Ain’t she purdy? Friday night my soon-to-be husband and I went to the local Jeep dealership in search of a new vehicle. We thought we’d found what we wanted online, so they went looking for that particular Jeep; we were left to our own devices, wandering the lot. They took FOR-EV-VER to find it. By the time they did it was too late; we had already fallen in automotive love with another model.
5 Signs You’re
Sadly A Grown Up A Responsible Adult:
- You actually consider carseats: Anchors, how wide the door opens, and distance from the driver’s seat to the back bench
- Safety ratings really mean something: The stars on the window sticker aren’t enough because we’re talking research, reviews, videos, testimonies, and recalls
- Financing is more than a monthly payment: Money going to this payment is money not going into the “Retirement/Savings/General Budget/Vacation Fund/
Ash Loves Boots Collection PlateBabies Cost Money” plan for FIVE YEARS – is it worth it? No, really. Is it?
- Floor mats are a thing: Do you really want to be vacuuming crushed Cheerios out of that? How easily can a spoiled milk stench be removed?
- Backseat comfort: Can we have another couple in the back riding comfortably? Will our babies need a helmet, not because their heads aren’t round, but because they’re jostled on the way to Gymboree?
I’ve had a lot of cars, y’all, and I have never once considered the backseat, other passengers, sacrificial financing, or babies. As a woman, I’m told I’m supposed to care about cup-holders or whatever. Uh, okay (?) – can I retrieve a dropped binky? What if my child plays hockey? Have you seen how big those equipment bags are?!
This little ice blue nugget was the fastest girl in town. Literally. It’s amazing I didn’t get more speeding tickets, and the one I did get was for a 45 in a 35, so it’s not like it was anything too daring. Her name was Minnie and I loved her. Even though she’s a car, I’m pretty sure she felt the same.
Minnie and I made it through two state-wide campaigns, 5 moves, 5 states, and 43,200 miles together over 36 months. (Yes, I moved 5 times in 36 months… I really do believe the Lord has prepared me to be this Marine’s wife.) The interior cabin lights faded from red to purple to blue to green to yellow back to red, giving her passengers official membership into “The Hot Tub Club.” Even when I hit a pothole the size of a microwave and blew out the front right tire, Minnie was a trooper and wouldn’t let us stop in front of the seedy XXX store, but trudged up the hill to a well-lit grocery store parking lot.
Adam and I gave consideration to financing the balloon payment at the end of the lease, but if we’re going to be paying that much money, it’d better be toward something that will be returning dividends in two years. In two years, we’d likely have to move into another car and I’d like to see anyone other than Stretch Armstrong strap a carseat in a Mini Cooper S.