“Oh, I’ll never drive a minivan,” I frequently hear from my peers. “They’re so uncool.” This sentiment has echoed through the Millennial generation for years, yet it lacks logic. To label a minivan as uncool is akin to deeming a decorated soldier, a weightlifter, or a farmer as uncool; while personal preferences vary, describing them as “uncool” is simply inaccurate. Therefore, today, I posit that minivans are the most resilient vehicles on the roads and, for that reason alone, they warrant admiration.
Visit any car dealership and survey the array of vehicle types available—trucks, crossovers, body-on-frame SUVs, sedans, hatchbacks, minivans, wagons, and more. The majority of these non-commercial vehicles will lead pampered lives. Even trucks, equipped with luxurious features like heated leather seats and air suspension, may never fulfill their utilitarian potential by carrying heavy loads or towing trailers. Most of these vehicles will serve as daily commuters, maintaining their plush comfort throughout their existence. However, one vehicle will endure a lifetime of hardship; from the moment it leaves the dealership lot to its eventual placement on junkyard jack stands, it will weather relentless abuse and scorn, never truly appreciated for its substantial sacrifices.
That vehicle is the minivan.
Let’s rewind to day one: a minivan rolls off the assembly line in Windsor or Hanover and lands on a lot in Yadkinville, North Carolina, where a young couple, Meghan and Bill, are in search of a spacious vehicle for their expanding family. “We now have three and four—twins!” the couple informs the salesperson. “Our Cherokee is great, but it can’t accommodate all the car seats. We’re interested in that van over there,” they point out.
The salesperson allows the couple to test drive the van with their energetic kids, who excitedly explore the rear area, swinging the sliding doors open and frolicking around, full of enthusiasm. “Mom! This is awesome! I can even stand up!”
“Okay, Kaiden, that’s nice, but please fasten your seatbelt and sit on your booster seat,” Meghan instructs.
“But mom, it’s just a short—”
“I don’t care, Kaiden! Sit down this instant!” She’s slightly exasperated. Buying a car can be a stressful experience.
Reluctantly, Kaiden complies and engages with his iPad.
An hour later, Meghan and Bill trade in their Jeep Cherokee for the spacious minivan, heading back home in their new family-friendly vehicle. While Meghan appreciates the practicality of the van, Bill’s enthusiasm wanes as he gazes longingly at a brand-new Ford Bronco at a neighboring dealership.
You see, Bill’s childhood memories are intertwined with a 1991 Dodge Caravan, the family’s primary mode of transportation. Consequently, he harbors reservations about the coolness of minivans. If your father—the epitome of uncoolness in many children’s eyes—used a minivan for school drop-offs, then the vehicle itself couldn’t possibly be cool. It’s simple logic.
A Grueling Existence for Minivans
For 12 years, Meghan and Bill chauffeur their children in the minivan, shuttling them to soccer practice, music lessons, scouting events, birthday celebrations, and more. In this capacity, the minivan excels. Meghan and Bill selected this vehicle precisely for its utility in transporting their children, even though Bill views it as uncool and somewhat emasculating. Despite his reservations, he acknowledges that no other vehicle could fulfill this role as effectively. Thus, he reluctantly accepts it.
During this period, the family accumulates 150,000 miles on the minivan. Timmy learns to use a fork for the first time in the second row, resulting in food remnants scattered across the carpet. Kaidynne manages to stow all his baseball equipment in the cargo area, albeit causing damage to the back of the front seats with his sharp cleats. Johnny and Liz, the younger siblings, embrace outdoor activities, prompting their father to load the van with firewood, wet tents, tarps, backpacks, and assorted gear for their adventures in the woods.
Occasionally, especially during road trips, the children squabble in the back, leading to mishaps and spills. As they grow older, the van transitions from being drenched in bodily fluids to being splattered with Coca-Cola, ice cream, and Gatorade.
Nevertheless, the minivan perseveres, dutifully ferrying Meghan and Bill’s precious cargo, along with their friends and equipment for extracurricular activities.
After 12 years, as the children enter their teenage years, the family decides to upgrade to a safer vehicle with enhanced safety features, as the aging minivan no longer meets their requirements.
What fate awaits an aging minivan in need of a new home? Will it retire gracefully like a classic sedan with low mileage? Will it serve as a daily commuter like the trucks and crossover SUVs it once shared the lot with?
No, the minivan—enduring years of spills, stains, and wear and tear from frantic trips to various activities—enters a harsher phase in its life cycle, the final chapter. It transitions into a cargo van.
Post-Family-Hauling Era: The Tough Life Continues for Minivans
An aging minivan’s value diminishes significantly. Families are unlikely to purchase an older minivan for daily use, given safety concerns associated with aging vehicles. As depicted in the image above of my 1994 Chrysler Voyager diesel 5-speed, I acquired this vehicle for $600 precisely due to its lack of demand. It no longer serves as a family vehicle, nor does it hold the appeal of a classic car, as minivans are often deemed too “uncool.” Despite this perception, I vehemently disagree, which explains my acquisition from Germany and my treatment of it as I would any vintage automobile in my collection.
I represent an exception, fully aware that aging minivans face only two probable outcomes: they either end up in a junkyard or find utility as cargo vans for small businesses.
From painters and delivery services to welding and fencing contractors, aging minivans transition into a new role post-family-hauling phase. While they may no longer transport families, their retirement as cargo vans entails strenuous labor, leaving them battered, malodorous, and leaky. Every ounce of utility is extracted from these vehicles that once served as the backbone of family transportation, until they eventually rest in a junkyard, untouched, as individuals rarely bother salvaging parts from minivans for personal repairs.
The Paradox of Minivan Perception
In our comfortable full-size pickup trucks, seldom used for their intended purposes, we mock minivans. We deride their drivers as “unfortunate souls” and proclaim our aversion to piloting these uncool vehicles equipped with sliding doors, reminiscent of our uncool parental chauffeurs. However, our perceptions are misguided. Minivans endure relentless abuse from the moment of purchase until their eventual demise in a junkyard. They withstand scratches and bruises from carefree children, lose favor with families as safety features evolve, and ultimately find purpose in transporting ladders and paint for small renovation businesses, where inexperienced workers disregard the worn-out minivan assigned to them for job site transportation.
Minivans receive no respite. In a society that values hard work, acknowledges fatigue, and sympathizes with injury, we must acknowledge our misconceptions regarding these capacious people-movers. Far from uncool, minivans epitomize resilience and utility.