For a long time, we were minivan parents. When we were young, we hauled kids in car seats. As we got older, teenagers sat silently in the back. The other destination of choice was Home Depo or the dump.
A van has absolutely no cool cred, ever, not even when we put the drum set in the back and went to band gigs.
We took the kids with us when we bought the van. Our Son barfed between the front car seats on the way home from the dealership. I thought Mr. Wonderful was going to have an aneurism. We didn’t call our boy ‘Wild Eurp’ for nothing back then.
The air conditioning died 18 months ago. Last week, the transmission went. Mr. Wonderful begged for mercy, but I refuse to put money into a 94 Dodge Caravan. He insisted on taking it to CarMax. Total value? $50, much to his chagrin. I chortled all the way home,
I called the Fire Academy and asked the question, ”Do you want the donation of a minivan and can I write it off on my taxes?” Yes and yes.
The minivan has earned a Viking Funeral. Fireman will place Crash Test Dummies and set it on fire, to practice saving people. Then, they practice cutting open a cooked van.
Finally, the van gets cool cred.