The Struggle

I used to think like Peyton up there, but I love my minivan.  Really, I do.  Love it unconditionally even.  With that unconditional love comes an acceptance of its shortcomings.  I know I know, how in the world can a minivan, a Dodge Caravan at that have shortcomings?  Chairs that fold into the floor when you need to haul stuff, rows of seats that allow you to  seat your beloved children as far away as possible, luggage racks, and a rear wiper!  It’s like a living room that moves and stuff.

Even with all of those supercool features that your car doesn’t have, the minivan just can’t shake the stigma of suburban stuffiness.  I used to own a beat up Cadillac Brougham until recently.  However, on it’s worst day, with the right song and a favorable shine from the sun, I was able to forget how raggedy that car was.  No amount of gangsta leaning or gangsta rap (allow me the use of this cheesy term please) will ever blur the fact that you are a family man.  One of these might make help though.

space age pimpin'

space age pimpin'


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