The minivan is a cliche on wheels. It represents a total surrender to parenthood. It signals that the transition into an adult who cares more about function than form is complete. Adults who want to cling to their last illusions of coolness refuse to buy them despite all their family-friendly features. You can disparage their image, but you can’t deny their utility.
We knew resistance was futile and we’ve always embraced the idea that we would be driving a minivan sooner rather than later. Well, my friends, that day has come.
As exciting as it is to bring home a new (to us) minivan, it is always hard to sell the old car, no matter how inadequate* that car had become. This was the car we bought the week after I signed the contract for my first teaching job that was over 50 miles away. This car represents a time in our lives when we valued efficiency, when we traveled light. I drove that thing back and forth from Thorp High School to Eau Claire for a year, from Colorado to Wisconsin a half-dozen times over the three years we lived there, from Eau Claire to Platteville a hundred times, and everywhere in between.
I’m being overdramatic, I know, but it sort of feels like shooting Candy’s dog. I know it has to be done, but I just don’t want to let my little car go. The car is still a very capable car, it just doesn’t fit our lifestyle anymore. So I guess what I’m grieving is the end of that era of mobility and freedom.
Okay. I’m over it.
I love our new van! I love that we’ll be able to get in and out without door dinging the other car in the garage. I love that we’ll have leg room again. I love that this is the car we’ll fill with little girls and all their accessories when we travel to visit Grandma and Grandpa or just to the zoo.
*Once you install two bulky car seats, the adults in the vehicle were shoved perilously close to the airbags. I often had to put my purse in the trunk because it just didn’t fit anywhere else in the car!