Sometime back in 1995, my family got a minivan. At the time, everyone (meaning just about every family I knew) was getting one. We were two parents and two kids with a need for a new ‘family’ vehicle. The minivan was the obvious choice, and for the first few years, we loved that thing. It was our ‘new’ car and we took it everywhere. We went on trips all up and down the east coast with it. Anytime more than two people needed to go anywhere, we hopped in that bright, teal-colored minivan. (In 1995, my sister and I thought teal was a cool color and we just had to have it. Boy do we still regret that decision.)

In 1997 I got my learner’s permit and began driving it for myself. And while I jumped at the opportunity to get behind any wheel any chance I could, I soon grew to despise the thing. It was big and sluggish and a pain to drive (and did I mention the BRIGHT TEAL paint job?), and by the time I turned 16, I was avoiding it at all costs. Luckily, I had my own car by then, and could mostly steer clear (ha!) of the van, save for random one-offs such as family outings when my parents didn’t feel like driving, airport pickups, the hauling around of large objects, or that time I got in an accident and my car was in the shop. These instances would never be voluntary; rather, they were done out of necessity.

Fast forward to 2007. For the past 10 years, through high school, college, and my post-grad life in New York, I have never once thought about driving that van. When given the opportunity to take a car to school, my parents offered the van first and I declined. When I go home from New York, I use one of the other cars at our house. And though occasionally I have had to drive the thing around, it has never been something I’ve voluntarily gone out of my way to do. Minivans, quite simply, do not interest me.

Which is why my road trip to Ann Arbor this weekend (leaving in about an hour) is so much more unique than the ones in previous years. Because we’re taking a freaking minivan. And not by random chance or misfortune, mind you. This was carefully thought about. This was planned. Gas mileage, comfortability, and practicality were compared. Sedans and SUVs were ruled out.

For the first time in my life, I made a conscientious, calculated decision to drive a minivan instead of anything else.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, when talking to Briggs about our driving schedule this evening, I joked:

When dad wants to stop the van, mom and the kids better listen.

Yes. I’m renting minivans and making lame old people jokes. Next thing you know I’m going to be all “obeying the speed limit” and “recycling” and “balancing my checkbook.” I need to do something stupid and immature this weekend to clear my head. But not too stupid and immature…because, you know, I need to maintain financial stability and preserve my professional reputation and… damnit Amish, quit it!