cars · chicks · humor · minivan · relationships · sex

My minivan is a chick magnet

You can keep your candy-apple, red Mustang and your fancy foreign cars. Ferrari’s go fast, but it’s called a Testarossa. We all know you’re compensating for your own hormonal deficiency. I wouldn’t trade titles with your used-to-be-a-Subaru-now-it’s-a-formula- one-but-it’s-still-a-Subaru with all its Redneck go-fasters for nothing. I got my minivan.

Chicks dig my minivan. You know? Chicks. Women between 36 and 44. MILFs Bubba, MILFs. They see me in my sleek, black stretch and think, “My God! That could hold 5 kids and their soccer gear.” They don’t even know it has a towing package. If they did, they’d leap from the curb into my auto-sliding door.

When I drive down the boulevard in my glossy, midnight cruiser, you can hear their biological clocks ticking. When I pull up to the Pizza Hut and order 5 large pizzas to go, sweat breaks out on their perfectly-arched eyebrows. All the ladies want to get with this. They knows I gots the 6-cylinders of joy.

This ain’t your daddy’s station wagon. His wagon was the minivan of his day. It’s the reason your mom gave him the time of day, a kiss and hand-job at the lake.

It ain’t a crappy tall wagon neither. No women is getting jiggy with your emo-ass-looking-surfer-wannabe-mamma’s- basement-living-refrigerator-box-driving -plastic-seat-havin’ sorry ass. You need a minivan, son.

The ladies want my two hundred and seventy horses of desire. I can see it in their eyes. I read it in their body language. I can tell by the crease in their jeans. I hear them ovulate as I roll by. Eggs popping like scramblers sizzling on a Sunday morning. I don’t need cologne. I have my minivan.

Get you one or come get you some…minivan. Slide up in my leather captain’s chair and swivel an arm rest down. “May I take your drink, m’lady?” I got cup holders. Big cup holders. Big enough for those big cups at the drive thru. Just slide on down and fasten that seat belt. That? It’s a tri-stable-anchor-point for a child’s car seat. Yeah, I got two of those. “Flip down that DVD screen and put on Pretty Woman would ya baby?”

Oh, yeah. I’m pulling this minivan over right now.


25 thoughts on “My minivan is a chick magnet

  1. Really good stuff! In a similar vein, my first car was a 1967 Chrysler New Yorker limo, with rear individual reading lamps and footstools in the back, along with drop-down tables built into the back of the front seat. It was so big, it had its own zip code. It didn’t bring the chicks running, but my friends liked to hold meetings in it.

  2. I was never big on trucks. In fact, I believe that the term SUV was most likely invented by a Yankee who was ashamed to say he had a truck because everyone in the South has one, and he didn’t want to be classified as a redneck, so he created the term SUV, which stands for Supremely Useless Vehicle.

  3. Wait a minute here, I bought a pick up because I thought that was what pick up meant, (picking up chicks). Now I know why the only ones that approached were hookers. Dang!, Barefoot you gotta let me know ahead of time brother. Now what am I gonna do with this pick up? Maybe I can tow my new mini van with it.

  4. That was a fantastic article! I had the pleasure of sporting a minivan throughout my college career…I have come to the exact same determination – My children will also have a minivan throughout school. What better bus for the parties, you have plenty of back seats, and at age 20, you can carry all of your earthly possessions from apartment to apartment. Sure at first glance you get a raised eyebrow, but in times of need you are a friend indeed.

  5. This makes me proud to own a mini van… “If they did, they’d leap from the curb into my auto-sliding door.” HAHAHAHA thats just great.

  6. As a new owner of a minivan, I cannot agree with you more. Have you heard the song “It’s hard to look cool in a minivan” by Go Fish? I beg to differ. It’s hard not to look cool in a minivan.

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