Over the last few weeks, I've thought about minivans. I'm not sure I want one. I had a Facebook update within the last year in which I stated that I could see the practical appeal of a minivan. This admission brought many responses, some horrified at the very thought, some earnestly defending theirs or suggesting a cooler alternative (the Toyota Matrix, for example). Currently, I drive a phat '97 Maxima that wobbles a little bit, but it's a great car with lots of power and, as they say in used car listings, "many new parts." It was produced before the LATCH era. Its cup holders are too small for anything other than a paper coffee cup. Today's hipsters would probably call it retro and drive it ironically while wearing 80s Air Jordans.
I fantasize about vehicles a lot. I never really considered a minivan but have always had difficulty figuring out why even now, they're perceived as something to be avoided unless you wear jeans from LL Bean, have a permed bob, and allow your offspring to have popcorn on a rainy weekday after school. I can say that I would have bought one at just about any time if the price was right. In fact, that's how I ended up with a 1987 Cadillac DeVille in 1997. I'd been looking for something economical, like a Corolla or a Sentra, but gas-guzzling fate intervened: Elma F's old car, a trade-in, was up for sale, in fine condition and smelling strongly of lavender. It was a comfy ride, and the A/C worked great (the car it would replace had no A/C, and this was in Phoenix in June). For better or for worse, it screamed old lady from the inside out; the whitewalls and wire wheel covers put it firmly on the senior citizen side of the "old lady - gangsta" spectrum, which was OK with me. Bonus: The hood ornament had been harnessed to the horn so that anyone eyeing my ride for a free Caddy medallion via criminal means would be in for a loud and annoying surprise. Unfortunately, the homespun alarm sometimes went off at inopportune times, like at the car wash, at the Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru (Hurry up, man! I need my Coffee Coolatta!), or in the middle of the night during a rainstorm.
Getting back to minivans, since I've been thinking about something roomier than a sedan, my subconscious brain has been scanning streets, highways, and parking lots for sensible-looking possibilities. I've been brought back to the fun, somewhat juvenile road game introduced to me a few years ago by my old friend Miss Green: inserting (if you will) the word "anal" in front of a vehicle model name. I've discovered that minivans do quite well in this category. Anal Odyssey, Anal Quest, Anal Astro. On a related subject, Fords are the overall best make for the anal game: Anal Expedition, Anal Explorer, Anal Probe (of course), Anal Escort, Anal Edge, Anal Fusion, Anal Fiesta. And so on. If only we were in Europe, we could have the (Toyota) Anal Picnic! Perhaps this isn't a good way to choose a vehicle. The Anal Maxima will have to suffice for now. If an automaker came up with an electric or hybrid—say, the Plug—I might just have to rethink my criteria.
Rolling on the floor laughing. You really are One Groovy Muthuh!
ReplyDeleteAlas, my car becomes only the Anal 850. One would think the Swedes would come up with something more amenable to the game. Unless that's one hell of a train being pulled.
ReplyDeleteMy first car was the Anal 210. Not very snappy!
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