In the summer of 1978 we finally made our delayed trip to California. We visited Linda, Dad’s sister, and her husband, Clint, as well as their children in Escondido. The van was great. Once, while on the freeway, the people in the next car were visibly counting to see how many people we had in the van. Dad let me drive into Las Vegas. At one time, I was driving with the speed of the traffic, which was very heavy, and we were going up a steep hill at 80 miles per hour. The van did what was asked of it. What heart!
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