"I am NOT riding in that thing," said my wife.

That "thing" she is referring to is my beloved green minivan with more miles than most spaceships. It also has more stories to tell than most of the cars whizzing around the track at Lernerville, with the dents to back up any tall tale I might try to fabricate.

The reason for her disdain, though, has nothing to do with the dents, lack of air conditioning, worn tires or wimpy wipers. No. Her groans are a result of the physical conditions inside the van.

Most passengers are greeted by numerous papers, books, CDs (even though I only have a tape player that doesn't work), an occasional empty bottle of soda, and Post-it notes that have telephone numbers without corresponding names. And that's just the front seat.

In row two, where the kids sit, all bets are off as to what you might find. There will definitely be remnants of McDonald's french fries since that is all either of my kids eats right now. Most times a passenger can find discarded sunglasses with only one ear hook, as well as fancy sunglasses that the kids insist on wearing anytime the sun is out.

On the floor (aka my work desk,) one will find notebooks, books, identification cards, manuals and fliers that I distribute to clients, pens (some that work and some that don't) and even a pair of golf shoes and socks.

What is most disturbing about my wife's comment, though, is that the van is a reflection of my life right now. Her comment hit home - not just about the state of my transportation but my current hectic lifestyle.

My morning life is spent catering to both of my children, which entails dropping them off at the baby sitter's house, preschool or a grandparent's home each morning prior to my workday even beginning. So while some of you drive to work in your shiny little sports cars or SUVs, the back of my van has already seen two juice spills, a Cheerio fight and a runny nose before pushing out of the driveway.

It's not pretty, and I am not dumb enough to drive a vehicle that is actually worth something - at least not right now.

Instead, I consider my van a comfortable place. Sure, it's messy, but so is my life. Right now, my goal is to get both kids into the Mars School District, when they are able to go to kindergarten, with fewer scratches and dents than my van has.

As a result, very little attention needs to be paid to vacuuming the carpet, cleaning the dashboard or washing the windows. Instead, "fun" is the goal of the trips I take each day with my kids, so there are going to be toys, books and snacks - sometimes enough for all three of us!

Most important, however, is that I simply do not have time to coddle this mechanical menace. It's bad enough putting gas or two quarts of oil in the darn thing each week, let alone actually worry about the physical interior of what is going to become a collector's clunker in a few months.

Additionally, the Green Machine is paid for, which provides some financial incentive to drive the thing into the ground, assuring exactly zero trade-in dollars when she does actually go to that big used car lot in the sky.

Perhaps the greatest retribution, though, occurred last week when we were getting ready to leave a restaurant and my wife opened one of the doors to put my son in his seat. A driver that was parked in an adjoining space looked over at my wife and started to giggle.

The words she spoke to my wife were priceless. "I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one with a messy van," she said while putting her car into reverse.

So am I.