Donating the family car was, for Miranda Ferrante, like losing a member of the family. The Ferrante family had owned the car, a 2002 GMC Yukon XL, for 22 years. At the time, Ferrante and her twin brother were 17 months old. After the twins were born, their parents knew that the minivan they owned, was no longer large enough to serve their expanding family.
So, back in 2002, Miranda Ferrante’s dad held her in his arms, and asked which of three cars she liked the best. Ferrante pointed her “small toddler finger” at the pewter-colored car, and that was it. The Ferrante family purchased the car, and so began a “journey” of 22 years’ duration.
Extension of the Family
Miranda Ferrante came to see that pewter-colored as an extension of her family:
“Our car was part of the family. We spent a lot of time together — from the drive to work or school each day, to it being what keeps us warm from the grueling winter storms and transported us to vacations, where lifelong memories were made. Cars are personal. And it makes perfect sense why some, like my family, give them nicknames and a vanity license plate.”
The nickname bestowed upon the Ferrante van was, “The Tank.”
When you spend so much time in a car, it’s difficult to part. In fact, when Miranda Ferrante’s mom broke the news—that she’d donated the car—Ferrante’s eyes filled with tears. The entire Ferrante household, in fact, was emotional over giving up the car that had been a member of the family for so long.
22 Years of Assigned Seating
The Ferrantes, up until they donated the car to Kars4Kids in March, had always sat in the same assigned seats during road trips. Dad drove with Miranda sitting behind him. Mom sat in the passenger seat, with Miranda’s brother behind her. The truth is, says Miranda, “With three rows and eight seats, we had a lot of options when it came to where to sit. But we never deviated from the ones we chose.”
That’s how intertwined they were, the Ferrante family, and its pewter-colored van. It felt strange then, to see the missing spot in the driveway. Miranda had felt connected to the car, and now it was gone with a suddenness that left her feeling like she’d lost someone close.
The Tank was Fading
But of course, just as the twins grew to adulthood, so too The Tank. The Tank, like the family it belonged to, had aged. Its exterior had faded, and the brakes had gone “wonky.” It had to be faced: it was time to give up The Tank. That has proven difficult for Miranda Ferrante:
A piece of our family is missing. We’re grieving all the little moments and memories that the car was there for. “The tank” was quite literally there for us during major life milestones, physically carrying my brother and I through our formative years: My dance recitals, his musical performances, our first high school party and college move in days.
Each day when I come home from work or my classes, I expect “The tank” to be in our driveway. But it’s no longer there. And like the saying “you don’t know what you’ve lost until it’s gone,” I didn’t really think about its significance until we donated it.
It’s difficult for people to give up their cars—like Miranda, they feel a strong attachment to the vehicle that had taken them to so many important events—a car that had witnessed so many milestones. We get it, but we’d like to reassure Miranda that The Tank will continue to have a significant impact, if not on the Ferrante family, then for the children and families that will now benefit from their generosity. Here’s to hoping that the next Ferrante family car will come to be every much a member of the family as The Tank.
