THE DIRGE BEGINS

I hesitate to even write about this matter, because I fear that it will confirm the reality of something very sad to come: I think our minivan will die soon.  Our minivan has almost 180,000mi on it.  It was given to us by my parents (when it only had about 80,000).  At the time, our 2nd child was only 6mo old, and a minivan seemed unnecessarily suburban, but we weren't going to balk at a free vehicle.  My husband affectionately named it "Barney," because it's big and purple and a little goofy (burgandy, but men are color-blind).  I am now officially to the point, that I can not imagine my life without a minivan, nor do I want to.  One of my theories is that EVERYONE had minivans in the mid-90's, so I didn't like them, but now that everyone has moved on to SUV's, I love, love, love having a minivan.---or more likely, it's just darn functional with 4 kids.

So here's the deal.  It had one rebuilt transmission, while still owned by my parents ('97).  It had another rebuilt transmission in Feb 2000, so when the transmission fritzed in Dec 2000, 10mo later, we (and when I say," we," I mean with $ borrowed from my parents or Papa Bear's parents--whoever didn't help us "rebuild") had them put in a brand, spankin new one, from the dealership.  It had a 3 year warranty.  And I chuckle now, thinking of us saying, "There's no way we'll still be driving this beast in 3 yrs."  Well, guess what?  We're still driving it.   And let me just say, that I'd keep driving it for 5 more, if it would keep going.  Aside from the transmission history, it has been ridiculously  reliable.  Everytime I have an oil change or the A.C. serviced, my mechanic says,  "It's gettin about time for y'all to get a new truck."  Each time, I explain that we'd love to, but a car payment is not happening for us right now.  And he forgets, and says the same thing, the next time I come  in.  I actually don't mind his fatherly concern.

So today, I ran Bananna to ballet, ran the other kids to Burger King, ran back to ballet, ran by the house for Bananna to change, and was on my was to a homeschool meeting (based on an ill-conceived notion that SURE I could take all 4 kids to tour our new facility for the group--but that's another blog for another day).  Anyway, the van was making a noise.  You know, the kind of noise that makes you turn down the radio and lean in, to get a good listen.  Oh no, that familiar, revving too high sound, like an airplane, firing it's jets, about to take off--way too high-pitched --is what I heard.  Now, by some miracle, we made it home fine.  It didn't even make the noise, but what I've always known in my head, is becoming a reality.  That van can't last forever.  Yes, I checked the date on the 3yr warranty; it's been 4 and a half years.   And so, I'm saddened.  Not only because I have no freaking idea how we are going to replace it, when we don't have enough money to pay the bills we have (which is sad enough, trust me), but also, because I find myself strangely sentimental about the vehicle that has been our "family vehicle," since our wiggling brood was only a tribe of two. 

O.K. I know what you were thinking:  This creepy lady cares more about her minivan, than she does her cat.  Oh, admit it.  You were too.