When my wife and I first started talking about having children, there was one thing I swore I’d never do: purchase a minivan. At the time, my wife agreed with me. But lately, she’s had a change of heart.

We’ll be driving down the road and my daughter will spill something on herself. “Do you know how much easier life would be with a minivan? I could just walk back there if one of the kids needed something.” Or I’ll hear something like this: “What if we’re driving on the Interstate and one of them starts choking? What would we do?” Pull over, of course. Duh! SUVs have brakes, you know.

She’s not the only one who is pushing for us to get a minivan. My daughter’s preschool teachers have been passively requesting we buy one as well. They haven’t resorted to putting brochures in her backpack or anything, but when they bring my daughter to the car, they’ll say things like, “It’s time to climb that big mountain again!” or “Can you make it? It sure is high!” Bite me.

Punk Chag has told me time and time again, “Dude, if you let them talk you into buying a minivan, it’s over between us. You might as well drive a stake through my heart. There’s no way I can be seen in one of those.” I agree.

Look, I don’t ask for much. Please don’t make me get a minivan. Please don’t let them kill Punk Chag!

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