“I think we should sell the Volvo,” Steve declared.  “We should get a minivan.  It’ll be more practical for hauling kids around and all their gear.  Maybe we’ll drive down across the border and get a Honda Odyssey or something.”

Within weeks the Volvo was sold.  It had been a good car for us.  Initially I had scoffed at the thought of a minivan.  Minivans are for soccer moms who wear tapered jeans and have fuzzy hair, but not for me!  However, I gradually warmed up to the idea.  A Honda Odyssey could be cool!  I could rock the minivan, so long as it was relatively current and in a colour I didn’t mind.

So.  Can you imagine the sheer delight that burst forth from my soul this weekend when Steve pulled up into the driveway in THIS:

It’s a 1989 Toyota Barfmobile and I hate it.  Steve paid a thousand bucks for it and I was ready to knock his block off.  It’s painted a steely blue, the same colour of the cold tears I cried when it was parked in my carport.  Had I known that this was the van he had in mind, I would have never agreed to sell the Volvo.  Where is my Odyssey?  Where?

Steve’s reasoning is that we should drive this beast of a van for a year or so until we can save up a little more money to buy a better one.  He said that money is kind of tight right now.  I didn’t know it was THIS tight:

Yes, that is duct tape on the tail gate.

Oooo, there were some rather heated discussions spewing from this house all weekend long.  I was dragging my heels like they’d never been dragged before.  I pulled out the “YOU LIED!” card and then I tried the “It doesn’t even have air conditioning so Avelyn and I will seriously DIE in that musty excuse for a vehicle this summer” card, followed by the “Why don’t YOU drive it and I’ll drive the farm truck, you big meanie” card.

None of them worked.  And as we got to the root of the issue I saw some things in myself that needed adjusting.  Steve asked, “Do you think you’re too good for this van?”

“Yes.  Much too good,” I hissed.

“Well then, you need to think about that.  Because you should drive this van with pride, Amanda.  We’re lucky to have a vehicle.  And by driving this we’re being financially responsible so that in a few years we’ll actually be able to afford something better instead of spending money we don’t really have right now,” quoted that wise and learned husband of mine.

I took a day to simmer down and did a little soul searching.  So what if it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen?  So what if I throw up a little in my mouth whenever I look at it?  So what if it’s almost older than I am?

I am not too good for it and I am going to hold my head high when I drive it.