SpringfieldNewsSun.com

I think my van has a girlfriend.

It hasn't said anything specifically yet, but a good owner knows these things. The relationship of a vehicle and owner is like that of a mother and her child. As the parent-child relationship changes through maturity, so does the bond between automobile and driver.

So, I am nervous about confronting the evidence that my van is in a relationship with another vehicle.

My van was delivered into this world in 1996. Since the longevity of the average vehicle is eight years, my 13-year old van is actually a senior citizen. I would have hoped it could have kept a better lock on things, but some never learn to use the brain – even electronic ones.

I've owned this vehicle for three years. About six months after I got my van, one similar in color and make appeared down the street in front of the house of one of Son's classmates. It belongs to that boy's mother. I have teased her about her good taste in wheels.

And, perhaps not coincidentally, those two vans were the start of a minivan population explosion on our street.

My mother used to joke about hangers multiplying within the confines of the dark closets. For years, I have suspected the same of the plastic bags brought home with store purchases. Now, it appears the same is true of minivans.

About nine months ago, a third van appeared at a nearby curb. It would be difficult for either my van or my friends' to deny the family resemblance with the new arrival. Proximity makes my neighbor's vehicle the mother. The new one parks very few houses from where hers is curbed. Obviously the spark plug wires haven't been cut or it isn't weaned yet.

Our van parks around the front yard trying to stay in the shade of the maple tree. Not too long after the our '96 became semi-retired, a fourth van started parking just around the corner. Previously, I wondered if the first new van arrival might have originated from some free wheeling traveler off Main Street. All kinds of chassis file through on Route 68. The lure of a slug of oil by dimmed parking lights might have been overwhelming to a parched vehicle passing through town after a long drive.

The fourth van, however, was sitting too close to home to ignore.

I have talked to the first neighbor. We both laugh nervously. Neither of us wanted to broach the subject that had crossed our minds. Maybe if we had street lights this never would have happened.

The fourth vehicle disappeared after a few days. It must have just been visiting.

And, I was preparing papers to formalize a merger with the neighbor. We could have gone into business together. Even if there's not a market for the minivans, we could have parted them out.