To The Dearly Departed: 2002 Dodge Grand Caravan

It was a handsome car, as far as prosaic family haulers go. The aggressive belt-line crease lent the car an air of lean athleticism. Our Caravan was clad in silver with black trim and privacy glass, which aged well in my eyes. Of course, Rachael will tell you that my taste in vehiculars is suspect at best. And frankly she may have a point—my taste in cars, like my taste in music, never truly advanced beyond the 90’s. On the inside, the car struggled to find that same timeless appeal. Not that Chrysler measurably fell short of the commercial standard for the age. It did not. Knobs and buttons were laid out in a thoughtful fashion. And yet. . . .

Allow me to describe it this way: when we sold the car last week, the buyer ran a CarFax right there in the front yard as the rain fell around us (a feat not even possible when the van was built 13 years ago). Falling rain, yes. CarFax, no. Turns out, our Grand Dodge Cara-wagon began life as a rental vehicle in Los Angeles. And that pretty much sums up the trouble with the car.

We got the base model mini-people-hauler, complete with navy-blue carpets and carnival-grade plastic appointments. Granted, cheap plastic and color schemes do not a bad car make; they are strictly aesthetic concerns. But, blue carpet shows dirt, which means I vacuum once a week. A task I religiously observed every Saturday. Cheap plastic scratches easily and shows wear unless episodically saturated with copious amounts of Armorall. And this we did not do.

A lover of pragmatic machines, I loved the van. Few cars can compete with a minivan for sheer practical applicability. One minute it hauls people, the next it becomes pickup with a camper. Combine with that the reasonable price tag tied to a Caravan, and suddenly you’re staring at one of the greatest wheeled values known to man.

As I remember it, shooting from the hip now, the van cost us $8500 before the credit we received for the Taurus. In the intervening seven and one half years since that purchase, we drove the van a solid 80,000 miles. Much has been made in the press about the unreliability of American automobiles as compared to their Japanese counterparts. As a young man, fiercely loyal to the country that nurtured me as a youth and continues to offer me liberties of belief and mobility, this rankled.

Now somewhat older and the owner of a ‘95 Nissan XE, my position has softened. Today, I freely acknowledge a clear disparity in build quality and many times in engineering and design. In some cases, American manufacturers simply do not build the type of vehicle I would like to drive. (Think: compact wagon, manual transmission.) And yet in most cases, at least for the last several years, I’m not sure that the disparity in quality and design merits the discrepancy in cost. The act of buying our Caravan put that proposition to the test.

Fortunately for us, the wisdom behind our position has been borne out. In rough numbers, I figure the van cost us at most $13,000 over eight years to own and to maintain (not including gas or oil changes). Since comparably aged and equipped import minivans fetch between $12k and $14k used (with more miles), I feel like we made the right decision from an economic standpoint. Okay, so I’ve waxed didactic and in so doing stand to obscure to true magic of this minivan. What is important for our purposes today is that the van was fairly reliable. When it wasn’t, I was able to handle most of the repairs on my own with a little help from my friends YouTube.

These repairs included replacing the tires, thermostat, blower fan capacitor (twice), serpentine belt, belt tensioner, rotors and pads, alternator, battery, and water pump. Mechanics helped with rear drum brakes, a couple of oil leaks, and the air conditioning (twice). All told pretty minor stuff.

It is not my purpose in writing to justify my position on purchasing American-manufactured automobiles. I offer these thoughts as a memorial to a great vehicle that schlepped our family and gear for the better part of a decade and did so economically. Ultimately, the ever-expanding size of our family (until Ivy, that is) and the growth of our children combined with our interest in gear-heavy outdoor activities (i.e., camping and cycling) led us to begin looking for a larger, more powerful, and more substantial vehicle.

We invested in roof racks, bike trays, a car carrier, a hitch, and a hitch-mounted rack. All this allowed us to extend the van’s hauling capacity as the kids grew and absorbed more of the available space in the van. And yet, the tell-tale reverse rake, wobbly cornering, and increased squealing from the back seat all portended an end of an “transportative” era for our family.
 

One day, I will spend a few minutes memorializing the reasons behind our purchase of the Caravan’s successor. But out of respect for the dearly departed, today is not that day. O Caravan for your years of faithful service we salute you. We do not blame you for your cheap plastics, periodic minor repairs, and waning handling. We lay that at the feet of Detroit with all her troubles. In short, our Dodge Grand Caravan represented a convenient, economical set of wheels for a young family. It’s great gas mileage and sliding doors will be sorely missed.

Dear Caravan, adieu.