Recently, my friend got the word that her 1996 Plymouth van was dead. The vehicle, worth about $1,000, needed a $2,500 engine.

So after years of speeding to soccer games, baseball parks and vacations, it was on the way to the scrap yard.

When you hear stories like this, it is not surprising that our big three automakers are in trouble. All the years of mass production of plastic and cheap tin is catching up with them. To survive, they had to build vehicles to self destruct so we had to buy new ones, and couple that philosophy with the self-serve gas stations and lack of maintenance, they just don’t last.

I have a 1949 Ford pickup truck still going strong.

It was built by tough, blue-collar hands using steel and bolts and rivets and not spot welded by a robot on a high-speed assembly line. There is no plastic to be found and it is a rough ride, but 60 years later, it’s still here.

Back in the ’60s and ’70s it was a windfall to find an old van. They became poor boys’ motor homes, hippie vans or shaggin’ wagons. They were far from junk and lined the road to Woodstock, San Francisco and schoolyards everywhere.

The idea was to put carpet, usually garish shag, on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the dash board and the door panels. If you or your friends had some extra dough, maybe you added some diamond tuft vinyl or Naugahyde upholstery to dress it up. Then came the bed, often with the bed frame, ornate bed posts and all. Add a cooler or a small fridge and  it was home away from home.

I recently saw a van with $30,000 worth of DVD screens, stereo and speaker equipment installed. Back then it was an 8 track with some big speakers that could be set outside and a selection of The Doors and Janis Joplin tapes, the whole system designed to set your soul free and anger the establishment crowds at the campsites.

The wide Ford Econoline vans were the best. The VW vans were cheap to run and easy to convert, the ultimate hippie van. It was made famous by the line in the song Convoy, when a VW bus joins the truckers’ cross-country protest with ‘a dozen long haired friends of Jesus in a chartreuse micro bus!’

The paint jobs were usually worth more than the vans and were definitely an ‘outward expression of the owner’s inner feelings.’ You might see a big-busted Viking lady with thunderbolts or a cosmic display of the eve of destruction. Maybe a multi-coloured collage of singing artists or a floral display of flowers, sunbeams, and rainbows.

Then add in the classic bumper stickers, ‘Make love not war,’ ‘If this van is rockin’ don’t bother knockin,’ or my favorite, ‘Don’t laugh lady, your daughter might be in here.’

Hey, some of you are blushing! Did I bring back too many memories?

Here’s what we do. We find all those old hippie van builders, we supply them with all the scrap Chrysler, Ford and Chevy vans, we give them a government grant and they turn these scrap vehicles into low-cost housing or an Olympic athletes village! The ultimate mobile home park! In the mean time, check your oil, it might save you a buck or two!

At least that’s what McGregor says.