No Vacation Goes Unpunished

Chapter 8: A Man And His Minivan (“Wow, This Thing Does Have A Lot Of Cup Holders!”)

There is a certain period in a man’s life that officially ends when he purchases his first minivan. He knows this. The world knows this. Mourning is appropriate…

But only for a moment.

The reason for purchasing a minivan is usually a growing family, which is worth far more than the mythical ‘lost freedom’ of your first vehicle. For me, it was a beautiful red pickup truck that allowed my friends to hang out in the back and me to camp out by the river. However, that rolling fortress of an automobile will create its own great memories in time, and you get a heck of a lot more cup holders.

Due to a small fender-bender involving my family’s beloved minivan, “Mrs. Pettigrew” (a wonderful English nanny of a vehicle), I found myself at my collision shops’ rental car station with the exciting prospect of a new car for the week on the insurance company’s dime.

SUV…SUV… I kept saying silently over and over to myself as I sat at the rental desk, as if I might subliminally influence the rental car agent’s decision.

I then switched to silently chanting, Zippy sports car…zippy sports car…because I realized that I should shoot higher and go for the brass ring. After all, this was my chance to zoom around the roads of our beloved state with the top down on a gorgeous sports car. The glorious sunshine had finally graced us here in the Great White North and I already dreamed of taking advantage of the rare situation.

Also, how cool of a dad would I be, revving up to my daughter’s school in a flaming red… anything?

I had already picked out my “sports car soundtrack” for the week. A little Springsteen, a bit of Mozart (that really turns the heads of the bystanders at the crosswalk), topped off with any number of the Beach Boys’ ideal “car songs” (I Get Around, Little Deuce Coupe, etc.).

I was mid-fantasy when the helpful agent returned to the office and handed me a set of keys, saying, “Mr. Caldwell, your minivan rental is all set to go.”

“Wait. Minivan rental? Do you have an SUV or…something else available?”

“When the insurance company is paying for the rental, Mr. Caldwell, they stipulate that the rental must match, as closely as possible, the vehicle that is being worked on.”

In other words, “No sports car for you! Come back in three days.”

After I took a minute to shake the remainder of the fantasy from my mind…I’m going to drive around with the top down; I’m going to have a head full of glorious, waving hair!... I accepted the keys and made my way out to the parking lot.

The van is not all that bad; besides the aforementioned 207 cup holders, the cleanliness of the vehicle seems worth the whole fender-bender hassle itself.

There were no Cheerios ground into every carpeted inch, and the windows were devoid of the greasy handprints that I am so used to, making it actually possible to see the road without squinting and wondering what approaching objects actually are. (“Is that a moose or a squirrel? Oh, sorry, Mrs. Anderson!”)

And the stereo…oh my…the stereo.

That was the first time that I had the pleasure of listening to satellite radio, and I didn’t think I would ever be able to go back to regular FM/AM after those few days of musical nirvana.

There are more than 160 Sirius Satellite radio stations and there is legitimately something for every kind of listener imaginable. There is the all-Willie Nelson channel, which is whole lot of Willie, even for a fan like myself, the all-Bruce Springsteen channel, the Howard Stern channel (even one minute of Mr. Stern is too much for yours truly), and a great kid’s music channel that boasts about having played all 927 versions of “There’s A Hole In The Bucket Dear Liza.”

So, to all you prospective family men out there, do not fear the minivan. Indeed, I urge you to embrace this transition in your life. There will be years ahead of you in which to have that long-awaited midlife crisis and buy the sports car of your dreams. For now, I say, “Be proud of your minivan. Go get racing stripes and flame decals if you must, but rejoice in the family that your new vehicle now houses (literally) as you cruise down the highway.”

You will never have that many cup holders again.