isis moonglow

Isis Moonglow traveled the country in her VW camper. She has traveled within this vehicle, created a home within the steel walls and maintained it’s shiny cherry paint finish since it’s purchase on December 31^st, 1969. Many who witnessed this purchase thought she was crazy for the sale, afterall the 60s had come and gone, who in their right mind would want to drive a vanagan if they didn’t have to?

They balked at her investment, thinking her to be a little too new-wavy gravy to make a go of her travel plans, and yet, here she is, still traveling, the vintage cherry vanagan still shining along the Dakota plains, through the valleys of the Sonoran Desert, and over the hills of the Appalachian Mountains.

Isis Moonglow traveled a circuitous route, which when placed upon a map of the continental United States would form the outline of some shape that could not readily be determined by the naked eye, but only with the eye of one who has seen things from the other side, only one who has traveled to the beyond and come back again could truly see the patterns within the laylines across the borders.

This van, her shiny red vanagan, has been preserved in its original state, every inch of chrome still shines, every hinge still hinges silently and completely. The only alteration to the van’s original 1969 vintage happened a few years back. Isis had been talking with a hitchhiker in upstate New York and while she was driving south on I-9 he told her of the advantages of using grease as fuel. By the time they reached the Pennsylvania border he had explained to her all the eccentricities and nuances of such a system, as well as convinced her that this technology would serve her well, especially when one considered the reduction in fumes and the vast quantities of used cooking oil when one was stopping at the ubiquitous fast food joints to make use of their facilities.

This one time she was at such a place she happened upon a woman who had the most fascinating eyes. Isis had stared at this woman for eons, she had admired the depth of the cerulean edges and the cascading rhythms along the azure rays, falling deep within the pools of ebony irises …

Until the manager had been summoned by said woman and Isis was asked to leave this fine establishment for she had not bought any refreshment. Those were his exact words! Can you believe it? “This fine establishment … refreshment …” what were they serving within those air-pocketed white rolls anyway, filet mignon? Isis Moonglow did not think so, but rather than debate this flagrant attempt at distraction by catering to the media-dependent masses and debate the banality of the urbane populous, she chose to get out of the grungy red plastic chair and into her shiny red vanagan, blowing French-fry scented fumes as she exited the cracked and bumpy parking lot.

However to this day, Isis Moonglow, still cannot remember the name of that stringy haired boy, was he even with her to see the despicable condition of those red plastic seats, how could they allow such flagrant neglect to be seen? Astonishing, really astonishing, to think that something once so shiny, so red, could one day be defiled and scuffed to such a state was too horrible to even contemplate!

Think of the colors, man! The colors!