Minivan Blues

So I took a trip to McAllen, Texas of all places to work for a week.  I’m always excited when I get an opportunity to travel.  I love getting to go to new places and mingling with the folk there.  Just so happens that the same kind of people you meet where you live are the same kind of people you see wherever you go.  They’re just thrown into a different climate.

As if I don’t already have a bad enough complex about the way I look and have an ever revolving self-esteem, it was sure kind of the lady at Enterprise to not hook me up with the intermediate car I reserved.  Instead I get to cruise around in a super luxurious brand new dusty minivan.


I guess it’s a good opportunity to catch the feelings of what a soccer dad feels like in case I ever decide to have any kids.  This could just be another opportunity to remind me NOT to have any.  Although, I thought I looked like the husband and father who’s taking a break from the wife and kids when I roll up to Hooters for dinner.

Not that I’m much of a ladies man any way or even have a shred of game in my flirtation playbook, but giving a smile and nod to two good looking girls passing by me in the parking lot and then looking back as they watch me access a dodge minivan doesn’t really give me much of a confidence boost.

I feel like the biggest goob riding solo in a giant caravan of emptiness when I’m cruising the streets of McAllen.  A minivan doesn’t give off the impression that I’m here to party.  It gives off the impression that I’m here to drink my sorrows of adulting away.  Those tears sure do add a little flavor to my Shock Top 22 ounce.

Even if I got lucky and invited a girl out to dinner one night while I’m here, I’d still have in the back of mind that eventually she’s going to find out I’m driving a minivan and I’ll spend most of the night trying to convince her that I don’t have kids and I’m not married and looking to have an affair.  It just makes the sell that much harder.

I’m very much half tempted to drive back to the airport and see if they have a different vehicle for me to drive.  But…I’m only here for a week and, as I’m reminded by past experiences, I wouldn’t even make an attempt to pick anyone up any way.

You know, it actually reminds me of when I was kid and getting drive my mom’s minivan for the first few years of my road training.  Except this minivan didn’t have wiper fluid that shot out to the side that you could spray your friends with when they come to your car door.  This minivan actually starts up when you turn the key instead of having to turn the key 20 times before it finally cuts on.

I don’t know why that thing took forever to start.  I remember my dad looking under the van one day and asked me “why is the bottom crushed?”  I had no clue.  I wasn’t jumping railroad tracks in Taylors with my friends.  That must have been my mom.  She always and still does drive crazy.  My dad just never believed me but anything is possible when you lie!

Anyway, I guess I’ll stick with my minivan for the time I have it.  I’ve been in more embarrassing situations than this and I’m stronger for it!  Cheers to the soccer dad life!