I'm not the kind of person who finds conspiracy lurking under every rock and behind every social ill. Okay, okay. That's a total lie. (A lie perpetuated by the vast cabal of my enemies?)

Every once in a while, I find evidence of conspiracy. Most recently, I found it behind the wheel of my beloved mommyvan.

I bought my mommyvan back in 2004 shortly after our daughter Buttercup joined our family. Having a daughter has enriched my life in ways I could never have predicted. It also has filled our lives - filled our lives and our home and our vehicles. Between the baby luggage, toys, and massive car seat that is bigger than the first automobile I owned, Buttercup and her baby accoutrements have filled, quite literally, just about every physical space in sight.

It was quickly apparent that, what with that jet jumpseat of a safety device, my compact Honda sedan just wasn't going to do the trick. Once that car seat went into the back seat, there was just barely room for the baby's diaper bag, security blanket, favorite stuffed animal and steady supply of Cheerios. We were a family of four who barely fit into our car. We had to find something that gave us a little more elbow room.

Enter the mommyvan with six cylinders of raw, child-transporting power, comfortable seating for seven (okay, only six if you want to be comfortable), a bird's-eye view of the road that a short gal like me has never seen before, and enough drink holders to keep a baseball team thoroughly hydrated. I love my van. It anticipates my every need and offers it up on a silver platter at my fingertips. And I don't even have the expensive model. Sunglasses cubby? Check. Stowaway seats? Check. Stereo system with a radio that plays both FM AND AM? Check. Folks - my van has dedicated cup holders for 10, count 'em, beverages. That darn vehicle doesn't even hold 10 people.

My biggest fear about moving up here to the snow was that, come wintertime, I might have to give up my van in favor of something with 4-wheel drive. And, lo', I discovered it's possible to upgrade. The only thing my mommyvan doesn't have is a single ounce of respect on the road.

When was the last time you heard someone describe their fantasy car as a minivan with automatic doors and rear camera system? I'll tell you when: Never. I had pretty much accepted that fact, and hidden my adoration of the minivan from public view until I recently read a theory by a woman who keeps a blog (you know, on the Internet) called American Family. She postulates - and I think correctly - that the minivan gets short shrift because it is designed to accommodate women and children, and in the automotive world, "cool" vehicles are designed for men. It's hard to argue. My Honda van (not a paid product placement) can do just about anything that your truck can do - pull a trailer, carry a room's worth of tile or lumber, move furniture. And I can bring my daughter with me when I do it, AND probably get better gas mileage.

But will anyone else call my ride sweet? Don't count on it. Instead, the nation worships at the altar of military-styled vehicles like Jeeps and Hummers, SUVs that have all the spacious convenience of a 1971 Volkswagen Beetle and all the fuel efficiency of a Boeing jet, and sports cars that are everyman's substitute for a great big, um, ego. Ladies and gentlemen, it's time we minivan drivers fight back. We must claim the respect due to us. Shout it from the rooftops: I love my minivan. In the '60s, women rallied around the cry, "Take Back the Night."

I say we need to rally 'round the minivan. Yes, it's a woman's car. Yes, it's a child's car. And yes, it's the coolest thing on the road.

Now drop some "Blue's Clue's" in that on-board DVD player and let's roll.

We've got to get our preschool on.

Women, it's time to Take Back the Minivan.

Elizabeth Trever Buchinger is a freelance writer who got her first and only speeding ticket while driving her van in Leatherstocking country. She can be reached at VillageWordsmith@hughes.net.