Everytime we travel we rent a minivan. And we love it. I know I've written about this before, but I love me a rented minivan. Two words: cup holders. Too bad they're so frickin' ugly. It's like driving a brick of cheese down the freeway. Swear ta gawd it's the only thing holding us back from getting one. That and we can never remember the name of the car we're driving. What kind of car did we drive this weekend? A Chrys--? A Ponti--? I dunno. A minivan.
Was a time in our lives when cars were important to us. I like to call those times the Stupid Nineties, when J. and I had kick-ass dotbomb jobs, no kids, and plenty of disposable income which we enjoyed disposing on martinis and restaurant dinners with friends that started at 10PM. J. had Sven, his sweet Saab (the car for "intellectuals"), and I had Mochi, my beloved Cabrio (the car for "girls,") followed up by Stella, my new Beetle (the car for "girls with jobs") which I got the second my Cabrio lease was up.
Then the 90's were over.
Then we had kids.
Then I didn't go back to work.
Then we decided that—pfftt—we weren't what we drove. We were "above that" on a budget.
Now we drive an 11 year old SUV ("Olive") which we bought two years ago for cash for hauling my garage sale treasures shit around. She runs great and has served us well. Have to admit, it's nice not having a car payment. But, soon, it will be time to get a new car, and I'll say it, I'd serve my kids beans and rice at every meal to drive one of these. (I will have it. I will have it. I will have an R-Class.) If I put my intention out into the universe, won't it come back to me?)
But, look at it! It's a sexy minivan! It's what the that fancy Nissan minivan should look like, but totally misses the mark. What is it? The Quest? It's all swoopy like the R-Class, but it's not sleek at all. It looks like a swoopy brick of cheese.
The practical, safe, comfortable next car to get would be something like a minivan. I just can't go there yet. Or let's say, I could go there if my other car was this. I've always had a place in my heart for VW Golf's. I think of them as the perfect family car: smallish, 4-door, hatch back. The A3 is that, but sportier. Snazzier. Dreams.
But, when I think of safety, I think Mercedes. Doesn't my family deserve to be protected by the finest European safety engineering?
I will have an R-class.
Why am I even bothering to think about cars when my family is 2 months away from being homeless? Can we say "coping mechanism?"
Since we bought our car a little over a year ago...
