We bought a car last week. Not just any car. A minivan.
I am now a mom with a minivan.
Next thing you know I’ll be signing my kids up for soccer. Won’t that be swell?
One of the reasons I was opposed to having a third child was that it meant we would have to buy another car, and I love my car. For one thing, it’s paid for. For another, it’s reliable. And most important, it has a stick shift.
Then we found out we were pregnant. Then we found out that third child was actually two children, and the minivan became inevitable. So I caved. But I’m not happy about it.
Who could be? I have to give up my sexy silver Accord (hey, it has a stick shift, okay?) for a big clunky car that doesn’t even have the option of a manual transmission. Loser vehicle.
Not to mention, it’s about as fun to drive as a sofa. A nice sofa. But still.
And the crowning insult is that I will be paying hundreds of dollars a month for the next five years for the dubious privilege of driving a couch-car and being a cliché.
The silver lining (because I’m the Queen of Silver Linings, right?) is that the auto-buying experience was actually pleasant. The only other time I bought a car, I hid in the bathroom, leaving Doug alone to fight off the sharky salesmen.
This time around, though, the salesman was totally nice, there were no surprise expenses, and the whole process took less than two hours. If you’re in the market for a car, I give Ed Oliver at Burien Honda six thumbs up—both of mine and all four of the babies’.
Of course, you might come home with a minivan.
