I’m not hopelessly uncool. I’m sporty. I know this because it says so right there on the side of my big boxy mini-van. “Grand Caravan SPORT.”

 I had never wanted a van. I was not a van person. I shuddered at the very thought of a giant, boxy vehicle roughly the length and width of a football field. Then I watched the rivets that adjoin the side panels in a garbage truck pass inches beyond my nose while my daughter, then three, wailed in terror from the rear seat. At that moment, as my cute little sporty sedan was dragged sideways in a sickening crunch of metal, I wanted an enormous, air-bag laden vehicle in the worst way.

We went van shopping that weekend.

I’m fond of reminding anyone who will listen that I was cool once. I have photos to prove it. In my semi-reckless youth I drove a seemingly endless cycle of bright red sports cars. The wind in my hair via tee-tops was something I was always willing to pay extra for. I can’t remember if any of those cars had airbags and anti-lock brakes, but I know for a fact that every last one of them had a kickin’ sound system.

Confession. Now, with six cylinders of raw, child-transporting power, comfortable seating for seven, a bird’s-eye view of the road, and enough drink holders to keep a soccer team thoroughly hydrated, I don’t think I could ever give up the van.

Seemingly overnight we went from a family of four that fit nicely in a four door car, to a family that cannot travel with anything less than an entourage and enough equipment to sustain ourselves comfortably for a week.

The momvan has dedicated cup holders for ten - count ‘em - beverages in a vehicle that doesn’t even hold ten people. That, my friends, is pure design genius!

Heroic. Four wheel drive. Forget about it. I have taken that van up a 1200 foot long unplowed driveway. No problem. Of course, Mr. Wonderful claims that the funny dragging noise it makes now might be a result of that, but I say I made it up the driveway and nobody had to get out and push. That’s a win in my book.

Comfort, convenience, and gigantic cargo hold?

The momvan truly has it all.

Well, with one exception. The only thing my momvan doesn’t have is a single ounce of respect.

When was the last time you heard someone describe their fantasy car as a minivan with storage drawers and integrated child seats? I’ll tell you when: never.

I love my van. It anticipates my every need and offers it up at my fingertips. Sunglasses cubby? Check. Drawers and cargo holders? Check. Stereo system with a radio that plays both FM AND AM? Check. Two or three separate friends call to request that I pick up their respective children from school? I’ve got it covered.

Superman had a phone booth? Supermom has a van.

I had pretty much hidden my secret adoration of my minivan from public view until I recently read that auto manufacturers are seriously considering doing away with the mini-van in favor of “cooler” vehicles such as SUV-Van hybrids (see also: station wagon).

As if station wagons were ever even remotely cool. 

My momvan can do just about anything that your truck can do - pull a trailer, carry lumber, move furniture. Better yet, I can bring my kids and a couple of their friends with me when I do it. We can even have a nice cold drink – or ten.

I’d like to see Carol Brady pull that trick in her station wagon. I mean, with the implementation of seatbelt and car seat laws as yet unheard of in the 1970’s, how many kids does a station wagon safely haul these days anyway? Three? Please. Three’s not even a crowd. 

When you can get half the soccer team in there, then we’ll talk.

Yes, it’s a grocery getter.

Yes, it’s a kid cargo hold.

And yes, it’s the sweetest ride on the road.

If you dare say otherwise, I’m cool with that. I’ve got a half-dozen kids and an mp3 playing Hannah Montana plugged in onboard.

Trust me, I can’t hear you anyway

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