The Roanoker - November/December 2020 - 12

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CHRISTY RIPPEL is an award-winning freelance writer, covering lifestyle, design,
health and parenting. A VT graduate, she likes to bike and walk local trails. When
she and husband Chris aren't watching the Hokies, they watch their four kids
compete in sports. Christy is a Maryland native and lives in Roanoke County.

A Tribute to the Humble Minivan
IN 1983, THE FIRST MINIVAN rolled off the production
line, and moms everywhere went crazy, snapping those things up
like Cabbage Patch dolls at Christmas. Coincidentally, I had also
just started elementary school. I went to Catholic school, so there
were no buses, just frazzled moms in new Dodge Caravans, slurping
coffee while carting two rows of uniform-clad hooligans to the dropoff circle. Our neighbors had a sweet powder blue number, with
matching vinyl interior that stuck to the backs of my legs. You'd
have to peel yourself off when you arrived at school. Good luck if
you were trying to beat the bell, the one door and all.
As much as I wanted my family to blend in with those in the sea
of Caravans and Plymouth Voyagers in the school parking lot, my
mom decided to be different and get a Ford Aerostar, which looked
like it could have blasted off to the moon if turned 90 degrees. For
long trips, my dad would take out the middle seats and my sister
and I would spread out our Care Bear sleeping bags while he drove,
pretending to camp ('80s parenting safety alert!).
I swore I'd never own one, which is the kind of thing you can
swear to when you're childless. So smug! I had planned to be cooler,
but having four kids necessitates an ease and a practicality that could
only be found in the humble van. For kids one and two I drove
a small SUV, but try fitting three car seats in one row-mission
impossible. My engineer-trained husband tried it, and emerged
sweaty and frustrated. "It can't be done," he said. So off we went to
the Honda dealership, and drove off with our first minivan.
My friend names her minivans-Blue Thunder was first, now

NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2020

they're on White Lightning. Mine haven't had names, but they've
carted home new babies, fit impossible car seats, hauled scooters and
bikes and friends, run countless carpools of sweaty sports teams and
hosted tailgate parties. It's a junky archive, stuffed full of the detritus
of child rearing. It is as practical as family life forces you to become.
It is a vehicle for grown-ups.
Minivan sales peaked in 2000, when automakers sold nearly 1.4
million minivans to American families. The SUV has since taken over
as the reigning family car, and about a dozen minivans have been
discontinued in the last twenty years or so, including the Aerostar of
my childhood. The final Ford model rolled off the St. Louis assembly
line in 1997, the year after I finished high school. Spotting one on
the road now is as rare as my kids sleeping in on a Saturday-almost
never, and cause for marvel.
While scores of young families are rejecting them, minivans
remind me of being young, and one day will remind me of my own
kids being young. When I finally pull my current Odyssey into the
dealership on her last rusty exhale, it will mean that our family has
moved on to a new phase, when kids have exited the house and car
seats and sports gear sit dusty in the garage. A phase that passes,
even when in the thick of it, it seems forever.
So I toast that powder blue Dodge with the sticky seats, the
Aerostar that doubled as a camper, and the two Odysseys of my
own childrens' youths. Thanks for being so uncool, and thanks for
getting me there.
-CHRISTY RIPPEL

TheRoanoker.com

CHRISTY RIPPEL

She isn't cool, but she gets it done.

http://www.TheRoanoker.com

The Roanoker - November/December 2020

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