On Saturday I traded in my 13-year-old Dodge Grand Caravan, and it was an emotional parting.

By Ronni Newton

I have a new car.

Some people change what they drive every few years. Most do it at least once a decade. We’re not big on change for change’s sake in our family, so we tend to keep cars until pieces start to fall off or the fear of breaking down becomes too great.

On Saturday I traded in my silver 2002 Dodge Grand Caravan, a vehicle my family purchased new in April 2002, when my son was not quite 4 years old and my daughter had just turned 7.

Yes, I know that it’s a car and not a living creature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be sad about giving up something that’s been part of my life for more than 13 years. Moving on to a different type of car is just another reminder that my children have grown up, too.

I cried a bit when I climbed out of the driver’s seat for the last time, but I also cried when I was driving the van home on the day we bought it. Even though it was the vehicle I chose, and it was perfect for our family of two young children and one largish furry dog, that day it made me realize that my transition from high level business executive to soccer mom was complete.

The van has served us well throughout the past 13 years. We never took any marathon road trips across the country in it, but we journeyed to North Carolina a few times and drove it out of the country to Quebec and Montreal about eight years ago.

The van carried loads of gymnasts to meets throughout the east coast. One young gymnast “wrote” on a steamed-up window in the third row, and that note was visible for years every time the window fogged up.

It lugged countless stinky boys with their odorous soccer and baseball equipment to practices and games all over the northeast. (In truth, the gymnasts with their chalky and sweaty grips were just as, if not more, stinky.)

I should mention that we also drove to girls soccer, basketball, and lacrosse practices. And boys basketball. And track meets.

With seating for seven, it was the ideal vehicle for carpooling, and we were active participants for years to school as well as to all those sports practices.

My “RUN MOM” license plate, a surprise gift from my husband right after we bought the car, spoke the truth on several levels. Not only was the van a great car for shuttling kids around, but it was a car that belonged to a runner – really a family of runners. It’s been driven to and from countless 5K’s, half marathons, and a couple of full marathons.

We brought our first dog on his final trip to the vet in the van. About six months later we brought home our new puppy. She threw up every time she rode in it for the first year of her life.

Two years ago we filled the van to the brim and safely sent my daughter off to her freshman year of college.

When we got the van my son still sat in a booster seat. He was fascinated with the outdoor temperature display and it helped him learn to count.

Years later we taught both kids to drive in the van.

On Saturday morning I carefully removed the magnets and the University of Connecticut decal from the back of the van. I wasn’t able to remove the “Student of the Month” and other assorted stickers representing our life journey of the past 13-plus years.

On Saturday I drove home in my new Mazda CX-9. It’s a gorgeous shiny metallic blue. It has heated leather seats and a back-up camera and navigation and a moon roof. It had four miles on the odometer when we signed the paperwork.

My son will be a senior in high school this fall and my daughter is a junior in college. The van had a good deal of rust and was making some not-so-good noises. The engine light was on.

We’ve all grown up and are ready for a change.

But I’m glad we have a third row, so we can still transport a full load of kids and their stuff and the dog. I’m not quite ready to transition beyond that. Not yet.

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