They see me rollin'

I drive a mini van. 

It’s a beautiful Chrysler Voyager, with white paint and black runners. She has leg room for days and a brag worthy safety rating. The kids have a word for that emotional pang you just felt in your chest: you jelly.

Admittedly, I have kind of always wanted a mini van. When my friends were lusting over the Dodge Vipers, and Chevy Corvettes, or, you know, other sporty cars and stuff, I just wanted a van that was big enough to carry guitars, drums and maybe an air mattress. I had dreams of touring around the country and sleeping in my van. Creating a bond between my vehicle and me while seeing the beautiful and hidden treasures of the road. 

There’s something about a car that other people don’t want or even find repulsive that I absolutely love. Like my previous car, Nifty. She just rolled with all the punches, never complained, and carried me through some of my most sincere levels of poverty unscathed. I bought Nifty for $900 under the condition that I replace the timing belt. After that, I spent roughly 3 years driving all over town, out of town, down dirt roads and back alleyways. I spent long evenings attempting sleep in the front seat, and filled the trunk with an unholy amount of junk from my previous job. Nifty didn’t care. She kept truckin. When she did break, my friend Trey would generously dedicate hours of free time to remedy whatever was damaged and always got her back up and running in better shape than before (like from this story).

When a car has quirks, it shows some character. It’s a window to the owner. Similar to how dogs and their people start to look more alike, I feel cars and drivers tend to share an odd and beautiful relationship. So now, when I roll up in my 2001 Chrysler Voyager, rocking out to NPR and desperately trying to help my daughter find the sunglasses she just threw with purpose and strength I believe to be rare in children her age, know that my sweet ride is a reflection of me and who I am. Before you even talk to me, you could know what I’m about. And right now? I’m just a dad that’s pretty stoked to finally have that mini van I wanted in high school. My midlife crisis is going to be weird.

tl;dr: Mini Vans, man. That’s where it’s at.