…..there are two fates in my time on earth to which I will do my best to avoid. One is to ever find myself in a situation where I need to resort to canabalism for survival….the other….is to own a minivan. Either would mean that I have found myself at the hopeless end of lifes majesty and left with an option of complete sorrow and despair.
Japan’s automotive allure has always been an object of my affection and I say that with a very sincere amount of honesty. From the early 90’s when I was about 10 years old I can distinctly remember mouthing out the dialogue of the Nissan 300z commercials and thinking….why on earth don’t we have one of those?
Over time my appreciation for Japanese automobiles grew and conversely so did my loathing for anything of the minivan class. So much so that I started to involuntarily judge people quite harshly that drove such cars. My distain was built more on the platform of complete bewilderment and disgust for those who had decided that this was ok…..this was not ok.
I could go on, rant, and probably offend those of you who still brag to your friends about automatic sliding doors, mass cargo space and 3 rows of seats that each have integrated televisions that distract your kids long enough for you to whisk through the streets of your fair town in a self imprisoned white flag on wheels….but I won’t. I’ll get to the point.
There is an infectious mind numbing disorder that has begun to spread through the greater Tokyo area and in its wake, are streets full of oversized vans. Not even mini anymore…these monstrosities are large, impractical, unfashionably “not” Tokyo looking machines that are even brazenly marketed as if they were a Toyota Supra that could bag you a supermodel.
I had a 9 year old girl in class the other day that said she loved cars. This was a surprise and so I asked about her favorite car to which she responded immediately…..the Vellfire. A sharp pain shot up the left side of my neck, simultaneously numbing my right leg. Once I propped myself back in my chair and waited for her obnoxious giggle to subside, I swallowed the small amount of vomit that had arisen from my throat….and moved onto consonant blends to help me forget. Teaching Japanese kids “Th” sounds makes everything else seem less difficult to handle.
Vellfire? you ask…enjoy.
I’m finished. I just want it to stop. Epic cars come from Japan….not vans. Viva the 300z…
sorry soccer mom,