My Story: Helene, Howland Road and the Scooby van

Editor’s note: Xpress asked readers to share their experiences of Tropical Storm Helene. This is one of those stories.

My Asheville neighbor Matthew walked by my house one day and said, “I love your Scooby van!” That was not too long ago, but the name stuck. Then came Tropical Storm Helene, which devastated much of Western North Carolina. There were casualties, loss of homes, businesses and personal property. The van, parked for maintenance at Xpertech Car Care on Tunnel Road, was also affected. The business and the entire parking lot of vehicles were lost in the flood.

On Howland Road in North Asheville, a walnut tree the size of a train car fell on my next-door neighbor’s roof, taking with it a magnificent magnolia and weeping cherry tree. We heard a loud, crashing sound and discovered a chaotic world of fallen trees, limbs, branches and wires. My driveway became a meeting place for neighbors who shared feelings of bewilderment, anxiety and helplessness. At the same time, there was a sense of exhilaration because we were grateful to be alive and uninjured. Howland Road residents were blocked in on all sides by fallen 100-year-old trees. We had no electricity, water, internet or cell service.

One by one, neighbors came by to assess the damage. Trees were down everywhere. It was eerily quiet, and there were no sounds of sirens. We checked in on neighbors, including Juanita, the matriarch of Howland Road. As a child in Weaverville, Juanita did not have modern conveniences such as indoor plumbing. She still remembers times as far back as World War II. She was calmly making tea on her gas stove when I knocked on the door. Hurricane Helene was not slowing her down!

Even though our next-door neighbors had to climb over trees just to exit their homes, they still offered their generator power to anyone within reach. Cellphones and computers were plugged in and even trustingly left behind for hours at a time. Across the street, neighbors brought out a satellite dish and provided internet on their front porch. The stone wall of my driveway became a sharing station with free bottled water, sodas and canned food (fresh food would invite bears). Everyone in the neighborhood — friends, extended family and out-of-town guests — met for charging and camaraderie.

Since my van was at Xpertech, my lower driveway was empty, except for a porta-john that stood like a throne in the storm’s wake. When the toilets stopped flushing, I posted a sign saying, “Use Me. It’s Okay!”

On day four, it was time to break through the wall of trees on Howland Road. Brian, our newly crowned king of the neighborhood, arrived with a chain saw. My husband, Philip, got ropes out of the garage to tie to our 4Runner. Many neighbors arrived to help. There were another 10-15 of us standing around to watch the spectacle. It was tricky work to remove the barricade of wood without further harming the neighbor’s home. It was a four-hour process of scheming, cutting, pulling dragging, engine revving, yelling and finally, loud cheering. We were free!

To my astonishment, people did not leave. Most stayed talking and sharing stories. Then, another neighbor turned to me and asked, “What happened to the Scooby van?” A small crowd gathered around as I told the story: The Scooby van, a 1990 Ford Econoline Sportsmobile, lived a long and amazing 35 years before drowning in the flood! It spent most of its life in Salt Lake City before coming to Asheville. It was a great van that took me safely to all 48 states in the contiguous U.S. and much of Canada. Scooby was my home on and off during the COVID-19 pandemic, as I lived in the van while traveling extensively around the country. And, most recently, I camped for five weeks in Maine.

After the storm, I was crying while searching for Scooby behind Xpertech. Then, like an angel from heaven, my friend Callie came driving by. Her hair was shimmering white in the afternoon sun as she leaned out of the car window and said, “What are you doing here, honey?” I explained the van saga and asked her the same question. Apparently, the GPS in her car was confused due to the washed-out roads. Callie was out doing what she does, always helping others and making Asheville the best that it can be. She was delivering water and diapers to people in need. I knew at that moment that everything was going to be OK and said to myself, “Many lost so much more in this storm than a dumb van!”

When the floodwaters subsided, I was able to get into the mud-covered van to collect a few belongings and say goodbye. The first thing I put in my pocket was a beaded necklace that my daughter Kim had hung from a little hook over 20 years ago. I then grabbed my go-to camping pants from Thailand and finally my favorite Northern Exposure coffee mug. I said my final farewell and kissed the van door as I closed it for the last time. The one thing I left behind on the dashboard was the freaking Magic 8 Ball! The last message said, “Ask again later …”

Flash forward: On Oct. 6, 2024, at 2:45 in the afternoon, the Scooby van was resurrected from the dead! No, this is not “just-another-happy-ending” story to tell around Halloween. This is true. My head started spinning when my friend Brad from Lake Norman heard about the plight of the van and called me.

In his very Southern accent he said, “Damn, I love that van! Heck, I can fix anything.” Brad is friends with Junior, as he calls him, and is well-connected in the world of racecars. I quickly drove to the death lot. There were Xs spray-painted all over the van by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, and it was scheduled to be taken away for demolition the next day. I called AAA and had the van towed to my house. When the tow truck lifted the van out of the mud, enough water poured out, including the tailpipe, to fill a small swimming pool!

The Scooby van is parked in my driveway once again. It’s covered in mud and barely alive. Thirty-five years is a good, long life for a van. Am I wrong to try to give it a bit more time? The Scooby van has been a part of me and a part of my life and identity for a long time. There is no water to respectfully clean it, but I am doing the best I can on the inside with towels and creek water.

Western North Carolina is still in recovery mode and will be for a long time. The plight of my van is trivial when my next-door neighbor’s house is still covered in fallen trees. Will it ever ride again? I don’t know. After cleaning and drying the van for three days, knowing that I did everything I could do before handing the keys over to my friend Brad, I shook the Magic 8 Ball once more, and it said, “You may rely on it.”

— Christine Page
Asheville

Recently retired, Christine Page enjoys writing poetry, short stories and children’s books.