November 10, 1996

We were finally using up the roll of paper toweling we bought in Germany five months ago. Those absorbent squares cleaned the van when we bought it and they were cleaning it again. The polishing liquid from Sweden, the wax and the tar remover from Norway were all serving their intended purpose a second time around.

Never mind the strange looks we were getting. We kept polishing - wax-on, wax-off. We'd chosen a highway rest stop as our wash and wax center. There was running water and in Dieserella's condition (filthy after a helping of Morocco) she wasn't going to attract the eye of a stranger without a lot of help. And that's what we want, the eyes of strangers glancing her way, oohing and ahhing at her beauty.

As soon as we pulled off the ferry from Tangier and hit Spanish soil, I'd set to work on signs. We stopped in a parking lot and I plastered them to the windows. 'For Sale', 'For Sale', 'For Sale' they read. We brushed the carpets, we cleaned the sink, the stove, tied back the curtains and waited. Five minutes passed. "Why hasn't she sold," we both said. We were puzzled. But you can't judge a book by its insides. The cover too must be spotless (we were spot-full), so we moved on in search of a place to revitalize her outside sheen.

For two days our van was clean. Her engine was clean, her wheels, her bumpers, even inside the rim of the hatch where no one ever looks. But Spaniards didn't seem to be interested. Maybe we were being too optimistic thinking someone passing on the highway would flag us down with an offer. So we've moved on to France; if they won't bite there, we'll move into Switzerland, back to Germany if we have to. It just means more driving and while looking at our 1:1,000,000 scale map, it didn't look too bad.

But it is bad. 1:1,000,000 spread out to 1:1 is very different. With all this non-stop rolling, we are more than ready to sell. We should hit the Swiss border tomorrow. I've already got my marker poised to cross out this currency and write in another.