The first time the moosh and I cruised around in rented wheels it was in this stupid thing.
The second time was the same model, just not a convertible. the moosh was pissed. But we did have satellite radio. (Which simply means two hundred extra stations of crap.)
Today however we hit the motherlode.
Cheerios ground into the carped and everything.
It even smells like a minivan. A little sour milk with hints of Goldfish cracker highlighted with notes of “New Car Smell” air freshener tree.
I can only think of Bill Engvall calling the un-tinted driver’s side window of a minivan “the goober viewing hole.”
the moosh digs the minivan. She even volunteered to sit all the way in the very back. So far back in fact she kind of forgot to talk my ear off. And then there was the air vents. She didn’t trust the overhead air vents, kept giving them the stink eye the whole way home.
As if I didn’t feel goober enough driving a smelly minivan with only one child, the moosh requested SONGS! Without my iPod the only station we were able to compromise on was “Light Adult Contemporary.”
Light Adult Contemporary=John Tesh, Kenny G. and Aaron Neville
It’s really hard to maintain any sense of hot 26 year old pride when you’re behind the wheel of a rented minivan singing along (SINGING! ALONG!) to “Everybody Plays the Fool.”
To make matters worse? If a door is open and the minivan isn’t turned on? The left turn signal blinks. It’s as if it’s mocking my embarrassment by winking at anyone walking by.
“SEE THIS LADY? SEE HER! SEE HER DRIVING THE MINIVAN? YOU! LOOK OVER HERE! DID YOU SEE HER DRIVING ME? YEAH! ME! WITH THE TWITCHY LEFT BLINKER!” twitch blink! twitch blink! twitch blink!