Is it just me, or does everyone steer clear of panel work vans?
Okay, it's just me.
My ability to park properly is dangerously hampered, as images of dismembered body parts dance before my eyes (and not in a kitschy, zombie party kind of way).
And if I spot a loner white male sporting a cast and attempting to load a sofa into the back of the van, I stay in the car, back not-so-slowly away, using my hands-free headset to call the local police department so it can run the numbers on the mud-caked license plate. If you are the owner of one of these psychopathfinders, please do me a solid and paint your phone number on the windowless sliding door. It will make tracking you down much, much easier.