The van was 17 feet long, and handled quite nicely. All the tricky stuff is done with mirrors, except, of course, if somebody decides to tailgate, they become invisible. You have to watch for them, because they somehow get sucked into the magnificent wake of such a moving van as this one, and they like it so much that they stay there for miles. Every once in a while, they will coyly appear in the mirror on your left, and you think kindly of them for reminding you that they're there. You also wonder why they don't just pass you. You know when they do pass you? When you see a cop pulling someone over on the right shoulder so you move over into the left lane, just momentarily. Then your shy little buddy back there cries, "Ah! I see how it is! You're driving in the fast lane? In a moving van?" And overcome with righteous indignance, they pass you on your blind side, and associate with you no more.
I wish there was something absolutely astounding I could tell you about the trip, but it was quite uneventful. I saw three dead barn owls at different places along I-5. More interesting, I caught a glimpse of a very live tarantuala hawk, but we passed like ships in the night. . .no, really more like a wasp and a moving van in the late afternoon.
Against a lot of good advice from everyone from my near-and-dear to the lady at the rental place, I opted to drive the van back again, and the time limit I ended up with had me driving back the next morning, so I did about 700 miles round trip in less than 24 hours. Not a record, by any means, but quite enough driving for little ol' me, thank you very much! The drive back was terribly bland--not so much as a mud dauber! (If you don't count all those mysterious, unidentifiable splotches on the windshield).