The Minivan.

Growing up it was just the three of us, which made it THAT MUCH HARDER to understand why my Dad drove a minivan. It was a white Chrysler with fake wood paneled sides. It didn't have automatic ANYTHING and I swear it took the strength of a gorilla to open and close the doors. You also actually had to ROLL DOWN THE WINDOWS. If my kids had to live back then they would have died.

I HATED that minivan.

My Mom on the other hand always drove something more sporty, and of course, as I got my permit and then my license, her car was off limits.

But you know what was always free to borrow? The Goddamn minivan. So if I wanted to go anywhere, it was in that car.

I will NEVER forget one day when my Dad picked me up from school. He got out of the minivan, and went and sat in the passengers seat. My eyes nearly fell out of my head, he wanted me to drive the beast home in NYC traffic?! I can still recall that white knuckle ride as dozens of other drivers flipped me the bird and proceeded to comment on my driving skills.

The only benefit from that minivan was I could pack a lot of people into it, I almost felt like a school bus driver.

I remember upon having my THIRD child I would most likely have to make the transition from my sporty Honda Pilot to an Odyssey.

I remember feeling so disappointed. I remember feeling like I wanted to borrow my Mom's car but I was permanently stuck with my Dad's.

Well Dad, I get it now.

I get it so much that last year, I proudly dressed it up as a reindeer.