I Love My Minivan (& No, I Don’t Care That it’s Uncool)

I tried my hardest to avoid this affair.

I run my hand over the contours of my main squeeze, admiring the details. A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as I envision riding my guy all over town. This is no minor tryst; this is a love unlike any I’ve had before. My husband doesn’t understand it, and refuses to partake in my lifestyle choices. But I don’t care.


My minivan is like my significant other.

I tried other cars before settling on my minivan. I had two short-term flings with sensible, reliable sport-utility vehicles, but the pull of the minivan’s power sliding doors was too much to walk away from. As I pushed the button on the powerlift gate and stared longingly at the rising hatch, I knew. In that moment I realised a van was for me, and I remember it as clearly as I remember my first kiss. And when I chose my minivan I didn’t trip over a tree root and fall on my face immediately thereafter, making my minivan a far sexier memory than that of kissing Dan McGee.

I’ve driven a minivan hard for a decade now and I can’t ever go back. Just this week, the kids and I drove 12 hours in my trusted steed and it was delightful; or as delightful as a day-long car ride can be, anyway. With the minivan, my 11- and 12-year-old can set up shop in their own rows, spreading out with all their electronics, snacks, blankets and books. Not once on my drive did I hear: “He’s touching me!” My minivan is big enough to accommodate all their wares, and then some. And I would be remiss if I didn’t say the inclusion of the DVD player really helped get us through some tough moments of child rearing.

I didn’t even have to hear anything about electronics losing power because there are power plugs galore! However, I did hear my son farting after we made that first stop, at the petrol station with the free mini-sausage samples. Thanks a lot. Super sexy. But at least there were minivan power windows to the rescue! And when I put them down at 110km per hour, all the dog hair from our two pups flew out the window. Two birds…one stone. And nothing gets me in the mood faster than not having to clean.

The minivan has long had a bad rap as an uncool mum car,  for being the cop-out of adulthood, but I should have embraced it the moment I became a parent. I can put a 12-pack of half-consumed water bottles in the cup holders, hold a week’s worth of cast-off clothes and shoes from the kids, and enough rogue snacks to feed a small village in my trusty carriage. He is better than a lazy Saturday morning lying in bed with your betrothed, legs intertwined…wait who am I kidding?! I have children, which means I haven’t lingered in bed for years.

I meant to say the first week of minivan ownership would be like your honeymoon, where all you want to do is stroke and spoon it, you will make plans of all the amazing things you will do together. You will fantasise about all the storage, and oh the shopping trips you can take. Your senses alert, you will stroll through IKEA and KNOW that chair or dresser can fit in your vehicle. You will have no fear as you run your hand over that coveted coastal-inspired coffee table; that baby can totally make the return trip with you. Fold some seat and voila, you’re all set for whatever your needs may be.

This car is made for families.

And if you’re alone, you can still do things like remove the seats. Though I end up sweating and panting like an out-of-shape lover, I can reinstall them without help from anyone else. Self satisfying… if you know what I mean. Yes, I have a deep passionate love for my minivan and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

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Image: Getty