I wish I had my minivan back.

I know. It’s not often you hear someone wishing for a minivan. Least of all an old one. But, when I read the ‘I had to have it’ challenge on Medium, I knew this would be my story. So I’m sticking to it.

It was 2010 and we had owned two minivans back-to-back. Almost 10 years of driving in an oversized toaster had taken its toll. The understanding nods from other toaster-on-wheels owners, the disappointed looks when soccer moms mistakenly thought I was one of them. I was ready for a change.

Then GM introduced what they now call a crossover SUV — not huge, but certainly not a minivan — and I was smitten. The Chevy version of the crossover is called the Traverse, and it was my way out. But was it the responsible thing to do?

Of course not.

There was nothing wrong with our minivan, at least mechanically. It ran well and gave us no trouble (knock on the dash). And we had three kids at home with school and sports and friends, so we needed something big.

But the kids were getting older and college was coming. Times three. Would now be the best time to buy a car? We had paid off the ‘toaster’ as well as our other car, so we didn’t have a monthly payment. Ah, the days without a monthly car payment.

But I was not to be denied. $30,000? That’s not so much. Heck, they won’t even charge us interest and we can pay for it over five years — 60 long months — so it won’t be so bad. Right?

I talked my wife into it. And, to be fair, she was dragging her feet all the way. Smart lady that she is, she gave it her best shot. She’d say things like, “If that’s what you really want” and “If you really think that’s smart.” Of course it wasn’t smart. She knew it wasn’t smart.

But she could see it in my eyes. We may as well start talking about which color we want, ‘cause this thing was happening.

So we did it. The Traverse was just becoming popular, so there were very few discounts to be had. But did I care about getting a deal? No way. This was my car, why haggle a bunch over the price, right?

Wrong. In retrospect, I’m sure the dealer was very happy to see me. “Here are the keys, just sign here and leave your firstborn at the door. Thanks for stopping by.”

And off I drove! The first month was great. New car smell. People other than soccer moms actually making eye contact with me. This will be great!

Then month two came. And the payment book showed up (okay, they really don’t make payment books anymore, but you get that it’s a metaphor for that huge new monthly payment, right?). And I realized I was stopping by the gas station. A lot. Like, they knew my name. My MIDDLE name.

So I did the math. 17 miles to the gallon, that’s what we were averaging. Seventeen. How many more months are we doing this?

So, let’s review. We’ve got a new monthly payment. Another weekly payment over at the gas station. And, to add insult to injury, the thing was just a dog off the line. I mean a D-O-G (for those who may not know, in car talk, that means it had no acceleration. I could have just said that, I guess).

Anyway, the soccer moms in their vans, who had summarily kicked me out of their club, were now routinely blowing me off the line at traffic lights all over town. Their soccer-playing kids laughing it up in the back and pointing at the old guy with the fancy crossover SUV. “Nice car, buddy,” they would yell. “Does your wife have the van?”

Ouch.

How many months are left, 58? Great.

Then the recalls started. First the power steering (which still isn’t quite right), then the air conditioning — in August, of course. Then the seat belts. It’s as if the car gods were trying to tell me something. But was I listening?

How could I? This was my idea. It was the best thing we could have done. Or, maybe not.

So here I stand, four-plus years later with nine monthly payments to go. Still on a first name basis with every gas station attendant in the tri-state area. And I’m longing for my minivan back.

I just had to have that crossover SUV.

Boy, did I learn a lesson with that one.


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