Black and white with tread not all over. Tread on the tires alone.
We got new cars.
Two new cars.
His black, mine white — so us.
As I mentioned, after thirteen years, our old red van died. Can we stop for a moment to honor her service? Thirteen years! One hundred twenty-seven thousand miles! Nine states! She toted four kids, two nephews, and all our many, many pets. She saw us through the car seats, the boosters, the far-flung French fries and Cheerios…
She carried everything from posterboard projects to a tiller, and everything too precious to put in a moving truck. She got us through two deployments — and the only non-standard replacement? Her air-conditioning compressor. Oh, she’s a good one.
I’m sure The Mister will bring Kia back to life eventually. It’s fun to tell your kid, as she sits in the van she helped destroy, “One day this will be yours!”
Sassy will have her very own hoopty to tool around in.
Ah, remember your first hoopty?
For us, no hoopties. New cars. Shiny, with weird new car smell and double digits on the odometers.
I got a white car thingy. Crossover thingy. CUV. It’s like a car, but it’s also like an SUV. It’s not a LOOK-OUT-I’M-COMIN-THROUGH-CAUSE-I’M-AN-ASSHOLE SUV, but more of a Mimom-Is-Trying-To-Mimom-With-Panache SUV.
This is my second white car.
Apparently, people who drive white cars are said to be neatniks who prefer to be direct and honest, who are reliable and often handle details.
I read that small women with larger than life personalities like to drive crossovers.
I also read that women in midlife, whose families are dwindling, choose crossovers and SUVs to avoid minivans, but still have room to tote kids and their crap. It wasn’t worded that way, but you know.
I don’t know if these things are true, but um… BINGO?
My criteria for car shopping? So mommer. Color – blue or white, certainly nothing that stands out. Smaller, but — I gotta make sure it can hold two teens, a dog, and a cello, as well as a pile of grocery bags. Then I gotta like the way it feels when I drive it. As with most things, I am not typical and care way too much about the placement and size of my cup holder. Go figure.
My new car is called Blanche.
The Mister got a black car. No thingy about it. He got a sleek, black sedan. He chose his car cause HME has that car and he drove it once and fell in love. I’d forgotten that, but when I asked him if he ever drove HME’s car, his enthusiastic response was, “Yes! I drove it to O’Hare!” I’m surprised he didn’t say, “On Monday, September 5, 2016,” and then tell a story about the weather and what the car wore.
Supposedly, people who drive black cars are perceived as strong and powerful with classic taste. They like to be in control and prefer clean lines. I’m not saying that’s him,
it’s totally him but he does look at home in it. I honestly thought he might sleep in it the first night. He’d taken me to run errands and stayed in his car the entire time. When we got home, he looked so sad, be-beep, leaving his baby in the drive.
I asked him what he was gonna call his car and he was all, “My car.” He decided on Ebony though, because he lives with three females who wouldn’t let it lie.
It’s his first new car since 1991. It’s an event. It’s been a long time coming. You are thrilled for him, of course.
Any new car or old dead car stories? Does color matter to you? What color you drivin?