Yesterday I was sitting on my porch in my pinstripe suit with a light pink shirt and a blue tie, watching people walking to church. I was waiting for a friend to pass by so I could walk with him. Then, as I was sitting there, a heavy set guy who looked like he came from the Detroit suburbs right out of a Journey music video or Wayne's World called out:
"That's classy. The middle seat of a van. That's what I'm talking about."
He was of course referring to the van seat I was sitting on. We use it as one of our porch benches. I suppose it may have appeared that I was posing for GQ on that bench yesterday, and the van seat made up the difference. But, with such a classy piece of furniture, it's hard not to look at least a littler bit dapper. The seat is not leather, but car fabric. It's a typical gray seat you might find in a '94 Dodge Caravan (although I have no idea what year the car was). The seat has been there for years (even before I moved into this place). And, it has held up remarkably well. It was built to last. Maybe it was a seat from a GMC. Either way, I am honored to sit on it.
There was a time when I thought "let's get rid of that thing, it's so tacky." But now, I recognize its unlimited value. It is comfortable, reliable, and it doesn't smell. So many benches age poorly and become eye sores. Not this van bench. It has remained iconic and has its place on our porch forever. There may come a time when our society annihilates itself in some cataclysmic World War III, and archeologists will come back to that spot on my porch and marvel at the van seat. Either that, or everyone will digress to back to the Neolithic age and hunt in tribal groups. Then they will make the van seat their idol.