Minivan Initiation

I've lived in a suburban area my entire life.  My mom drove a minivan, and I swore I would never, ever drive one myself.

When I graduated college in 2001 it was the rise of the SUV.  I decided against one of those gas-guzzlers since I was fresh out of college and didn't yet have a job.  I also didn't want to foot the gas bill.  After all, for the five years previous I had driven a Toyota Tercel that cost $12 to fill up.  I needed something small.  I bought my shiny new Honda Civic and wore that car out.  

Ten years later, I'm in the market for a new car.  My life has changed since college graduation.  I have a husband, two kids, two dogs and no job.  All of the mammals in our house don't fit in my Civic. We barely fit into my husband's Nissan Xterra.  After weighing the pros and cons of SUVs, Crossovers, and Minivans we took the plunge.

We bought a minivan.  I did what I swore I'd never do.  And, I did this with pride and joy.  We purchased a 2012 Chrysler Town and Country Touring edition.  It's a sleek black with black interior.  At first glance, you almost can't even tell it's a van.  Who am I kidding?  Everyone knows it's a van.  But, it's my van.

After years in my Civic, now I have a van.  I can finally reach the drive-thru window at Starbucks!  I have arrived.  I can finally fit my husband, kids, and dogs in the same vehicle.  Although my van doesn't have a DVD player (who needs it with all the tablets and smartphones anyway?), it does have a back-up camera.  Now, I no longer fear hitting a child, dog, or mailbox.

When we got the van I immediately decided she needed a name.  My three year-old son and I decided she should be named Black Betty.  Not very original, but she has her own song, and, more importantly, my son likes the name.

Upon the purchase of Black Betty, my husband swore I was not allowed to put my initials or the little stick families on the van.  I also can't paint "Go #54 of the home team!" in white shoe polish on the windows.  I'm completely fine with that, and against those cliches anyway.

Although, within one week of having Black Betty I found myself in a driving cliche.  The kids and I were on our way to my husband's soccer game (he coaches at a local club).  I donned my stylish brown, knee-high boots, packed the kids in the van and drove off.  I stopped by Starbucks on the way to pick up my Pumpkin Spice Latte (soy milk, please).  As I was talking to my husband through the van's bluetooth, I realized what a cliche I was.  And, you know what?  It was awesome.

I love suburbia.