Since forever, vans have carried a lot of baggage. More specifically, connotations of sex, drugs, abductions, and homelessness on wheels (or cinder blocks). “All I need is in my van, man,” said someone likely named Freebird. Recall the old bumper sticker If this van’s a-rockin, don’t come a-knockin’? Or that other one: Don’t Laugh, Your Daughter May Be in Here.
There’s hardly a stigma anymore. Driven by millennial aspirants, burned out at desk jobs and seeking the open road and some sort of post-coronavirus joie de vivre, the van has become a new status symbol. (After all, a $267,230 R.V. is so very Clarence Thomas.) And it doesn’t just sit there and look pretty. It roams.
