Old gray van

(Actually, the title of this post sounds like the name of a not-very-good college band.)

The other day when I came back from lunch, an old gray van was idling, driverless, in the gravel parking lot across the street from my office. I saw it again yesterday as I turned onto the street where I work. Across the back of the van was lettered, "Church of the P.A.W., Savannah, Ga." There obviously had been writing on the driver's door and three lines of writing along the side of the van, but gray paint of a slightly darker (but no less industrially dingy) shade than the rest of the vehicle obscured all but this one line: "Come join us in the house of love."

Doesn't that sound like some creepy backwoods cult whose leader sets himself up as the father figure and makes all the hot young girls have sex with him?

(The creepiness factor is likely increased because I'm reading The Regulators by Stephen King writing as Richard Bachman this week, and gray vans and similar vehicles play a decidedly macabre role.)