The Weight of Practicality

It was a bit of a cliche really.  We climbed out of our Camry and assembled all of our gear for the simple task of strolling around the Toyota new car lot.  Most of the gear - the stroller and huge diaper bag - was on account of Elliot.  Once everything was assembled and properly stowed, the four of us set out to determine which model would eventually replace our domestic and, thus, poorly designed Chrysler 300.  We started out looking at the smaller Rav4.  Then we looked at the larger and more expensive Highlander.  Very nice.  Next we perused briefly the Tacoma pick-ups.  No.  Then, we happened upon something unexpected.  I saw a model to which I had never given any attention.  Yet, today, it caught my eye.

It's called the Toyota Sienna.  And it is a mini van.

For those of you who know me, I expect at least a few well-crafted quips about the idea of me owning a mini van.  Still, I forced myself to set aside my ego and give the Sienna a fair shake.  I opened the door and sat in its comfortable, roomy interior.  It was equipped with the standard stuff you would expect a soccer mom mini van to have: automatic transmission, power locks, windows, mirrors, seats, dual controlled air conditioning, power side doors... you know... mini van stuff.  I started the engine and eased it onto the I-35 feeder road.  The ride was quiet and smooth.  Hardly any road noise at all.  A small green light on the instrument panel read ECO.  "What does this mean?"  I asked the salesman, pointing at the light.

     "That means your fuel consumption is within an economical range,"  He explained.  I also noticed the console between the front two seats could be removed and replaced with a cooler.  I thought of vacations we took as kids.  We had coolers packed with Capri Suns and fruit.  The entire vehicle is designed for the sensible, practical, often vacationing, family.

The entire experience sparked childhood memories.  I pondered what my dad must have felt when he bought the vans he and my mom owned.  You see, my dad is a performance car lover from way back.  He's been launched down quarter-mile tracks in rumbling hot rods, and he's tasted the craftsmanship of his turbocharged Porsche.  And yet, when the time came for him to succumb to the weight of sensibility, he purchased the family multiple luxury vans and station wagons throughout my childhood years.  When I was in elementary school, it never occurred to me how eager he must have been to drive something for himself.  Yet, I don't recall him ever complaining about driving the vans.  He just drove them.

When I pulled the Sienna back into the Toyota lot.  I couldn't find anything critical to say about it.  Quite simply, it was more comfortable than anything we've owned.  It was quieter.  It was smoother.  And with the rear seats removed, there was enough room to fit a full-size refrigerator and a ten-speed bicycle.  Unlike the Chrysler, the build quality was good, as well.  This as evidenced by my trusty door-closing test.  Everything just made way too much sense.

We climbed back into our Camry and drove away, pretty sure that we would be mini van owners before long.

I suppose there are worse things.