The Story of the Minivan

The registration is due for the first time on our minivan. We purchased it last year, our first minivan. It was a spur of the moment decision. Sure, we (and I'd like to clarify that by "we," I mean my husband) had been throwing around the idea for years, but really, a minivan? That just conjures up images of soccer balls and dirty sneakers and children jumping in and out all day long. I picture frumpy oversized shirts with yoga pants and coffee in one hand and messy ponytails and bleary eyes and basically, mom life, because who else drives a minivan besides a mom? I was not about to give in to the stereotype. Who says I need a minivan to be a mom? Not me.

Previously, I had my share of SUVs. There was the seven seater SUV (now I can't even remember what it was) with the gigantic trunk. I fit the double jogging stroller in there no problem, and tossed Costco groceries in with it. I had my coffee and my yoga pants, but there was no frump about it. Then that died and I found the next SUV. Again, seven seats, lots of trunk space, even captain's seats in the middle. This had the interior of the minivan, but really, it was an SUV. The doors still swung out, and the driver's seat sat tall.

Then one day my beloved SUV wouldn't start. Granted, I did strap the children in to their carseats and was standing by the car with the doors open chatting away to friends, but goodness, I don't talk that much. But when I turned the key to start the car, nothing happened.

Thankfully, the nice manager at Chik-fil-a brought out some jumper cables and we were fine (also thanks to YouTube because I had a funky SUV whose battery was located back and under the passenger seat. I know! It's supposed to go under the hood. But it didn't. YouTube was a huge help during this trying time).

Then it died again. I had to make sure I didn't leave the doors open for any amount of time, or the battery would drain.

So we bought a new battery and all was fine.

Then the thing randomly chose whether or not it wanted to turn on, depending on the day. Or the check engine light would flash menacingly at me. Not a big deal. I'm an introvert and all for staying home. So I'd wait a few minutes and try again. And again. And again.

But when my son went to the Emergency Room and the car wouldn't start (thankfully it was when we were leaving to go home after he was released, so we were stuck in the hospital parking lot), enough was enough. What if it hadn't started when we needed to get there? I've heard ambulances are expensive.

I thought about getting another SUV. I looked at the new ones (we were buying new so it could last as long as the kids live at home), but for some reason the newer SUVs are smaller. At least the ones I liked were. Which defeats the point, honestly. Don't you drive an SUV to take up space? To tower over the tiny compacts on the freeway? To show off your power and look down upon those who dare merge into your lane? Just me?

That weekend we traded in for a minivan.

I have to give it to Jacob, the salesperson who sold it to us. He was good. I have a deep hatred for car shopping. Something about being talked to about features and options and having someone in your face who won't go away and just leave you alone to think about things (remember, introvert?), just makes me edgy. Jacob was nice, though. And he didn't talk too much and answered all our questions and drove us all over the lots looking for the features we wanted. Yes, we still spent hours and hours waiting on paperwork and signing stuff (thank goodness the dealership had games to occupy the kids), but it didn't seem to take as long as I had thought it would. And now I have a bright, shiny, new minivan to last me for the next ten years (that's the plan, anyway).

I mean, sliding doors. Not just sliding doors, but sliding doors with automatic buttons, both inside, on the remote, and by the driver's seat. It was the sliding doors that did me in. Now we pull into a parking spot like we own the place. "Am I in the lines?" I ask the kids when we park. "Look at how we can fit and not hit the car next to us when we open the doors!" It's magic, I tell you. Pure magic. No more standing behind doors if it's windy, praying they don't dent the car next to us. No more telling the kids to wait to open the door until I got to their side of the car. No, sir. Now we have buttons. Push and wait. Then push to close again. We have conquered wind and tight parking spaces. Thank you, sliding doors on my bright, shiny, new minivan.

Although the first week we had it home, it was rear-ended in the McDonald's drive-through. By rear-ended, I mean bumped enough to damage the rear cameras. But the kids have quite the story to tell about being in an accident and how exciting it was! We had to give it back for a week to get fixed.

Then, we had a bright, shiny, new minivan with an even newer bumper.

Although not too long ago we were hit in a parking lot and had to take it back in to get fixed. Again, pretty minor, but enough so that the paint was scraped down to the metal and would have rusted would I have ignored it like I tried to convince my husband we should do. He wasn't having it. So now we have a bright, shiny, new minivan with an even newer new bumper.

Anyway, I'm a mom with a minivan now. Do I feel large and frumpy and inelegant on the road? You bet. Do I tower over the other cars and give them haughty looks when they try to merge into my lane? Nope. Will I happily trade it in for something completely different when the kids are grown? Absolutely. But do I love those sliding doors and not having to be blamed for the paint scratches on the cars next to us? Indeed I do.



Insert picture of Toyota Sienna in pretty ice blue color (there was a technical term for the color, but I don't remember. Feel free to Google).