One of the more interesting threads on the Vanagon List this past week had very little to do with Vanagons. Ostensibly about beverage holders and Canadians (are they one in the same?), I say “interesting,” not because any reasonable person should care in the slightest about either of these phenomenon. Although a well designed cup-holder is cause for celebration, the discussion is worthy of note because it was in a larger sense about community.

A successful community is an amazing thing because it is a whole greater than its parts. Unfortunately, the calculus which permits such emergence is unclear. It’s not simply about having a mass of qualified members; there is not really a community of toaster owners any more than there is one of brown-haired folks. The success of a community may once have been about location, but the Internet broke that boundary.

Obviously, for acommunity to work, something needs to be shared. Interest in Vanagons, a degree of fluency with English, and a tolerance of email from people we’ve never met are all qualities we have in common. And questions, answers, stories, and rants–in short, information–is the glue that keeps us together. We follow rules (mostly) about things like content and message trimming. But again, those parts don’t equal up to the whole

Kind of like the vans we drive.

I’ll admit my bias here: I grew up with VW campers, and so I own one now. Because I own one, I like hanging out with folks share that lunacy. I know there are other car groups out there, but this one seems more successful than most. I can’t help but wonder if some of that success is due as much to our differences as to our homogeneity. We are composed of folks who can rebuild engines blindfolded and those who believe both ends of a

wrench are dangerous. Daily drivers and weekend(er) warriors, Syncronauts and Westy pilots. Amateurs, vendors, mechanics, engineers, artists, and the odd philosopher swell our ranks. My, but we are diverse.

Kind of like the vans we drive.