An Ode to the Mini-Van
Goodbye mini-van. You were a big, bulky part of my life for the past few years and you served me well. Don't take this the wrong way, but 140,000+ miles, you were beginning to make some strange engine noises, which made me a little nervous. Still, I want you know to that I will miss you. I didn't know Oldsmobile Silhouettes existed until I met you.
I held my head up high when I would hear the snickers of friends when I pulled up in a mini-van I said I'd never own. We knew better, didn't we? You were practical, damn it, and who was I trying to impress at this point, anyway?
I appreciate the way you went from 0-60 MPH in five minutes, sometimes less.
I'll miss the way you kept me alert and guessing with your fluctuating gas gauge. I had to chuckle with prank admiration when I ran out of gas pulling into my work parking lot last month. You really got me with that one!
I'll miss the automatic side door. I've never had one of those before, and they're really cool.
I will miss the cassette deck. At those times when my inner mullet was on full display, I'd look through the collection of cassettes that Shelley keeps wanting me to get rid of, and maybe bust out some Vitamin Z and we'd jam together. I'm pretty sure I introduced you to Vitamin Z, unless former members of the band handed a sack of fast food to your previous owner.
I'll miss the luggage rack, despite the "coffin" jokes it inspired. When the boys were little and sleeping in pack & plays, requiring most of the house to be packed up for a road trip, and we had a dog the size of a small Pacific island, your packing space was essential. I'll miss the ability to spot you in any parking lot, anywhere, due to the luggage rack. I'll never forget the first time I parked you at the airport and upon my return, despite the grogginess induced by jumbo Sam Adams I enjoyed pre-flight ("sir, for just $2 more, you can get a 32-OUNCE BEER!"), it was effortless to find you.
I appreciate the way you stood your ground when that woman side-swiped me on North Parkway earlier this summer, then was mad at me because I "didn't see her blinker" as she attempted to have two objects occupy the same space at the same time. I'll be she won't try to bully a Silhouette again in her little compact car! Ha!
Not that we didn't have our issues. I know that I often cursed the pull-out seats in the back, mainly because they sucked. And those straps to "help" me pull out the seats both tore off within about a month of owning the car. I forgive you for that, and that front headlight that kept getting water in it and shorting out. You probably need someone to look at that.
Through it all, you were a trusted, necessary monstrosity, and I commend you. Goodbye mini-van.
I held my head up high when I would hear the snickers of friends when I pulled up in a mini-van I said I'd never own. We knew better, didn't we? You were practical, damn it, and who was I trying to impress at this point, anyway?
I appreciate the way you went from 0-60 MPH in five minutes, sometimes less.
I'll miss the way you kept me alert and guessing with your fluctuating gas gauge. I had to chuckle with prank admiration when I ran out of gas pulling into my work parking lot last month. You really got me with that one!
I'll miss the automatic side door. I've never had one of those before, and they're really cool.
I will miss the cassette deck. At those times when my inner mullet was on full display, I'd look through the collection of cassettes that Shelley keeps wanting me to get rid of, and maybe bust out some Vitamin Z and we'd jam together. I'm pretty sure I introduced you to Vitamin Z, unless former members of the band handed a sack of fast food to your previous owner.
I'll miss the luggage rack, despite the "coffin" jokes it inspired. When the boys were little and sleeping in pack & plays, requiring most of the house to be packed up for a road trip, and we had a dog the size of a small Pacific island, your packing space was essential. I'll miss the ability to spot you in any parking lot, anywhere, due to the luggage rack. I'll never forget the first time I parked you at the airport and upon my return, despite the grogginess induced by jumbo Sam Adams I enjoyed pre-flight ("sir, for just $2 more, you can get a 32-OUNCE BEER!"), it was effortless to find you.
I appreciate the way you stood your ground when that woman side-swiped me on North Parkway earlier this summer, then was mad at me because I "didn't see her blinker" as she attempted to have two objects occupy the same space at the same time. I'll be she won't try to bully a Silhouette again in her little compact car! Ha!
Not that we didn't have our issues. I know that I often cursed the pull-out seats in the back, mainly because they sucked. And those straps to "help" me pull out the seats both tore off within about a month of owning the car. I forgive you for that, and that front headlight that kept getting water in it and shorting out. You probably need someone to look at that.
Through it all, you were a trusted, necessary monstrosity, and I commend you. Goodbye mini-van.
posted by Glen Thomas at
6:18 AM
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