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Mark Freeman Commentary Sadly breaking the bond of trust My past 11 years here as the Mail Tribune�s resident boutdoor writer have been nothing short of my dream job, and that�s what makes the possibility of losing it seem so somber. The hunters, fishers and other lovers of the outdoors here are some of the most interesting and passionate people a newspaper writer could ever be lucky enough to encounter. And for that, I will always be grateful. But after almost 900 columns and features about Southern Oregonians and their outdoor pursuits, I may no longer be qualified today to continue in this capacity. I have broken my bond of trust with you, a trust I�ve worked so long and so hard to gain and even harder to live up to each Thursday. It is with great regret, and a heavy heart, that I say: I just bought a minivan. A minivan. The very essence of wimp-dom. The automotive equivalent of erectile dysfunction. Four wheels, three seats, two cup-holders and one fast ticket into the realization that the car I now own has turned me into a soccer mom without a bra. A minivan. The antithesis of an outdoor vehicle. It�s the ultimate family car, and the most non-truck car out there. A minivan is the anti-rig, and signing the registration on it is tantamount to signing my resignation. A mini van. You even whine just saying the word. Mmmmminnnnivann. Driving this metal and plastic box tells the world, "I carpool. Therefore, I am." How can I write about hunting and fishing and other high-octane outdoor pursuits while driving a car made for people who think mall-walking is exercise in the Great Outdoors? But one sits in my garage. Has since Sunday, actually. A Plymouth Grand Voyager. It�s green, or blue, or something. Might as well have a big pink triangle painted on the side. I�m not sure if the Rogue Valley is ready to accept me for what I have become. I�m not sure I�m ready to accept it. But this is the reality, and I hope coming forward and admitting my transgressions will keep me in decent standing with the outdoors community here. Now, before a torch-wielding mob storms the Mail Tribune and demands my severed head in a deer bag, let me at least say a few words in defense of me keeping my job. It�s mainly my wife�s minivan. We�ve got two little kids now. Both in car seats. The back seat in the current family rig, a Toyota Fourrunner, isn�t wide enough to put one 3-year-old boy in a car seat next to a 3-month-old girl in a car seat without a reasonable expectation that the 3-year-old boy will imbed a Hot Wheels car into the forehead of the 3-month-old girl before you can say, "Don�t make me stop this car..." So, we needed something that has a bit more interior room. I was thinking more like a Suburban, or F-250 Extra-Cab. Something with a hitch on the back, a winch in the front and bench seats made for driving with waders and studded shoes on. My wife was thinking, minivan. A minivan? This thing has the clearance of a clown car. Gary Coleman could step into it without a stool. I�ve got bait containers with harder plastic than its so-called bumper. I can�t tow my driftboat behind a minivan. Really. There�s a clause in the Willie Boats� owners� manual that says, if you�re seen towing a Willie Boat with a minivan, the boat and trailer are impounded until such time as a suitable owner can be found. A minivan? When you buy one of these things, they give you a free Barry Manilow CD and enough Viagra to cover the life of the loan. The dealer doesn�t tell you how many cubic inches the engine is, but they hand out a detailed brochure on how many grocery bags you can get in the back and still shut the tailgate without either spilling your latte or harming your manicure. Frankly, I�m just as disappointed in me as you are. For the past decade, we�ve been a two-rig family. I�ve driven the same 1985 Jeep Cherokee for more than one-third of my entire lifetime. This old rig is famous for not being washed since the last time a guy named Bush ran for president. Not only does it require registration through Department of Motor Vehicles, but it also has so much trash on the floor that it requires a Department of Environmental Quality landfill permit. That Jeep is the only thing I still have from my bachelor days, except this one particular scar on my right shoulder when I dove into a drained reservoir and landed on a broken beer bottle. The Fourrunner is more for formal engagements. Like taking my wife to Mother�s Day breakfast at the nearby Mini-Mart. I once told my wife, if you come home with a minivan, you might as well get yourself a lawyer. But Sunday, I�m the one who came home with the minivan, and no one is dividing the family assets. The minivan is for family stuff. I�ll mainly drive the Fourrunner. The Jeep is the odd-rig out. And, alas, it will get the dreaded For Sale sign in the window this week. I drove it myself the other night. I put on a disguise, loaded up the family and took them for ice cream. It�s good to get everyone in the car together, without cramping or fighting. On Sunday, with family visiting for the holiday, we�ll pack three adults and three kids inside and drive up to Diamond Lake for the day � something we couldn�t do in the pre-you-know-what days. And I suspect I�ll be welcomed back to my desk Tuesday, planning another week�s outdoor coverage and seeing if I can get a waiver from Willie Boats so I can get a hitch installed while spring chinook salmon fishing is still good on the Rogue River. (Staff writer Mark Freeman covers the outdoors for the Mail Tribune. Call him at 776-4470, or e-mail him at: [email protected] ) Outdoor Journal Today's Edition : News | Sports | Business | Weather | Tempo | Classifieds Mail Tribune Mail Tribune � 2000 -- Medford, Oregon USA