Let me tell you how it all began. You came into my life on one warm fall evening in Provo. I anxiously awaited a call from a cute guy named Bryan, waited for him to pick me up for our first date. And the guy of my dreams showed up... in an old blue minivan. "No matter," I thought, "it shows a lot of character to be a single guy and driving an old minivan - right?" And it did.
You trustily hauled him from Logan to Provo for an entire year, while we dated. Then we married. And you drove us to our honeymoon. Nevermind that we had to pull over several times up Little Cottonwood Canyon and give you a breather so we could make it. We loved you, because you were free and we were poor.
Years went by. Children came. They labeled you "big and dirty". You slowed down. Literally. You decided you did not want to go over 35 mph. That was ok - you still served a purpose, driving me to and from the bus stop for many years. Then I quit my job and Bryan took you over. Lovingly guessing when you needed gas (the gas gauge did not work) and taping red tape over your taillights which had long been busted. Listening only to one of the 2 or 3 stations you decided we could listen to. Hoping the seat belt would 'click' - because sometimes it wouldn't. We took you to the Trax station for Bryan to drive the 1 mile to and from work.
Then today Bryan showed up to the trax station, after his 1 1/2 hour commute. You were not there. We don't know where you are, and we are a little sad you were stolen. But we do have a small amount of satisfaction knowing that whoever took you, for whatever reason.... they aren't going anywhere very fast. In fact, I hope they took you on the freeway. I hope they tried to get you to go over 35 mph. And they will have learned that if you go above 40....the van...just....might... threaten to blow up.
2 months ago