I’m not a regular dad, I’m a cool dad

"Do you at least know what kind of car you're looking for?" Mrs. M sounded understandably exasperated.

 

"Not really," I said, clicking on to the next page of results on the website. "Something cool."

 

In coming to terms with what that second little blue line meant for our family and for our plans, we looked out at our little red hatchback and agreed it had to go. The days when four of us slid round the back of a Nissan Bluebird were gone, and everyone had to have their own booster seat and seatbelt, which the little red car wouldn't readily accommodate. That car wasn't cool. It was staid. Reliable. Efficient. Dull.

 

We needed to go bigger, and I briefly harboured dreams of getting my old Land Rover back. I got rid of it just before AJ came along, when I realised I couldn't actually depend on it being able to get Mrs. M to the hospital. It was ugly, unreliable and it drank petrol, but I loved the stupid hulking thing. That was a cool car.

 

Budgets being tight, though, it soon became apparent that I wasn't going to find the off-road monster of my dreams in our price range, and it was time to change the search terms to an MPV. To a people carrier. To a – dare I say it? – mini-van.

 

My mini-van is cool.

 

No, really! I've embraced mine, now that I have it. I sit high off the road, the radio goes to 11 and, while I'm not planning on drag racing the thing, it's quick enough to merge onto a motorway without causing a rash of brake lights and honking.

 

But the Bruce Springsteen imagery that comes with sleeker cars is conspicuously missing – you're not going to suddenly believe the M50 is the New Jersey Turnpike or the Naas Road is Route 66. The mini-van (MPV, people carrier, whatever you want to call it) comes with the promise of sports gear and instrument cases. Of excited chatter in the back as it gets steered onto the car ferry – and even more when it gets steered off!

 

It will be filled with Cheerios and Lego, booster seats and isofixes. There's even enough life left in it that it might – though I admit it's a long shot – live to see a set of 'L' plates.

 

It's a Dad Car, and proud of it.

 

We were driving along a week or two after we got it, and I asked AJ what he thought of the new car.

 

"It's cool," he said. "Look, it has tables in the back." Some people are easily pleased.

 

"Hey Dad," he added. "Can you turn down the radio please? I hate this old guy song, and I can't hear the iPad."

 

Oh yeah. Tramps like us, baby we were born to stop for diesel and maybe something small, but only if  you promise to be good all the way to Nana's.

John Madden is a freelance designer, writer and dad from Dublin. You can find him on Twitter as @johnmadden78.