My life is a contradiction, the most disturbing of which is the fact that I drive a minivan.  It’s not even a slick one; you know the ones with televisions, heated seats, automatic doors and real windows everywhere that open.  Now, I’m young (enough), and cool (enough) , yet everyday I get behind the wheel of a silver turtle on wheels.  While the minivan offers many amenities, such as the ability to tote my kids, without having to strap someone to the trunk, it comes at a steep price.  It instantly zaps all my sex appeal.  It is the place where my sexiness goes to die. I mean, I don’t have to worry about a carload of creepy dudes rolling up alongside of me trying to holler, but short of that, it provides little comfort.  It’s like a magical minivan, that regardless of what I’m wearing or how cute I was in the house, I’m frumpy as soon as I get behind the wheel.  It is just ridiculous; I am now to the point, where I’d rather borrow a car than push the Caravan, sport edition or not. That’s a contradiction right there, how can a box on wheels ever be “sporty”?  Maybe the sport they were referring to was curling…

In addition to the travesty of turning me into a nun of sorts, it also simultaneously makes me corny.  I just don’t feel right blasting The Noisettes in my minivan.  It’s more of a smooth jazz car, and I hate smooth jazz.  I don’t even think that I can pull off acid jazz in the thing.  So, I have resigned myself to listening to the local “grown up” station and usually find myself listening to NPR.  Although, I value my driveway moments and love a classic Kool and the Gang song as much as the next person, I want to pull up to the light playing the new hot song, without people looking at me like I’m a crazy old lady.  Case in point:  The other day my daughters found a cassette recorder and began taping funny family interviews; I was thrilled that they were being creative and using old school methods. My thrill was soon met with sadness, upon realizing that my vehicle was still equipped with a cassette player.  Now, Boney James, This American Life and Lionel Richie are even too cool for me, I’m rolling listening to my kids bicker on tape.  Imagine the looks I get as I pull up to the light now.

Last week, my breaks started to squeak. So, on top of being morphed into the love child of Pat  and Urkel every time I sit in the bugger, I now sound as if I have a hoard of crickets following me.  Well, the line had to be drawn somewhere and while cuteness and coolness seem to reign supreme, I had to fork over cash for safety.  I dropped the minivan off at the shop and was picked up by my mother in her Volvo station wagon,which has a cassette player.  Well damn, at least the silver turtle seats 7 (and has a CD player).  Life lesson: Comparison is lethal to contentment, so learn to appreciate what you have.

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Written by Niambi Dawn on Friday, August 7, 2009 
Filed under Everyday Life, Guest Articles, Married Life · Tagged with cool, minivan, Music, sex appeal, Volvo