I’m about to blow your mind like it’s a dirty 8-bit Nintendo cartridge.
Check out the video below.
Yeah, that’s a 1,000+ horsepower MINIVAN. Cool, huh? Exactly what any self-respecting modern man needs for trips between school, work, and that 30-day Yoga class your wife found on Groupon and forced you into gently suggested you try.
It screams louder than a toddler that missed dessert. It sits lower than your sagging belly button (seriously, your old lady might be on to something).
This Bisimoto-built Honda Odyssey is the perfect family hauler, right?
Wrong. It’s a minivan. And it sucks.
Even a tarted-up overweight eyesore is still an overweight eyesore; no matter how drunk you were that one night back in college. Thinking any different is more of a stretch than a downward dog pose.
I’ve had an inexplicable predilection for vehicles since elementary school. Every weekend on the way to visit my grandparents, I’d spend my time drawing modified cars and trucks or flipping through magazines.
At the time my auto-related fantasies existed only in my imagination. The “fun” option box had gone unchecked on my mother’s Mercury…hold on a sec…Villager.
I had to Google the model, because I’ve blocked all memory of it.
I DO remember its two-tone paint. The top 3/4’s were some champagne-tinged shade of “Blah.” The bottom was a dark blurple. The interior was…also a color, presumably.
It offered safety and space in spades.
Along with the curb appeal of a knocked-over trash can.
And performance that registered two notches under a bath tub full of Jell-O.
Years have passed since then, and I’ve since learned to get around on my own. Yet I still encounter these plodding road cows on a regular basis. Needless to say, time has further solidified my contempt.
Simply put: I have no desire to ever pilot one of these bulbous, utilitarian-as-they-are-ugly, 3:00 PM-on-a-Sunday-HOV-lane-clogging land yachts.
But, like my pony-tailed yoga instructor loves to remind me – it’s important to keep an open mind. There’s a chance my ire is misguided.
Maybe I let a bad experience from my youth cloud my judgment. Maybe minivans have changed for the better at some point in the last 20-odd years. Maybe after two kids and a wife in love with weekly home upgrades, I’ve just never seen the need for one until now. Maybe its time for my inner enthusiast to pack it in and head up to that big drag-racing track in the sky.
With apologies to Yogi Barry: Nama-stay outta my garage.
A minivan doesn’t make me look forward to leaving the house. I can’t perform my best Senna-impression in a Sienna. I can’t go on a midnight head-clearing drive up the coast in a minivan.
Or can I?
So, I put it to you dear reader. Can you convince me to buy a minivan?
Can a minivan provide comfort for a four-person nuclear family, AND a little yippy dog? Most likely. Can a minivan make highway passing a breeze – or at least generate a pleasant enough racket to trick me into believing I’m accelerating? Perhaps.
Can a minivan offer some cool engineering tech – like a DCT gearbox or variable valve timing? Can a minivan inspire confidence when tackling an on-ramp at anything over 15 MPH? Can a minivan look cool peeling out of my parent’s driveway after pawning off the kids for a weekend? I doubt it.
I encourage any pro-minivan fanboys to tell me to shove it. Don’t worry, I can take it – I’ve been practicing my downward dog all week.
Disclaimer: I know the “new” thing is this CUV/Crossover/don’t-call-it-a-station wagon craze. But my sentiment is the same: they’re all yawn-inducing, mass-produced bologna.
Unless we’re talking about an X6 M. Give me one of those and I’ll gladly eat my words while lapping the Nurburgring in eight minutes.
Or at least make it to Yoga class on time.