Never say never, Part II. The beginning of the end.

continued from this post…

I lug my bag out of the house, down the stairs, and to the curb where my girlfriends are waiting inside Meg’s minivan, which will be transporting us away from kids, husbands and chores for a whole weekend.

Meg presses a button and, as if by magic, the back door magically rises.

I peer inside. There’s so much space! I toss my bag inside, wave one last time at Jay and CJ, and climb in back. Meg throws the van into Drive and points us towards freedom.

The music plays, my seat reclines, and we are young again.

As it turns out, this trip is the beginning of the end.

The beginning of my amazed admiration for the thing best known as the minivan, and the end of my snobbery against this harbinger of practicality.

We make the 7+ hour round trip in absolute and utter comfort.

And when I return, I start looking at my little BMW in a whole new light. A less rose-colored and more skeptical light.

$100 for an oil change? Who has that kind of money?!

It’s so SMALL. So crowded.

I can’t even fit CJ’s bike in the trunk!

And Costco? Ikea? I have to PLAN these trips to make sure I can actually fit my purchases in the car.

Yeah sure it can zip around the city at delightful speeds, but the cup holders leave a LOT to be desired.

And you and I both know that it’s ALL about the cup holders.

I find myself watching for minivans as I drive around Seattle. I notice the people who drive them.

Hmm, she’s actually cute. Stylish. Not at all lame.

I started noticing models and makes and colors and body types. I even started reading about them online.

Here’s the thing. Taking a road trip in a minivan is akin to just having one Dorito, or spending a weekend at a friend’s house with HDTV, or getting your hair done at the really high-end salon, just this once.

When you get a taste of something good… you’re gonna want more.

Suddenly I find that I’m thinking about cars differently.

Why do I put some much emphasis on the outside?

Isn’t it the inside that actually matters? Because aside from walking out to your car in the parking lot, the number of times that you actually SEE the outside of your car is pretty limited. The inside, on the other hand, is something you get highly intimate with.

There’s a greater life lesson here, I just know it.

Outside, inside… oh never mind.

So anyway, this weekend I find myself at a Honda dealership saying the UNTHINKABLE,

“we want to look at the minivans.”

We look at minivans.

And, you know? The minivans speak to me. The cup holders… the heated seats… the GPS… the rear backup camera… the infinitely flexible seat arrangements opportunities… the cup holders (all 12 of them)…

It’s like the whole inside of that Honda Odyssey is just calling out my name.

Jennnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyy!!!

How can I say no?

And so I buy one. (gulp)

Step away from the unsubscribe button. I’m bound and determined to prove that you CAN be cool and drive a minivan.

As a start, I’ve designed my very own series of bumper stickers. Check ‘em out.

And finally,

And that, my friends, is the story of how I became less cool but more responsible in one single day.

The end.
(but isn’t it really the beginning?!)

 

***
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Related Posts:

• She listens but doesn’t hear me at all
• Face off: Jenny vs. the GPS
• Never say never, Part I. In which I ask, "If my car doesn’t define me, WHAT DOES?!"

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