Scott D. McLean, MD

I don’t know, I’m just a Ford Transit Trail with some campervan bling, but I thought everything was fine. But no. First of all, I’m alone. Not alone alone. It’s just that my owners have disappeared.

Last week, after we got back from our epic 3-month trek to Canada and back, they took everything out of the cabinets and the under-bed garage and scrubbed and swept and I felt clean. At least superficially clean. Isn’t superficial good enough? Then we drove to this place – the Ford dealer, the same one where I was sold into this bondage. Forgive me for the slavery metaphors – one of the audio books we listened to on the trip was “James” by Percival Everett. This was a clear DEI choice, and I’m good with that.

So we show back up at the Ford dealer, and I can smell all those new vehicles with their fancy new-car cologne and perfume and I see how unspeakably shiny their fenders are and I’m thinking to myself, “Oh boy, just you wait,” and they take me back to change the oil. Good thing, last oil change was about 10,000 miles ago and since then the fully synthetic 5W-30 has been churning around the EcoBoost 350 through Rabbit Ears Pass and alongside many miles of the Canadian Pacific rail lines through the high cold passes in British Columbia and Alberta and maybe the worst was the 10 percent grade of Teton Pass between Victor, Idaho, and Moose Wilson Road in Wyoming. I’d been flashing dashboard messages to the drivers about my “oil fatigue” during the last thousand miles of the journey. I knew the oil change was coming.
But that wasn’t all. Turns out I ‘m infested with a bad case of recalls. Transfer Case Failure, Tire Clearance Inspection, Cable Replacement, Steering Column Bolt. And I had a birth defect – an incomplete alignment of the left rear wheel arch cladding. Lord bless me! How’d I ever manage the last 20,047 miles?? They say they are waiting on parts, but here I am out in the hot Texas sun in the back lot next to some real geezers with transmission failures and shocks that are, to tell the truth, rather shocking.

And I’m lonely. After a while, when you are trying to be patient during a stretch of rough times, you have to wonder if the good times will ever come round again. There is that little doubt that gets a lot bigger when you are alone at 3:34 AM. You get a rainstorm, and then a dust storm, and you hope the owner shows up and gets you started down the road home.

Well, couple of days ago the man owner showed up and my figurative heart, and my dual alternators, leapt with joy. But he didn’t even hit the start button; he just checked on the EcoFlow power reserves, which are at 20%, getting good input from the two solar panels, output minimal – just a little for the refrigerator. He was worried about that. What!? Not worried about the rest of Milton!! I need little vehicular love and affection here! But he went away with the Ford service advisor, Thomas, who said he would make sure I was OK through the weekend. Thomas was in the USMC 30 years ago. You can always count on a Marine.

For my owners and anyone else out there who have realized that they made a decision that is not really working out, I just have this to say. It’s OK. Just talk to yourself about why you made that decision, and give yourself permission to rethink it, and if you want to change your mind, that’s OK. More often than not, choices are forced on you, and then it’s not exactly a choice. Free will is troublesome, and there’s a lot of pressure out there. Surprising we all aren’t diamonds at this point. But if you want to change your mind, or even if you don’t want to change your mind, start by being independent. Give yourself permission. I do. Everything will be OK.

Just come get me soon!