I didn’t move out of my parent’s house for good until I was well into my 30’s. I’d leave for a while and some fiasco or bout of ill health would lead me back. When I moved back for the last time with my daughter along, my parents had a few nickname-worthy neighbors.
One of them was a young man my family privately called David Koresh, who predictably lived on a property known as the Compound. David radiated a half-baked, cult-forming charisma but lacked the looks or vision to exploit this charm. There was a small but shifting cast of characters who’d frequent the Compound.
David tried starting several junking businesses without much luck. For a season, he collected appliances from various curbsides on garbage day, but these washers and the like would end up in pieces on his curb within a fortnight of their arrival.
Somehow he acquired a white cargo van (the kind my mom calls a serial killer van) that barely ran, and he decided that he’d convert it into a pick up for hauling pallets.
Here’s what the van looked like when it appeared at the Koresh Compound:
These pallets were to be made from salvage wood, i.e. hammering together good wood from broken pallets he’d recovered from who-knows-where.
I’d imagine that economy of scale doomed this venture. Some of my parents’ other neighbors could not tolerate the noise and debris from the van make-over. Within days of its transformation into a creeking pick up, the authorities determined it was not street legal (with pressure from the neighbors, of course).
The van/pick up was towed away shortly thereafter. I did take a couple pictures of this gem before it was gone: