief mechanic of the airport and asked him to meet us at the van.

Terry got there about 45 minutes later and the mechanic (Greg) arrived a few minutes after. He laughed respectfully at my duct tape job. Once we stopped laughing, it took about 90 seconds to see the problem; the power steering pump had seized and shredded the belt. He said that he’d have it towed to the airport garage and have a new pump and belt installed by the next afternoon. Gratis for Terry.

I had Terry drop the dogs and I off at 501 and headed out to the garage where I lived. The Christmas party was winding down to a dull roar, but I figured that there would be food leftover and I was hungry. Not long after I got inside, I got chewed out for telling Daniel to go home. Go figure. There is an unwritten rule of the Livingston family that states that if anything goes wrong within 150 miles of 501 it’s Scott’s fault.

Terry drove us down to get the van the next afternoon, and as promised it was perfect. Well, as perfect as a 250,000-mile van can be.  I ultimately drove the van until it had about 360,000 miles on it.

It should be noted that the glass stayed duct taped into the side door for about two years. When it got hot out the tape would sag and the glass would droop and I’d have to re-tape the window in. After long enough I had Wheeling Chevrolet order the hardware to actually fixed it and did so one afternoon. It only took a half hour, which made me feel really foolish for waiting so long.

Yesterday on the road I saw an Astro van that had the L back window taped in with aluminum tape. I thought how much better that would have been to use, as it wouldn’t be temperature sensitive. But the truck stop didn’t stock it and I never thought of it.

At about 300,000 miles the van was broken into. My then wife drove it to work at a big box store with a huge parking lot. She failed to lock the doors. I kept all the tools necessary to work on the van in a box in the cargo compartment. There was a high-end Alpine stereo with a 6 CD changer in the dash. $10,000 worth of Snap-On tools and at least a couple thousand dollars of stereo equipment disappeared in a moment. I never forgave her for that.

When it had about 360,000 miles on it, I gave it to an employee named Dhanvika. I was working at my desk one morning in Glenview, when she walked in the open door. I looked up and saw a very Indian girl of about 25.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Will you hire me?” she asked.

“Why should I hire you?” I asked her not too politely. “Gimme a few good reasons”.

“I know code, I know hardware and I know Windows and Linux.”

“Where did you learn” I asked her

“Roosevelt College, Chicago” she said

“Do you know server?” I asked

“Not enough to brag about”

“Are you willing to learn?” I asked

“Yes” she declared.

“How much do you want”

She gave me a figure.

“I’ll give you $2.00 less an hour to start, if you prove yourself in 6 weeks I’ll raise it.”

We shook hands and I told her to come back the next day and fill out the paperwork.

She proved herself immediately.

Dhanvika had been working for me for about three weeks when she came in about an hour late with a black eye, a limp and unable to use her Left arm. I sat her down on the couch. “Who did this to you” I asked as calmly as I could. She just looked at the floor. “Do I need to call the police?” and she shook her head no. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” She shook her head no again. “Ok, so what can I do for you?” I asked. “Let me sleep here tonight.” She said quietly.  “Well, if you don’t mind sleeping on the couch from hell, you are welcome to do so for as long as you need.” I told her. “I’m going to leave you for about a half hour, are you going to be OK?” I asked. She said she’d be fine. I came back a half hour later after a trip to the Ace hardware store to buy a deadbolt for the inside of the door. This way we’d be sure that the cleaning lady or anyone else couldn’t get in.

A few days later, she went to her house to get clothes. She was accosted by her father, slapped across the face, and her house keys and car keys taken away. She was ordered off the property with what she was carrying. If she didn’t get off the property, they would call the police. She walked about a block, carrying everything she could, and called me. I told her that I’d be there in driving time. So now the girl is homeless, car less, family less. She has a job, but hasn’t made that much money yet. We made our way back to the office.

She sat on the couch and cried for a long while. I had no idea what to say. I sat down on the couch next to her and said “I know what we need to do!”. She looked at me funny and said “What?”. “We need to go to Home Depot and buy a fridge, ‘cause it looks like you’re going to be needing one.” She actually smiled.  We went to Home Depot and bought a largeish mini fridge.

It was later that week before I could put the funds together to buy a new Astro van. I signed the title to Grey over to her the next day. We found her a studio apartment in Prospect Heights for a reasonable price. I had to cosign the lease and vouch for her as she had no history.

She flourished in the apartment. The only problem was that her parents knew where she lived. She would look out the window, and her father would be in his car on the street watching her. Her mother would slip notes under her door at night threatening her.

She was driving West on Palatine Road one morning on the way to a client’s office, when the van just stopped. When she tried to start it, it just clicked. She called me and we had it towed to my longtime mechanic on Milwaukee in Northbrook. I got a call about an hour later. “There was no oil in the crankcase, no leaks on the engine and no new leaks that I can see. From what I can tell, someone drained the oil out of the engine. It’s sabotage plain and simple.” Said Carrie. When I told Dhanvika she just cried. That was on a Friday.

I gave her a ride to her apartment later that day. She asked me to pay her wages in cash, and lend her $500 in cash, I did both.

That Friday was also my birthday. An anonymous bouquet of flowers had shown up at the house. The card said;” I know where you live.” The florist that delivered them said that they were paid for in cash by an Indian gentleman, but with no other info. So now her father was playing games with me too.

I didn’t hear from her all weekend, which wasn’t unusual. Monday morning, she didn’t show up at the office at 9. At ten ‘o clock, I called her cell and it went to voicemail. At eleven ‘o clock, I drove over to her apartment. I went to her door, and knocked. No answer. I knocked harder. No answer again. I had keys, so I let myself in. It was only a one room apartment, and it was immediately obvious that none of her belongings were there. I looked all over for a clue, and there was none. Dhanvika had disappeared herself. A few days later I tried her cell again, and it was disconnected.

I wish her well.