Herman Trafton is napping in the van's back seat. Wanda Hopkins is wolfing down a quick McDonald's lunch one row up. Adam Falkowski is complaining about the union, again. And near the front, Delaney Bert is watching Little Man on the drop-down TV screen.
They are members of a vanishing tribe, the well-paid manufacturing worker. They joined the factory right out of high school, some of them, and over the decades have accrued a good salary and benefits. And they are doing whatever it takes - even if it means commuting 120 miles round trip to Delaware - to hold on to jobs that will soon be gone.
They make cars for General Motors.
When GM closed its plant on Broening Highway in Baltimore in 2005, the veteran workers were given a choice: Leave the company or transfer to Newport, Del., just outside Wilmington. Scores of workers who were only a few years from retirement chose to transfer. But they didn't want to leave Baltimore.
At first they drove the hour-and-15-minute commute on their own. Then they formed loose car pools to share the burden of the drive and tolls. Eventually some of them decided that even the car pool was too much. And that's where Ben Harvin stepped in.
Harvin has worked at GM for 39 years, starting on Broening Highway's assembly line in 1969. When the plant closed, he bought a van (GMC, of course), thinking that he might become a private transportation provider. But the offer to transfer to Delaware came. He took the transfer and figured he might as well take a few friends with him.
Now, Harvin and six to eight passengers, depending on the day, meet at the White Marsh Park and Ride at 12:45 p.m. and ride together to Newport. When their shift ends at 10:30 p.m., they climb into the van and head home. Harvin, who always drives, charges his passengers $50 a week. They gladly pay.
They are refugees of sorts from another era. Between 2000 and 2006, Baltimore lost 21,600 manufacturing jobs, according to the Economic Alliance of Greater Baltimore. Many were union jobs and provided a good life to those with just a high school diploma.
"This is a good-paying job," said Adam Falkowski, who works in materials in the GM plant and gives his age as just under 60. "You can't find this kind of job anymore."
Falkowski came to the United States from Poland in 1982 and began work at the GM plant in Framingham, Mass., in 1984. When that closed, he went to Westwood, Mass. Then to Baltimore. And finally to Delaware.
"The American dream is, you work hard and you get something," he said as the van entered the blur of traffic on Interstate 95 one recent afternoon. "But now you can kill yourself and, forget about it, they close factories. They close industry. What do they build? Shopping centers and restaurants."
The van passengers don't expect the Delaware plant to last much longer. The plant now makes the Pontiac Solstice and Saturn Sky, as well as Opal and Daewoo roadsters that are sent abroad. But manufacture of those cars will end in 2011 and, in GM parlance, the plant has not been "allocated" a new product.
"Hopefully, this plant will be open long enough for me to get my 30," said Wanda Hopkins, who started at GM in 1976 but because of layoffs has 28 years of credited experience. Before boarding Harvin's van, she must first drive from her home in Pasadena to White Marsh, making for a total commute of nearly two hours each way.
Once she reaches Delaware, her job is not easy. She's a welder in the body shop, working on the underside of cars, and must wear a respirator for her entire shift. She gets terrible nosebleeds and sore throats. But she's not complaining.
"The economy's been hard on everybody," said Hopkins, 53. "And if you want the truth, we're grateful to still be working."
She's a lively spirit in the van, bantering with the men and bringing DVDs for the group to watch. They've plowed through the Lord of the Rings trilogy and have recently seen the Spider-Man movies and the comedy Shallow Hal. (Nothing too heavy or too gory.) Riders can also bring CDs.
"I keep threatening to bring in my Kenny G, but I don't want to put anybody to sleep," Hopkins said.
Harvin's rules are few: Show up on time. Take your trash when you leave. And no smoking. If the weather is bad, he calls the riders and asks them to show up early. On Thursdays, they stop at Boston Market for lunch.
Several carpools leave for the GM plant from the White Marsh Park and Ride, and another van departs from Edgewood, a little farther up I-95. The workers estimate that a couple of hundred Baltimore residents are among the Delaware plant's 1,400 employees.
Their numbers will surely diminish by summer. Last week, GM offered buyouts to all 74,000 employees represented by the United Automobile Workers. The union expects 15,000 to 20,000 workers to take the offer, which provides a lump-sum payment of $45,000 or $62,500, depending on position, and allows them to retire with full benefits.
A new UAW contract allows GM to replace the retiring workers, who are paid about $28 an hour, with new employees who will be paid $14 to $16 an hour. Bob Wieger, who rides in Harvin's van and expects to take the buyout, said the wages offered these days are unrealistic.
"It's something for our kids in high school, but nothing you can live on," said Wieger, 51, who's been with GM for 32 years. "How could they afford a house?"
Also expected to take the buyout is Ben Harvin, who says his last day will be before July 29. He's not sure what his riders will do, and neither are they, but he knows his days will feel emptier without the daily trip north.
"We do this every day," he said. "I think I will miss them."
For now, the ride continues. This week the group plans to watch Eight Below, a story of friendship and survival.
stephen.kiehl@baltsun.com