Take me Down to the Paradise City

Wilton Misery Machine Origins: Take Me Down to the Paradise City
Saffron Dupont and Blitz Morgan stood in the centre of Bishop's auto salvage in Shelburn, Louisiana. Theo Ward sat waiting patiently on the bed of her black Hudson truck resplendent in the September sun. Her cowboy boots, sitting on the hitch of a trailer. 
In the rows of the yard sat a dishevelled 1966 Dodge A100 Panel Van. The paint looked rough, a peeling forest green, but it was mostly rust-free and intact. The chrome needed replacing or re-chroming. It was sitting on four flat tyres though the axles looked good, Saffron had an impact wrench and four good tyres and rims and a couple of trolley jacks. The steering column moved freely so they’d get it out of the row and onto the Ward’s Plant Trailer.   
“It’s just like The Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo”
Blitz enthused grinning from ear to stupid ear 
“These old Dodge’s were good, plenty of era-appropriate aftermarket parts, and with a little reinforcement to the frame, we can get a fuel-injected Hemi V8 in it” 
Saffron reeled off a few of her plans for it. It was a good excuse to spend as much time not on the clock at work, with the Morgans to get the van finished. In her opinion, if you thought you liked cars but didn't drive a pro street spec one you weren't trying hard enough. The only thing worse than that would be not owning a car at all. They lived in the middle of nowhere, and transport was vital. Not waiting for your parents or guardians to let you drive their Buick sedan or whatever. Saffron found it of Particular importance to have a car that can do a quarter mile in under ten seconds. The shop vans did okay, but this one would be built properly. 
“The best mechanic in all of the land is building a van for me. I’m a lucky fellow” 
Blitz exuded excitement  
“I was born in a cab over van, it was a Ford though, but I’ve always preferred this style.”
He continued 
“Roll those wheels over here and we’ll get started.”
Saffron instructed 
They had taken off the tie-downs holding the tyres and steel wheels off the trailers. Theo was presently rolling two towards the van.  
“We should call it the Misery Machine”
Saffron says with a glint in her eye 
“Why’s that?”
Theo asks 
“Because everyone who isn’t driving or riding it is going to be miserable, it’s going to be the fastest cargo van pretty much anywhere. It’s going to make Camaro and Mustang owners look foolish!”  
Saffron gave a devilish grin
“Not everyone can drive like you do Dupont. I’ll leave all high-speed driving to the professionals.”
Blitz assured. He’d just got his learner's permit and he wasn’t about to be driving around in the doughnut mobile if he could help it. He hadn’t earned his parents' trust to drive any of the expensive vehicles of the fleet apart from the M35 Del’s old faithful Deuce-and-a-Half Truck, which didn’t fit on any street to park, or in the bays and JCP, it didn’t have air conditioning or any space to shift people only gear. 
“You do know she’s building a Van replica of The Little Red Waggon”
Theo informed Blitz as Saffron changed the wheels 
“I’m fully aware of that, I would rather have it painted black though.”
Blitz threw a tarp over the questionable interior of his new acquisition. Saffron opened the engine cowl and bled the brake cylinder. No rats nests so far this was good. The wiring loom looked stock and intact. Blitz pumped the brakes, and they did their job surprisingly well. 
With the power of one farm girl and a power winch, they moved the van onto the plant trailer, and Blitz closed the driver's side door carefully, as Saffron and Theo chained down the van. 
Blitz felt an odd flash, like static electricity. He was no longer in a scrap and salvage yard in Louisiana with three crisp fresh fifty-dollar bills ready to pay Mr Bishop. He was standing on the hot tarmac of an airport. From the terminal it was LAX, it could be none other. Two large cargo jets with Dupont liveries stood with flight crews unloading them. The first was The Purple Peril, looking as good as that car ever did, so flawless. Just like its builder who couldn't be far away. Then there was a pearlescent black van. Being rolled carefully off the jet. The one they had just picked up. Complete Slot mag wheels, shiny chrome. Misery Machine was written down the side in stylised red gothic lettering. 
Waiting on the tarmac for the heavy-duty moving boxes was a twin axle U Haul trailer, and Theo’s 1947 Hudson truck. It was on California plates and had a CalTech parking permit on the sun visor. Saffron supervised the offloading, wearing flowing clothes and a large hat, if this was the future, she had not aged a day. She came over to the finished future Misery Machine to help Blitz load a sleepy but small young Alligator who had a spiked collar bearing the name Whally. Into the air-conditioned comfort of the van.    
A woman looked on, the aircrews seems to walk on eggshells around her. She observed the two of them loading the Alligator, but she seemed to really see Blitz see the teenage boy, not the man. She looked like Cher. There was something in her eyes though. Something mystical as if she could see all. 
Blitz blinked a few times as if blinded by the sun. almost falling off the trailer as Saffron saved him, from falling on his arse like a buffoon.
“Morgan, go pay the man.”
She almost whispered, setting him on a course to the aluminium-sided trailer by the yard entrance that old man Bishop worked out of.   
“He was right about the axles they held, so don’t try and haggle him down anymore.”
Saffron being all business was a comfort to him. Why had he just seen that vision, was it precognition or a fantasy? had the old wreck of a van showed him his future in thanks for saving it from this scrap yard purgatory? Any vehicle would be blessed to have Saffron Dupont restore and maintain it. She might be a record store clerk by name only but she was the best mechanic Blitz had ever seen. He and the old man weren't exactly mechanically inept themselves. Yet these days they didn’t do anything without Saffron looking it over first. Because she often saw a better quicker way of dissembling things.
Yet who was the Cher lookalike? Her image stuck with Blitz. He'd never seen this woman before it certainly wasn't Cher. There was something mystical about her. Like this wasn’t some swamp gas-induced hallucination. 
By the time Blitz got back with his invoice, pink slip and bill of sale. Theo and Saffron had loaded all of the tools into the trunk of the Purple Peril. Some international tractor parts were on the bed of the Truck, a side deal between Theo and Old Man Bishop. Blitz dusted himself down regularly and hopped into the passenger seat of the Peril, as Theo with the trailer took the lead. Slowly pulling out of the yard. Ensuring the cargo was safely strapped down and that no unseen chassis rust fell off it. They would find a roadside place for lunch. Before getting the van home and getting it on a lift to see what else needed replacing.