Each night Dana and I leave our office in Newtown and steer my minivan to the ramp for 95 where we will spend the next hour or so in traffic before reaching the parking garage at HUP. When you live in the suburbs you find traffic in the city quite amazing and you believe that it won’t be as congested when you try it again the next day. After making this particular journey just about every day for 4 months, Dana and I have gotten passed those asinine thoughts. We have realized that there is no good time of day that will allow you to avoid traffic into or out of the city, but we have learned that the type of vehicle you drive has a huge effect on how you are treated once you are a member of that traffic jam. In our four months of commuting we have taken several different vehicles and I know it sounds insane but I strongly believe the validity of this statement, “THERE IS NO RESPECT FOR THE MINIVAN.”
In the first few months of my mom’s illness, Dana and I rode to HUP each day in my husband’s vehicle, a 2006 Pontiac Torrent. The Torrent is your basic small model SUV, nothing special, and when placed in the congested city traffic it is pretty much unnoticed. We just chugged along with the rest of the vehicles and never received a second glance. Dana drives a 2008 GMC Sierra, which is a big and beautiful pickup truck. You step off the running board and hoist yourself into the seat of this truck and spend much of the trip worrying about how in the hell you are going to get back down once you reach your destination. When you are stuck in the congestion of city traffic in this monster people notice and avoid you. Smaller vehicles tend to cut off the guy behind you rather than dare to edge themselves in front of you and when you attempt to merge spaces between cars just magically open like Moses parting the sea. When other drivers look back at you it is not to flip you off or curse at you, but rather to confirm the fact that they just saw two women in the cab of what is considered by society to be a man’s vehicle. I must admit that you do feel quite superior peering down into the cars of you fellow traffic jam patrons, but spending 2 hours crawling along with traffic feels much worse when you realize it costs you $80 to fill your tank and you only get about 17 miles to a gallon!
The Toyota Sienna I purchased last year has become the transport of choice when heading to HUP. The minivan can hold up to eight people which is great when we all want to go to the hospital but are too broke for gas and parking. It gets great gas mileage, rides smooth and even has DVD players built into the headrests of the front seats. The only drawback to our luxury mode of transportation is that a minivan just doesn’t have it in the way of intimidation. Much of our traffic jam time is spent being honked at, cut off, flipped off and for some reason we are the target of choice for the homeless panhandler who hangs out on the corner of Chestnut in a pair of brand new Columbia boots. Because I truly love my minivan I was reluctant to admit this, but after the ride into HUP this evening I am forced to face the fact that the minivan is most definitely the Rodney Dangerfield of vehicles, no respect.
Tonight’s traffic jam landed Dana and I behind a school bus full of rowdy middle school boys. They spent part of the time taking their shirts off and hanging them out the bus window or running up and down the aisle and jumping from seat to seat with no concern for the occupant. Of course, the realization that the minivan behind them contained two women definitely raised the amusement level and before Dana and I knew what they were up to the first of many skinny butts was plastered to the bus window. From the scene we saw Dana and I imagined the laughter on that bus was extremely loud and totally obnoxious. As Dana and I made a very good show of ignoring the scene we couldn’t help but notice a rather large, heavyset boy come up to the window. Thankfully, as he assumed the “shoot the moon” position traffic began moving once again. The bus driver pushed the gas, the bus lurched forward and our hefty, little moonbeam landed on his backside holding onto his pants. The laughter was once again extremely loud and totally obnoxious, but this time it came from Dana and I in the minivan. We laughed hysterically for the next 10 minutes and left an opening between ourselves and the bus, but for the first time in minivan history, not a soul cut us off! Traffic continued to crawl and the busload of prepubescent boys continued to stick their buns to the bus window until we passed a cop on the shoulder writing a traffic citation. Suddenly, we were faced with a well-behaved group of boys smiling and waving at us.
In the first few months of my mom’s illness, Dana and I rode to HUP each day in my husband’s vehicle, a 2006 Pontiac Torrent. The Torrent is your basic small model SUV, nothing special, and when placed in the congested city traffic it is pretty much unnoticed. We just chugged along with the rest of the vehicles and never received a second glance. Dana drives a 2008 GMC Sierra, which is a big and beautiful pickup truck. You step off the running board and hoist yourself into the seat of this truck and spend much of the trip worrying about how in the hell you are going to get back down once you reach your destination. When you are stuck in the congestion of city traffic in this monster people notice and avoid you. Smaller vehicles tend to cut off the guy behind you rather than dare to edge themselves in front of you and when you attempt to merge spaces between cars just magically open like Moses parting the sea. When other drivers look back at you it is not to flip you off or curse at you, but rather to confirm the fact that they just saw two women in the cab of what is considered by society to be a man’s vehicle. I must admit that you do feel quite superior peering down into the cars of you fellow traffic jam patrons, but spending 2 hours crawling along with traffic feels much worse when you realize it costs you $80 to fill your tank and you only get about 17 miles to a gallon!
The Toyota Sienna I purchased last year has become the transport of choice when heading to HUP. The minivan can hold up to eight people which is great when we all want to go to the hospital but are too broke for gas and parking. It gets great gas mileage, rides smooth and even has DVD players built into the headrests of the front seats. The only drawback to our luxury mode of transportation is that a minivan just doesn’t have it in the way of intimidation. Much of our traffic jam time is spent being honked at, cut off, flipped off and for some reason we are the target of choice for the homeless panhandler who hangs out on the corner of Chestnut in a pair of brand new Columbia boots. Because I truly love my minivan I was reluctant to admit this, but after the ride into HUP this evening I am forced to face the fact that the minivan is most definitely the Rodney Dangerfield of vehicles, no respect.
Tonight’s traffic jam landed Dana and I behind a school bus full of rowdy middle school boys. They spent part of the time taking their shirts off and hanging them out the bus window or running up and down the aisle and jumping from seat to seat with no concern for the occupant. Of course, the realization that the minivan behind them contained two women definitely raised the amusement level and before Dana and I knew what they were up to the first of many skinny butts was plastered to the bus window. From the scene we saw Dana and I imagined the laughter on that bus was extremely loud and totally obnoxious. As Dana and I made a very good show of ignoring the scene we couldn’t help but notice a rather large, heavyset boy come up to the window. Thankfully, as he assumed the “shoot the moon” position traffic began moving once again. The bus driver pushed the gas, the bus lurched forward and our hefty, little moonbeam landed on his backside holding onto his pants. The laughter was once again extremely loud and totally obnoxious, but this time it came from Dana and I in the minivan. We laughed hysterically for the next 10 minutes and left an opening between ourselves and the bus, but for the first time in minivan history, not a soul cut us off! Traffic continued to crawl and the busload of prepubescent boys continued to stick their buns to the bus window until we passed a cop on the shoulder writing a traffic citation. Suddenly, we were faced with a well-behaved group of boys smiling and waving at us.
We changed lanes after passing the police officer and as we proceeded off the ramp that was our exit, I thought about how my son would most likely not be riding the bus to kindergarten come September!
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