Chariot of... ah man!

Cars and children don't mix. With four children the best I can hope for out of a car is that it's not an epic battle to get the kids in or out of the van. When I say epic I mean slow motion, blood, vomit, and Carl Orff's O Fortuna playing in the background. So asking that a minivan keep running with six people consistently is too much to ask... seriously way too much to ask.
About eight or nine months ago I had an interview with a hospital in Kentucky. I had never been to the city where it was located, nor had my wife, so about two days before the interview we decided to check out the area to see what it had to offer. With my awesome planning skills I decided we'd go around the kid's nap time so they would sleep in the car. As it turns out my awesome planning skills are not so awesome, nor are they considered "skills".
As the sun reached it's zenith on what was one of the hottest days of the summer last year we shut the doors on our minivan sealing our doom in with us. I have come to the conclusion that Murphy with his hoity-toity laws follows behind me at a distance and throws red flags on my plays. The drive to Kentucky was uneventful, my wife and I speculated on what a new life in a state famous for it's horses and grass would be like while the kids napped or listened to the radio. In short the drive was pleasant. However, if I would have focused a bit more attention to the rear view mirror I would have seen Mr. Murphy smiling.
We checked out the hospital and drove around the city a bit till our curiosity was satisfied and started home. Looking back it was amazing we made it as far as we did. That day was the start of a horrible phenomenon which has plagued our family and especially poor little Anna to this day. Motion sickness.
As we approached the next major city on our route Anna went from quietly sitting in her seat to screaming bloody murder followed by a large quantity of vomit. We stopped, cleaned the mess and proceeded on our way. Not ten minutes later, Anna again let out a scream and vomited all over the car. We stopped, cleaned the mess and proceeded on our way... again.
Murphy decided our day was not over and threw a wrench in our gears. Really, he threw a wrench in our gears. Being on one of the hottest days of the year and a van full of weight the transmission decided we were  jerks and we could do the shifting ourselves. So, completely stop it did, and as we were at it's mercy so did we. After creeping to a suitable location I popped the hood and got my man sayings out, for example: "Yeah, I'll just take a look under the hood" or "Wouldn't you know it I don't have my tools!" and "It's that darn canooter valve." But no matter how I looked at the engine or what I said would prove to be useful. We waited for quite awhile for the transmission to cool and set out with fingers crossed. We made it about five miles and pulled over to a park of soccer fields and I called family to see if they could get my wife and kids home so I could deal with the car.
Murphy still wasn't through with us and decided to throw a severe thunderstorm our way... in the middle of a soccer field... in a broken down van. Feeling a little too exposed was only a small hindrance however as the extreme downpour served as a great way to help cool the transmission. Finally we were able to get back on the road and try again, and with my parents who I had called meeting us about half way from that point as a backup I felt a lot more comfortable.
To close, fathers, buy the sports car you always wanted. You might not be able to take the kids to where you're going, but you'll get there and save your wife and children the despair of THE MINIVAN!!!

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