My boys and I always joke together: “If this van could talk it would never stop!” I feel relieved my 2001 Toyota Sienna can’t speak because it would probably report me for car abuse. Oil changes happen when I think of it (about every 30,000 miles), it gets washed when the color changes from white to grunge, and it usually gets cleaned out with a rake. I love cars, but I just don’t ever make the time to take care of my minivan. Other items of importance always push it low on my list of priorities.
Even though I don’t take good care of it, our Toyota has diligently worked for us even since I bought it, used, with 14,000 miles on it. If it could talk, our van would tell you about the summer we put 3,000 miles on it in one month when our friend came to visit from Australia, the carpool days when the noise inside is so loud it drowns out the screaming in my head, and the classic rock that’s blared after I’ve dropped all the kids off at school. (A girl’s got to have her vices!)
I gave my Toyota some serious love the other day because I realized it wasn’t going to clean itself and it was looking pretty disgusting. An empty bottle of Folex and some serious elbow grease later, it was looking pretty good. Some scratches and stains wouldn’t budge, but after ten years and 132,000 miles I wouldn’t expect it to look like new. And until my van can talk, these signs of wear are just going to have to tell the story of all the adventures our Toyota has been on with my family. I can live with that. Maybe if my Sienna could talk, it wouldn’t speak of abuse, but about being well-loved.
“I’m participating in a Toyota/TwitterMoms campaign, which inspired this post. My opinions, thoughts and feelings are my own. As a TwitterMom, I’m eligible for a courtesy gift of $50.00.”