1995: Dated the kindest man I’d ever met. He drove a Ford Festiva, it had no gas gauge nor door locks, both had been stolen, it smelled a little like Hockey Gear. I fell in love
1997: We are given a 1984 Oldsmobile, it has less than 20,000 miles on it, it was his Grandparents car. It has fuzzy blue fabric and bench seats. We are still madly in love.
1999: I’m going need acupuncture if I have to duck into that f**king car one more time to get the baby out of the back seat. Mom! Don’t sell that Explorer just yet, we want it. We need it, my aching back needs it.
Another child is added to the equation.
2001: “Honey”, I want one of these. “I begged”
And my darling husband said, “no”. He went on with a diatribe about how there are no airbags and the kids wouldn’t be safe. I agreed, because we both love our children more than life itself.
2002: “Sweetie, I want a Prius” I begged again. “Too small, the kids won’t be safe in the backseat if a Tahoe comes crashing into them”. Taking into account my miserable driving style, I again deferred to my husband.
2007: Gas prices are skyrocketing and the Prius now has rear airbags. I ask again, he relents. I get on the wait list and and I get a phone call. “Your car is in, you can come sign the papers Monday and pick it up.” (remember the Prius wait lists?) Monday morning, I’m really excited, drop the kids off at school and the phone rings.
“Honey, I just got in a really bad accident, my car was T-Boned and I’m not hurt but you have to come and get me.” It was my husband. His massive 5 Series BMW was missing it’s front end. The driver of the other car (who had blown through a red light at 40 miles per hour) had been taken to the hospital. Her car hadn’t protected her nearly as well.
A decision was made, our children would not ride in compact cars. We both got BMW’s because the safety rating from the IIHS was the best. We made a conscious decision to leave a big carbon footprint because we were terrified and we love our children. ‘Nuff said.
2008: “Honey, what ‘cha think about that big old Mercedes?” I asked, “Do you think that big hunk of metal would keep the kids safe? How cool would it be to not need gas?”
The conditions he’s set forth are as such:
- He won’t filter the oil for me
- He won’t come get me if the car breaks down
- He reserves the right to tease me (relentlessly) particularly if the car smells like curry
- I am not allowed to borrow his car if I want to look a little snazzy
- I am not to complain to him about the car. Ever.
Now we’ve got a case of Be Careful What You Wish For. The kids and I are really excited by the prospect getting a Grease Car, but a little bit scared too.
What would you do? There are some great new cars coming on the market in 2010…
[This post was written by Jessica Gottlieb.]