Why I Never or Minivan Pride

I may have had a quest to not become cliche. 

Or ordinary.

But I never did say I would never drive a minivan.

I never had minivan pride.

Picture this.  In blue.  Which did not make it more attractive.

As evidenced by my first minivan.

A Plymouth Voyager with faux wood paneling.

Like the Griswold family vehicle.*

But a minivan.

That was old.

That we bought with cash.

When we didn't have much cash. 

 After the Voyager, I spent years in a Landcruiser.

Ten years to be exact.

And $837,689.23 in gasoline.

She was perfect for Alaska.  But not so great for Atlanta.

Years of dragging around the
truck type family vehicle

helped me realize that I never again wanted to drag around a

truck type family vehicle.

I wanted this:

The luxury of the Odyssey.  I'm serious.

Now I spend much of my ordinary day with my fanny plastered in the

ergonomic seat,

smoothly navigating traffic,

with my sunroof open,

and my dog.

And I feel lucky.

I like my office with a view.

And I know that my identity does not come from what I drive.

It comes from within.

And from cute shoes.

* Vacation with Chevy Chase--remember?
Just for fun, waste some time watching Swagger Wagon videos.