We have a very unique company vehicle at my office. It’s an off-white 2013 Dodge Caravan. It was supposed to have a purplish-colored decal applied to its sides that had a shape reminiscent of a certain type of fruit. The decal didn’t quite turn out that way. While it does indeed look like a piece of fruit, the purple didn’t turn out purple at all. It turned out pink. And I’m not at all happy about it.
All in all, it’s a functional work vehicle. You wouldn’t use it to go out and pick up girls, but it has its uses and it beats putting miles on your own car for work. Here’s the rub. Every time I drive that thing, I can feel people staring at me. The men all think I’m gay and the women are wondering if I have the Mary Kay lip liner they like on board. It’s pink and it’s horrifying. The whole thing is emblazoned with our company name, website, and contact info. I can’t even flip anyone off when they stare.
We’ve affectionately called the feminine work rig the “Vangina.” This after bandying about names like: “The Tampon,” “The Maxi Pad,” and “The Douchemobile.” You can almost feel your balls shrinking a tiny bit every time you take it anywhere. I swear two guys on my crew started to develop man boobs at the end of a trip to Indianapolis.
Driving it even feels soft and feminine. The ride is mushy and top-heavy and about as well-balanced as a bean bag chair. The experience is like having sex with a fat chick while you’re both standing on roller-skates. You’re always scrambling. Struggling for balance. And the top of the vehicle feels about four feet wider than the wheelbase. You swear you’re going to hook a curb at any moment even though you’re hugging the center line of the highway. It’s like someone blew a bunch of air into an AMC Pacer and this is what they ended up with.
The old girl’s starting to stack up some miles now having been in the fleet for about a year now. We wash it and keep it relatively nice looking on the outside but the interior floor is starting to look like the bottom of a parakeet’s cage. It’s beginning to smell bad too. The 3,000 or so farts that have been pressed into the cloth seats are starting to become noticeable. Opening the windows just doesn’t help anymore.
The radio is a constant issue in that thing too. I don’t know who the fuck keeps changing my rock presets to all the hip hop and club music stations but it’s starting to piss me off. And here’s a tip: don’t set the bass and treble on a car stereo when you’re listening to an AM station! Whoever uses the van regularly sets the bass to -6 and turns the treble all the way up. Listening to music of any sort has all the fidelity of a 1970’s era telephone call being played over a 64kb bitrate podcast. Shitty and so high pitched it nearly cut my right eardrum. No one under the age of 90 listens to music that poorly equalized.
Wobbly, mushy, top-heavy, and emasculating. That’s the Vangina.
