When I was a teenager my grandpa bought a new car. This might not sound like a big deal these days, but he was old school and cashed it out after saving for years. His old one would not fetch much money, but it was loved and taken care of for a decade. So when my uncle complained he had to haul all the building materials for his new house in his posh car, my grandpa gave him his beloved 101.

What followed you can imagine. Within a month the car was trashed, had paint spilled on it and looked terrible in every possible way. I know my grandpa was devastated, but he never said a thing and even helped fix it every time it suffered another blow. My cousin, who was my son’s age at the time, loved the beat up. He insisted my uncle drop him off at kindergarten in it and refused to go anywhere in the nice cars they owned. And that was what made my grandpa happy and left us all wondering.

I drive a minivan. I know what you are thinking. Why do I need a seven seater if I only have one child.It is the only vehicle we looked at my dog can fit in; once I removed the back row of seats that is.  But I won’t lie to you, I love it. In fact I always wanted one, even when I was single. I took it for a test drive many years ago. The salesman asked me how many children I had, so I bought a coupe instead. It was too soon I guess.

Speaking of that sports car, my husband has the same one. After our first date he walked me to my car. He told me later he knew i was the one, because he bought that same model a day earlier. My whole marriage is based of my excellent taste in transportation. Another good reason I refrained from buying a minivan earlier.

Little J openly admits he loves the van and hates Daddy’s car. He can see better sitting high by the window. I play all his favorite songs like Fred the fish and Monkeys. I let him jump on drivers seat with muddy boots and switch on hazards. I let him eat and drink in the car.I even let Big M eat the goldfish that Little J losses. Little J helps me wash it. Big M helps keeping it dirty. My van smells like a wet dog, spilled latte and horse manure on a good day.  You could say it represents us.

Which brings me back to my grandpa’s old car. That must be why my cousin loved it, that was why I loved it and that is why it stayed in our family till the day it was scrapped. It was so us.