There are plenty of things in this world that carry with them a stigma of adult surrender, perhaps none more than the loaf of wheat bread-on-wheels, aka, the minivan.
Your mother and I did what we could to avoid waiving the white flag on our youth, while still addressing the basic transportation needs of a family with three young boys. Your mother went the SUV route, purchasing a used Volvo on Craigslist. That went about as well as a logical person might expect someone purchasing a vehicle from a stranger over the internet might go. I decided I wanted to capture the nostalgia of my youth and went with a station wagon. Some of your earliest memories will no doubt be me pushing that car to the side of the road with you boys inside.
We both unsuccessfully delayed the inevitable for as long as we could. As of President’s Day (because that’s the day adults buy cars and mattresses) your parents are minivan owners.
I’m writing this letter to let you know that once upon a time, your parents were young, hip and edgy…. or maybe we weren’t any of those things, and embracing the minivan is the first time we’ve truly been ourselves. Who knows? All I know is everyone fits inside, it runs, and there’s plenty of room for groceries and strollers and even a little compartment in the back underneath the trunk where we can store our pride.
Now that I’ve fully embraced the suburbanite maturity that comes from driving a vehicle that caters to my need for comfort, safety, convenience, and minimal incidents of overheating and billowing engine smoke onto the freeway, who knows what sort of turn these letters will take from this point on? Will they be all about diversifying your investment portfolio, or recommendations on the best neckties to pair with your cuff-links? I don’t know- I’m new to this whole boring adult minivan-driving lifestyle. One thing that won’t change is that I love you boys enough to not care what I look like or who I’ll impress while hauling you around.
Your old, out-of-touch, minivan-driving dad.