By Stephen M

The car guy has two principle responsibilities (in the eyes of the non-car guy, that is). The first is to expertly diagnose any intermittent automotive ailment, based on made-up words and indescribable noises.

"The steering feels skoovy and makes a "gfnah gfnaw" noise sometimes when it's cold."

The diagnosis must include a repair cost estimate accurate to within 5% at an unspecified mechanic of unknowable ethics. The second, somewhat more pleasant responsibility is giving recommendations to anyone looking to purchase a new vehicle. This duty has been made somewhat easier over the past few decades, thanks to huge, across-the-board advances in utility, safety, reliability, and performance. And although it sounds like an auto-rag cop-out, it is true that there are market segments with no bad choices. All I usually need are a few quick answers about desired price range, size, features, and clarification of any national origin biases ("Would it be okay if your 'German/Japanese' car was built in the US?"). It was in the context of this second duty that a friend recently laid out the following requirements for a vehicle to replace their aging Pacifica:

"I want a decent sized third row of seating for long trips. I want it easy to get in and out of, reasonably good on gas, not drive like a truck, and I rather not buy another US car..."

"Easy", I thought to myself. Toyota Sienna. Meets all of the above and has an advantage over the Honda Odyssey in terms of some negotiating room due to a bit less demand, which in turn is due to the offense of not being a Honda.  But before I could issue my sage pronouncement, I was thrown for a loop by:

"..and I DON'T want a minivan."

"YES, you do" I thought but didn't say. You just spent a minute telling me you wanted a minivan in so many words, and then undid all that with a one-line non-sequitir. I didn't mention any of this, of course, because the body english made it clear that any minivan so-named was a non starter. Nor did I point out that, for all intents and purposes, they already owned a minivan in the Pacifica. What to do?

I should note that up to this point, the explosion of so-called "cross over" vehicles, "tall wagons," SAV-s, and other alphabet soup invented segments has been a mystery to me. Why do manufacturers spend such effort trying to sell minivans by other names? But now it was clear, as the focus groups must have told them. There was tremendous demand for a non-minivan minivan. What a frustrating meeting that must have been for the marketing types.

"We have a great vehicle that meets all the customer's requirements, and they won't buy it for that very reason."

Thus began the marketing push. Selling minivans by any other name. Behold the power of semantics.

One tack at this point would have been to further query as to what constituted a "minivan", in their eyes. I held my tongue, though, expecting a "You know it when you see it" -type response. So instead I tried to think of the most minivan-like thing I could slip in under the radar. "How about an R-Class Mercedes?" I opined. I mentioned the absurdly powered AMG version, hoping that might get the husband to the dealer for a test drive. Once there, I figured the ride, space, utility, and brand-name panache might allow the car to sell itself.

That is, as long as the salesman never uttered the word "minivan."

I assume they know better .