The first death knell sounded for our pretty nice white minivan one day when the little kid was a newborn and the big kid wasn't yet two, and a driver careened through a red light and T-boned us at an intersection just a few blocks from home and across the street from the police station (I was so flustered calling 911 that when the operator asked for my location, I was all, "I'm right outside your house!"). Did you know that even if the other driver's insurer pays up, you're never going to get enough money to flat-out purchase a comparable car in a comparable condition to the one that the other driver trashed for you? Fun, right? We drove that minivan with the caved-in driver's side for years more, and actually it wasn't so bad because since the insurance totaled the car but it was still safely drivable, they paid us an extra coupla-grand for the salvage rights to the car and lowered our insurance payments, since who needs collision insurance on a car that's already been totaled? Of course, if your car already looks that beat-up then it's only downhill from there: window stop rolling down? Meh. Air conditioning stop working? What's the point, right? We even kept driving the damn thing after the transmission went out on the way home from Cleveland last winter--the trick was to keep the rpms under 2,000 and the speed under 20 mph. We were SO happy when my partner's parents offered us their old minivan and we could officially trash this white one that's been half-dead for four years already. And wouldn't you know, when my partner called the insurer to tell them that they could pick up the car for salvage, they said, "Yeah, we don't really actually want it. Feel free to junk it yourself." And so while my partner waits for the perfect offer (he's holding out for $220 at least), our junked minivan just sits in the driveway, a giant white paperweight. White. Like, blank canvas white. I told the kids that they could paint the car. Our paints are standard student-grade tempera, and the brushes are soft student-grade acrylic brushes: Our kids are standard student-grade kids, and they jump right in, as you can see: Yep, I even let the big kid climb onto the roof. But I assure you, when she's not busy breaking her leg at the playground, she is quite the little mountain goat: A little paint got on the children, as well as the car: Especially when they discovered splatter paint, Pollock-style: Behold, our masterpiece!  A rainstorm the same night knocked about 70% of that paint right off. It's freezing cold again outside, but as soon as it warms up I'm going to send the kids out with some buckets and soap and sponges and teach them how to wash the car up perfectly clean again. And then? We'll paint it! P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!