"Uuuuummmm a blue one?!"

Yesterday we finally purchased a vehicle that fits all seven of my children comfortably. It's about twenty years too late, seeing as how they've nearly all launched out of the nest with spouses and children of their own. It's a cruel irony that by the time you can afford the things you really could use for your ever-growing family, your family has grown itself right out of your home. Maybe that's one of the reasons I wanted a mini-van. Simply because I never had one when I so desperately wanted/needed one. Although I'm not a "car person", I will admit it's a lovely vehicle, and at just two years old, it still has a slight new car scent, all black exterior with black leather interior. That right there should help balance out the un-coolness of a mini-van right?

I really have only ever wanted a car to get me from point A to point B. If someone were to ask me "What kink of car do you have?" I'd be that girl that replies "Uuuhhhh a blue one?" And yet....some of my fondest memories are tied to certain vehicles. Standing on the front passenger seat while my mom drove to town (no need for a seat-belt when you've got mama's arm to slam across your front as she brakes too hard! Riding on the cooler that rests between the two captains seats of the Volkswagon bus while traveling to the grandparents in Colorado. When my back needs to rest, I climb up onto my father's lap and help him steer through the night. The a.m. radio crackling as it fades in and out of service. Daddy quietly pointing out a shooting star or maybe even a planet. All the other kids sprawled out on the bench seats or even on the floor board. The Ford Pinto my parents drove my high school car-pool on the days that my friend Tracy's parents didn't pick us up in their AMC Pacer. (If you know, you know). The two weeks I waited for my now-husband, then boyfriend, to fix his '63 T-Bird so he could pick me up for our first date. "Oh! I see you brought your Grandma's car!" As he opened the passenger door for me, he said something about it being a classic car, and appreciation, value, blah blah blah....I had no idea what he was talking about, I only was wondering if he'd hold my hand with his free hand while he steered with the other.

​The Volkswagon Beetle my first husband and I brought our second baby home in. He had removed the front passenger seat to make room for the bundles of newspapers he delivered for a paper-route that provided us with beans and rice, rice and beans. The baby and I sat in the back seat and all I could think of was how beautiful she was and how blessed I was. The truck that my in-laws sold to us for, I think, $200? An old Ford pick-up, with no A/C (same as the Volkswagon), and with "three-on-a-tree". I had learned how to drive with a stick-shift, so this was just a minor adjustment. I'd double-seat-belt my littles to take them with me to my OB/GYN appointments, lecturing them the whole way as to how we behave while in the Dr.'s office, "quiet and reverent like we're in church!" And they would be.

By the time the fifth baby arrived, we were out of college, gainfully employed, but far from opulent living. We found an old Chevy Conversion van listed in the classified ads. Only one owner that took it on small fishish trips. Low miles, old as the hills, but in solid condition. And maybe three miles to the gallon. On a good day. The price was right, plus it had cool curtains and theater-type strip lighting along the interior roof. It drove like we were riding around in a living room and we loved it. When the sixth and seventh baby came along, we found a couple of extra captains seats at a salvage yard, scooted the bench seat all the way back and bolted the two new-to-us seats in the center. There was a kid for every seat-belt and a seat-belt for every kid! With only a couple of hair-raising, white-knuckle experiences (breaking down in Death Valley, CA, breaking down on Bangerter Highway, having smoke come out of the steering column, to mention just a few, the van served our family well, and I shed actual tears the day we sold it.

Maybe I am a "car-person" after all. I look at the black shiny car parked in it's space in the garage, and wonder what sorts of places it will take us. Maybe someday we can take some of the grandies to Disneyland. Or take it to a beautiful place in the mountains to watch the stars. The same stars that burned bright all those years ago when I sat on my Daddy's lap in that not so snazzy VW Van as it hummed that special Volkswagon hum through the night.

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