This is Me and This is My Van

My van and I spent many a dark summer night traversing ribbons of blacktop.  Just me and the 18 wheelers, ending streams of them pushing into the blackness.  I would fly past them on my downward ride from the hilltops, only to be passed by them trudging up the next hill. Stooped over the wheel, listening to cassette tapes or AM radio bouncing from St. Louis or Memphis, TN.  My was I poor in those days.  Oh was I happy.