First Marko, now Les Jones...
That's two friends now that have posted happy reviews of their swell new vehicles, rambling on about cubic feet of storage instead of cubic inches of displacement; waxing eloquent about how well it'll hold a child seat instead of how well it'll hold your face against the window glass on a cloverleaf on-ramp; enthusing about getting third-row seating rather than getting rubber in third gear.
For the record, the cupholders in my ride absolutely suck.
Then again, if I'm doing my job, my passenger won't be worried about holding onto their drink; they'll be worried about holding onto their lunch.
Of course, what's illustrated here is the dichotomy between the family life and the wild, free, and irresponsible life of the single & childless thirtysomething. I love all my friends' kids, and there's nothing cuter than spending time with miniature humans and having them think you're really cool for paying attention to them, but at the end of the day I have to be able to hand them back because I know I have my hands full trying to pay attention to the kid whose picture is on the upper right corner of this page. Some folks just aren't cut out for the parenting gig, but if it keeps me out of minivans, it can't be all bad. ;)