if this van’s a rockin’…


…it’s probably just one of the kids jumping around in the back.

Today I did something I said I’d never do.  I have officially turned in my coolness card* and moved toward my inevitable soccer mom status.  I bought a car.  Well, actually it’s a smallish van.  I has room for lots of passengers and cargo and groceries.  Finally, after two and a half years of squeezing the twins and all their gear into my tiny Corolla, I’ve given in to the idea of space and convenience and bought a minivan.  It has tinted windows and a dvd player and all the doors open at the push of a button.  And it’s actually back at the dealership right now because I’m pretty sure it’s possessed by a demon.  Or a mischievous fairy/sprite.

I drove it off the lot and went directly to work.  After I’d been inside for a half hour or so, someone came up to me and said my car alarm was going off.  What?  I have a car alarm?  Okay.  And I went out back to check it out.

Sure enough, there was a horrible and repetitive horn honking and I had no idea what caused it.  Did I hit the panic button accidentally?  I tried to turn it off and nothing happened.  So I started hitting random buttons on the remote and eventually it stopped.  And started up again about 15 seconds later.

I finally figured out that if I leave all the doors unlocked, the alarm would be deactivated.  Awesome.  Glad there’s nothing of value in the car yet, because, you know, I’d just bought it that same morning.

A few hours pass and someone else comes up to me to tell me they my headlights are on.  So I go outside to check and sure enough, the daytime running lights are on.  And they won’t turn off no matter what I do.  Eventually, someone figured out how to turn them off and a few seconds later, the car alarm started going off again.  And nothing could get it to stop.  So I took it back to the dealership for repair and got a really nice loaner sedan with a sunroof** and a touch-screen stereo system.

I can’t help but think car troubles on the day I buy a car is a bad omen.  Maybe I’m really not supposed to drive a minivan.  I even have trouble saying ‘minivan’ out loud – I sort of choke on the word as it comes out.  It feels unnatural.  When I first got to work yesterday, I mentioned it to one person and asked he keep it a secret so I no one would make fun of me.   It was like the van (or the sprite, as I’m leaning more toward sprite than demon) was just trying to out me to my co-workers.  Yes, this girl woman mom has now given up her youth completely and is now driving the stereotypical mom-mobile.  And now everyone knows it because the stupid van was so damn loud about it!

*Yeah, yeah, I realize I was never really that cool.  Whatever.

**Possessed Minivan also has a sunroof, so if I avoid looking in the rearview mirror at the cavernous space behind me, I can pretend I’m driving something smaller and less awful.


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