DEAR FAMILIES: SHUT UP AND BUY THE MINIVAN
You always say you don’t want one but, really, sometimes it’s just the best option
With two kids already and one on the way,
Driving around creates stress every day.
Dear auto reviewer, I need a new plan.
I seriously need to unload this sedan.
I remember, way back in the very early ’80s, standing next to a motocross track and hearing rumblings of The Next Big Thing. A minivan, I was told. Most of us had blank looks on our faces. One intent young man kept talking.
He gestured toward the row of Econolines and cube trucks in the parking lot, telling us the minivan would be perfect for everybody who really didn’t need these family-unfriendly shop vehicles. I couldn’t imagine what a minivan would look like, and consequently could only conjure up an image of Postman Pat.
Fast-forward a few years, and I was the proud owner of a (repossessed) 1984 Dodge Mini Ram Van. For Chrysler, it was the vehicle that would resuscitate the company; for me, it was the perfect-size cargo van (it had only front seats) that would allow me to run a business hauling all kinds of everything all over the country.
After years of paying ridiculous fuel bills on a full-size van, it was a blessing. With a little three-banger, manual transmission and 74 hp, no records would be set, at least until it became one of the most ubiquitous vehicles on our roads. And for good reason. Sheets of plywood? No problem. Motocross bike? No problem. Dressers, mattresses, boxes. I became the go-to call for friends shifting apartments, because there was nothing that little van couldn’t haul. I sold it with 240,000 km on the odo, and for all I know, it might still be going.
Pickups and crossovers and hulking great brutes!
And what is this something they call a ‘cute-ute’?
We just need room for kids, gear and Nan.
But please, oh please, don’t suggest a minivan.
It was gone by the time I had my first-born, though a seatless van never would have worked anyway. By kid No. 2, I knew I needed something bigger than the sports car I was driving, but the minivans on the market had one flaw: they had a rear passenger entry on only one side.
I had to get two kids in, and I wanted to reach them from either side. That may sound a little precious, but lifting a kid like that repeatedly can destroy your lower back. I ended up with a Ford Explorer — at the time, another vehicle that had created a new segment. Two weeks later — I swear — Honda introduced an Odyssey with dual sliding doors.
These SUVs — poshed-up pickup trucks — upped everybody’s minivan game. Not gonna lie: the higher, king-of-the-road feel to a truck is powerful. But for hockey-bag capacity, ease of entry for short legs or older ones, ride and handling, and keeping my groceries from flying all over the place, I couldn’t wait to get back in a minivan.
I’d driven and owned a lot of vehicles, and never felt my minivans were a negative statement about where I was in life. We drive what we need when we need it, and look as far as we can to the future to make the best choice. If you want comfortable passengers, the ability to separate your kids (especially when they’re in the punching phase, which is, be honest, most of their childhoods), and the invaluable cargo space you lose when you choose a clearance you probably don’t need, you need a minivan.
Car reviewers, salespeople, industry experts and manufacturers are faced continually with the same question from readers and viewers: I have a passel of kids, I have to lug around grocery/gear/grandparents, we now have to have two (or three) child seats, and I need something comfortable for long trips. But I don’t want a minivan.
Our answer is nearly always the same: Yeah, you do.
Though some manufacturers have abandoned the segment, others such as FCA are betting the kids’ college funds on it.
The new Pacifica might be the fanciest ride on the market, and kids love it. The Odyssey and the Sienna may be a little longer in the tooth, but the premise is the same. Going minivan for those years you really need it makes great sense, and you’ve never seen a happier kid than one who has her own captain’s chair.
A minivan means you have finally surrendered
A life that was cool, now barely remembered
Give me ideas; tell me what to do But no dreaded minivan, I beg of you.
Reviewer: You need a minivan.