Vroom vroom
What a week. Er, weeks. Sorry about that, been busy with the work and the photography; summer seems to have reached a fever pitch already for this household. Big changes are afoot-- namely, the ritual of trading the smallest family car for the largest one the family (god willing) will ever own: the mini-van.
Ah, mini-vans... refuge of soccer moms and despondent dads everywhere. I know, I know-- all of you out there who don't own one are saying "Bah, that will NEVER be me." Well, I'm here to tell you the mini-van bell must toll for all of us at some time or another. They're a lot nicer now than they used to be, and with the third kiddo on the way, it was time. So check this out: our new ride has some awesome features for dads to really fall in love with. (At this time, any women reading this should force their husbands to join them). First and foremost, the doors. This thing has power doors on both sides, and a power trunk. That means that even while carrying an ungodly amount of kid-related crap, with the mere push of a button this thing springs open faster than Lindsay Lohan's knobby knees. And oh my god, the STORAGE in this thing; all the seats fold flat, so you can actually put building materials and whatnot in there if the need arises. More importantly, I estimate that you could fit at LEAST 4 rowdy football buddies and 3 coolers in here with NO PROBLEM.
Next, the driver's seat. Power movement, tilt, and lumbar. Plus fingertip controls for the all important radio manning, and a fold down "lil' bastard checker" mirror all in easy reach. You've even got your own climate control, and a special little nook complete with plastic courtesy bags to place your nuts in when you're spotted driving this thing.
Most importantly, it has not one but TWO AC power outlets in it. Which means not only can I transport the band to the gig, I can actually plug my amp in and rock while rolling. I anticipate being told I'm not allowed to play and drive, but that just means I get to crawl in back and stretch out while I play my metal endlessly. AND of course it means I have an easy way to impress the hell out of all the soccer moms when I take the kids to practice in a few years. So all you dads out there be warned-- when I roll up in Battlestar Galactica and rock your wives faces (among other, more undergarmety things) off, don't say I didn't warn ya.
Ah, mini-vans... refuge of soccer moms and despondent dads everywhere. I know, I know-- all of you out there who don't own one are saying "Bah, that will NEVER be me." Well, I'm here to tell you the mini-van bell must toll for all of us at some time or another. They're a lot nicer now than they used to be, and with the third kiddo on the way, it was time. So check this out: our new ride has some awesome features for dads to really fall in love with. (At this time, any women reading this should force their husbands to join them). First and foremost, the doors. This thing has power doors on both sides, and a power trunk. That means that even while carrying an ungodly amount of kid-related crap, with the mere push of a button this thing springs open faster than Lindsay Lohan's knobby knees. And oh my god, the STORAGE in this thing; all the seats fold flat, so you can actually put building materials and whatnot in there if the need arises. More importantly, I estimate that you could fit at LEAST 4 rowdy football buddies and 3 coolers in here with NO PROBLEM.
Next, the driver's seat. Power movement, tilt, and lumbar. Plus fingertip controls for the all important radio manning, and a fold down "lil' bastard checker" mirror all in easy reach. You've even got your own climate control, and a special little nook complete with plastic courtesy bags to place your nuts in when you're spotted driving this thing.
Most importantly, it has not one but TWO AC power outlets in it. Which means not only can I transport the band to the gig, I can actually plug my amp in and rock while rolling. I anticipate being told I'm not allowed to play and drive, but that just means I get to crawl in back and stretch out while I play my metal endlessly. AND of course it means I have an easy way to impress the hell out of all the soccer moms when I take the kids to practice in a few years. So all you dads out there be warned-- when I roll up in Battlestar Galactica and rock your wives faces (among other, more undergarmety things) off, don't say I didn't warn ya.
posted by Clueless Dad | 2:31 PM
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