The mood was somber at Rico's Southwestern Tavern last night as five men came together to mourn the lost youth of David Chambers, whose wife forced him to buy a minivan.
"Look at that thing!" Chambers exclaimed, sorrowfully pointing to the burgundy Dodge Caravan in the parking lot. His friends noticed the glimmer of a tear in his eye. "Julie says it's better for the kids, but what about me? It's so embarrassing to be seen in that thing!"
Chambers and his friends then fondly reminisced about the good old days - back when they were in high school and college, when they drove cars that looked cool and went really fast and required constant attention.
"I remember when Julie decided that we needed a four-door so we could get the baby seat in and out of the back seat easier." Chambers put his head in his hands and sobbed, "I should have known that it was the beginning of the end."
His friends all nodded sympathetically, expressing their understanding of this difficult situation. And they, too, glanced mournfully out into the parking lot, each shaking his head at his own Dodge Caravan.
"This is it," sniffed Chambers. "She's stolen every last bit of manhood from me. Not only can I not zip around town, speeding by arrogant teenagers and enjoying the admiring glances of young women, but now I have to ride around town in a gigantic tank filled with coloring books and crayons and juice boxes, listening to Sharon, Lois, and Bram songs over and over on the tape player. It's so emasculating," and his voice faded away.
And with that, the men ordered another round of caffeine-free diet soda and toasted to the good old days.