In 1983, Lee Iococca, and his team at Chrysler, introduced the roomy, reliable, safe, and ubiquitous minivan to the world. The production of the Dodge Grand Caravan and Plymouth Voyager not only saved the flailing automotive company, but in the process created a new vehicle category – the consummate family vehicle. As Cindy Donatelli argues, the timing of the minivan introduction coincided with Ronald Reagan’s “family values” campaign, often considered a backlash against the second-wave feminist visions of the 1960s and 1970s. As a “lifestyle enabler,”[1] the minivan – purposefully and aggressively identified with women by automakers, marketers, and the media – reinforced the notion that women bear primary responsibility for housework and childcare. As such, writes Donatelli, the minivan belongs to the nineteenth and twentieth century technological developments that “define domesticity as a female regime by identifying women, rather than men, with material objects and practices in the context of the home” (90).
In the election year of 1996, the ‘soccer mom’ became an important demographic category in American politics. While the term was most often called upon to define a particular white, middle-class, female suburban voter base, it was eventually appropriated into mainstream culture to describe a woman who devotes an inordinate amount of time transporting her school-age children to a myriad of sporting events and other activities. When pictured in the media, the soccer mom was invariably found behind the wheel of a minivan, crossover, or small SUV. As Donatelli suggests, the soccer mom phenomenon was the product of “an accidental convergence of vehicle choice, children, sport, and election year politics” (92). While women drivers have long been linked to a specific type of family vehicle – e.g. the station wagon of the 1950s and 1960s and the 1970s hatchback sedan – the soccer mom era forever cemented the notion of the “woman’s car” into the public consciousness. Sturdy, spacious, safe, and utilitarian, the “woman’s car” has become synonymous with a vehicle equipped especially for carrying kids and cargo.
During the time of the minivan’s introduction, I was working at an automotive advertising agency working on the Buick account. While I recognized the minivan’s value to a large segment of the US population, as a childless woman working to establish herself in a career populated by overtly conservative men, I distanced myself from the implications driving such a vehicle would generate. I vowed to never, ever, own a minivan, and was able to keep that promise to myself for a number of decades. Although, at this time, I began breeding and showing dogs, I looked pass the popular vehicle to consider other choices for hauling multiple, very large dogs. Under no circumstances did I want to be associated with a vehicle that Donatelli described as “the locus of daily family life,” even when that family was canine (89).
Flash forward 30 plus years and the conversation surrounding the minivan has greatly diminished. Its popularity has been overwhelmingly surpassed by that of the ubiquitous SUV. Although there are still remnants of its ‘mom car’ reputation remaining, advertising increasingly features dad behind the wheel, a positive and affirming move that suggests both parents are equally responsible for child rearing.
My own life has changed as well. No longer working as a full time professional, and no longer engaged in the dog show world, my dog hauling vehicle only has to accommodate two [still large] dogs. So a couple of years ago I did the unthinkable. I purchased one of the few minivans still on the market – a 2024 Kia Carnival.
It was a carefully thought-out choice. I measured the rear door opening for its ability to accommodate side-by-side cargo crates. I chose a vehicle with rear seats that could be removed to provide a flat surface for those crates. As both the dogs and are getting older, the lower floor – particularly when compared to that of an SUV – made entering easier for my senior dogs as well as my aging self.
A recent Edmunds.com article praised the Kia not because it’s cool [which it most definitely is not] but “because it’s so darn good at most everything you’d want it to be.” And as I discovered, that includes traveling with a couple of bullmastiffs. We recently took a road trip via Milwaukee [to visit my stepson] to Minnesota to take part in the annual family gathering at the Minnesota State Fair. Although the dogs were only with us for part of the way [they were dropped off at a friend’s boarding kennel in Kenosha] they were cool and comfortable for that leg of the trip. And so were we. Although I missed the power and performance of my Golf R, I-94 does not present many opportunities for quick acceleration [0 to 60 in 3.9 seconds] or tight cornering. The Kia describes itself as a multi-purpose vehicle [MPV], which perhaps suggests it is trying to “make you forget what you are driving.” While that is stretching reality just a bit, I have finally come to terms with the notion that one is not [always] what one drives. I am happy that the minivan continues to serve such an important function for families of all shapes and sizes. And I am glad that I have – at long last -gotten over my stubborn aversion to the minivan as a practical vehicle choice.
[1] Taken from a 1994 quote by Dick Johnson, former creative director at Chrysler ad agency BBDO, cited by Cindy Donatelli (88).
Donatelli, Cindy. “Driving the Suburbs: Minivans, Gender, and Family Values.” Material History Review 54 (2001): 84-95.
