Jackson Free Press

What is the deal with my life and minivans? All of a sudden I seem to find myself ensconced in the little buggers just a little more often than I care to admit. (Although the careful reader will note that I'm admitting it here in print.)

This past week Ms. D and I found ourselves once again at the rental counter, this time in search of something that could hold a little furniture, like the cavernous cargo hold of a minivan.

Of course, if aliens landed here tomorrow and asked why we call them "minivans," we'd be at a loss. They're huge, and we might as well admit that and move on. That said, I don't find Ms. D's insistence that they be called "maxi vans" to be either useful or particularly amusing. She got a giggle out of the suggestion, if only because it made me squirm.

The minivan model that I picked out was the Ford Freestar, since I figured it'd give me a chance to check out the latest in minivan technology. We ended up in a light gray Freestar SE that, truth be told, ended up serving its purpose nicely.

My first impression was a little less than flattering, though—after climbing in, I've got to say I was pretty well shocked at the cheap style of the dashboard and controls, functional and certainly not ugly, but extremely Spartan. Considering the SE model starts a little north of $26,000, I was a bit surprised by that.

The Freestar SE offered some requisite comforts—the front captain's chairs were comfortable, and cupholders were everywhere, including four that were accessible from the front seats. (Two were really bottle holders in the doors.)

Since it was only the two of us in our minivan (there's a song in there somewhere), and we were planning to do some hauling, I took out the second-level seat. A little wrestling was required, but I was able to haul it away without too much help (and, indeed, perhaps a little superior contempt) from Ms. D. The third-level seat is really cool—it splits apart and folds over into a cargo area, creating a completely flat floor. You'd have to see it to totally understand, but it's ingenious.

Once we hit the road, though, I started to sink into the Freestar a bit more completely. First, what most minivan owners know is that today's vans are big and tall enough not to feel intimidated by 18-wheelers while, at the same time, not fighting the wind (and, frankly, most of the laws of physics) in the same way that big SUVs do. The Freestar had plenty of power and got decent gas mileage, topping out at 23 mpg on the interstate, but getting a respectable 17 mpg in town, too. Unfortunately, that doesn't compete well in the segment—many Japanese models do better. (Although, for a Miata owner, any $40 trip to the pump is a bit of a shocker.)

Handling surprised me, too—I actually didn't mind driving this van around the neighborhood and didn't have as much trouble bringing it to a complete stop at stop signs that all those Expedition and Envoy owners from First Pres seem to have with their people movers. Maybe minivans have gotten too bad of a rap.

What the Ford Freestar doesn't do that the Nissan Quest is very guilty of (and Toyota Sienna slightly guilty of) is make their minivan look silly. Although it's got huge, multifaceted "eyes" for headlamps, it's otherwise a very clean, straightforward design. Hunkered down out in front of the house (which is one of my "could I seriously own this thing?" tests) it looked reasonably at home—nondescript but classy. Even Ms. D mentioned not completely hating the way it looked on the outside and, after a few hundred miles and a bag of Chik-o-Stiks, she seemed to be enjoying stepping up into the cab, sitting on her throne and watching the pavement glide by.

Overall, the best thing I can say about it is that it's serviceable—perhaps extremely so. Sans seats, the cargo area offered room for an amazing amount of stuff for the antique-hunter or camper or—I suppose—parent. And, frankly, it was pretty much a pleasure to drive at 70 on the interstate—in fact I remember a delightful two hours with "Prairie Home Companion," a Coke in one of the cupholders and some roasted peanuts.