24 July 2009

my life in cars
(otherwise known as "i deal with pride")~



You know where this is going, right? Ten points to anyone who can make an accurate prediction before reading the post. Leave me a comment if you do, I'll trust you :o) No fair to anyone who is a facebook frien
d. And if you're reading this on facebook, you may have to go over to the blog to see the photos. Not sure.

As long as I can remember I've had this weird obsession with cars. They've always been a big deal for whatever reason. As early as preschool I remember my Dad driving us around in his huge brown jeep with roll bars. Sometimes he'd let us ride in the back and I distinctly remember him taking me to preschool and driving up on the sidewalk saying "Look! No hands!" Because my Dad was always fun like that :o)


I remember being horribly embarassed when my parents would pick us up in this ridiculously long white car from The Private School we went to. It might have been a perfectly normal car for all I know, I just remember being embarassed.


I remember my friend Heather's family had a super cool minivan, complete with the wood paneling down the side. You know, back when minivans were fairly new. It was the old boxy style and I actually got to Ride. In. It. when I went to Gulf Shores with their family.

Around this same time, my Dad bought what I thought was a pretty cool blue Station Wagon. Even if he did get it from his work and it had previously been used to haul raw fish around. Don't ask me how we could tell that's what it had been used for. But pretty much anyone who had the privilege to ride around with us could figure it out. I remember traveling all the way to the Florida keys in it with my middle sister and cousin. We had a whole cabbage patch land set up, and I read the entire book of Esther all the way through in the back corner. I was five, and I was surely impressed with myself.


When I was in Junior High, at the same Private School, I was ecstatic when my parents bought a white Chevy Lumina, you know, the ones that looked like a spaceship. It didn't matter at all that the girl I absolutely couldn't stand also had one. That only meant that I was on par with the Private School Kids.

It was a great van. Until I totalled it in the Very Big Accident. After that my parents bought a gigantic customized Astro that I literally had to sit on phonebooks to drive.







My very first car that I purchased was a 78(?) Ford Fairmont I bought from a friend for $300. I was ecstatic. The school I went to my junior year was very alternative, very grunge. I was coming out of my rebell
ious phase having picked up quite a few telltale signs of having gone through it such as kool-aid dyed red hair and confiscating all my formerly hippy parents' old clothing. I was pretty cool, or so I thought, and this car was the icing on the cake. Nevermind that I let the engine burn up after only driving it a handful of times. But I thought I was cool.




After my Fairmont mishap, my loving Dad had it towed to a nearby dealership and somehow managed to convince them it was worth something (or maybe he actually paid them to take it, who knows) and bought me a slightly used Corsica. It was lovely and dependable. It was also now my job to cart my sisters around town and myself to work, school, and everywhere else. And believe me, I went everywhere else. The Corsica is what I drove the entire time Glen and I were dating. Good times. Upon my engagement at the ripe old age of 16 and a half, he offered to give it to us as a wedding gift if we would consider getting involved with Amway.




Hence my next car, a 94ish gold Honda Accord. Be not deceived by the photo. I was so eager to find a car that Glen and I could call our very own, that I overlooked one minor flaw when buying it from the barely-speaking- English guy who "had at least six other interested buyers." We test drove it at night during the cooler days of Spring and upon Glen inquiring of me if the air worked, I assured him it most definitely did. *sigh*
Isn't it fun remembering those early days of marriage when all you really needed was love? Oh, and I should have mentioned that it was a stick which was truly an experience learning to drive. And great fun to drive on our honeymoon, during a really hot weekend in June, and all through the sweltering summer. In traffic.
To work. Forty-five minutes away.





Fast forward eight months. In a move to pacify his newly pregnant (read: hormonal) seventeen year old wife, Glen graciously agrees to buy me a fabulous Infiniti G20 that a friend of my Dad's was selling. This was after I nagged begged him relentlessly, finally in tears because the girl I worked with
drove a Lexus. I mean seriously, I couldn't really be expected to drive around a baby in the sweltering summer in the "sure the air works" Honda. Feel free to roll your eyes now.





I'm not sure what possessed me to think I didn't want the Infiniti anymore. It was a fabulous car. All I can claim is SUV fever. Anna was a baby, maybe I thought it was safer, but probably I just thought it was cool. The only thing in our price range was a 94 Ford Explorer that was teal with pretty significant hail damage. But hey, it had the Eddie Bauer package.. I did love that car, though. Hail damage and all. Even after I was rear ended and instead of having it repaired used the money to pay for Ethan's birth. I had always wanted an SUV. But trading the Infiniti? What was I thinking???? And thankfully, my Dad didn't disown us for buying a Ford.




For some reason, after Caleb was born. We decided we needed to have a minivan. So we bought a green Chevy Venture that we kept for all of three months before we decided our paid for Explorer was a perfectly good vehicle. We paid a stupid tax of $1000, a 'la Dave Ramsey, to sell it, though.





We kept the Explorer for a long time. Selling it during The Great Sickness that found our entire family on the living room floor puking our guts out and watching The Iron Giant and The Fox and the Hound over and over and over and over. But we'd been trying to sell it for awhile, and seeing as how there wasn't a huge market for teal cars with hail damge, even though it was an SUV, we dragged ourselves out of the house and sold it to someone in an Exxon parking lot. We had grown into a Three Children In Car Seats family, so the switch to a minivan was justified this time around. We found a good deal on a Town & Country. Soon after getting it, I was rear ended yet again, and seeing as how this time we used the repair money to pay for Moriah's birth, I drove around with a dented in rear bumper for awhile. Funny how in my quest to drive something that I deemed "cool" at the time, I was willing to put up with less than perfection. So at least I'm not a total snob.




Soon after we moved to The Country, the Town & Country began having some serious problems. I don't even remember what we did with it, but we bought a Ford Expedition. Because I had always wanted an Expedition. It was super cool, but we soon discovered that getting Four Kids In Car Seats and having storage room for All Their Stuff, didn't go so well with the very backseat being needed for carseats, but leaving zero storage space. So we traded it. For a Honda Odyssey.



(read this next section with your voice dripping with sarcasm) A Honda Odyssey was next on the list of cars I thought were cool (not yet being able to justify a Suburban which had always been my ultimate dream car.) But once again, budget constraints prevented me from getting one that was as nice as I really wanted, so I had to settle for cloth seats and (gasp!) black handles that told the world I, in fact, did not have The Really Nice Odyssey.





We kept the Odyssey, which I grew to love, black handles and all, until close to Noah's birth. Five Kids In Car Seats made a minivan a pretty tight squeeze, so we found a good deal on finally, a Suburban. With leather. And heated seats. And a TV. *sigh* This was the stage of life in which I remember having several conversations with friends about if we would, in fact, have enough children to outgrow it. A seventh child was The Line. What would we do? Obviously, the car I drove shouldn't (and wasn't) the deciding factor for if we had more children. But oh, how I loved my Suburban.



I tried to keep it. I really did. I could fit All The Kids in it as long as Glen wasn't with us, and when we needed to go somewhere together we could use his 15 passenger work van. But like I said. It's his work van, he really needs the space for work. And is has over two hundred thousand miles which is fine for around town, but not so much for long trips. Like camping when pregnant as soon as I'm off bedrest, camping while pregnant and due in a month, camping with a five week old, camping with a two month old, camping with a three month old. You get the picture.

So yes. I crossed The Line. Why not a simple 12 passenger you ask? Well, because when you take out the very back seat to allow for storage space, the seating is the same as the Suburban. Hence, I am now a 15 Passenger Van Mom. Doesn't quite have the same ring as minivan mom or Suburban mom or soccer mom, does it? Ahem.

Happy Saturday :o)


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3 comments:

Heather said...

Too funny.

You really like my mom's van? It was a step up from the baby blue woody hatchback--I hated that thing!

And I seriously had no idea you'd had SO MANY cars. I'm only on #3, and all have been 2 doors. I did move from a convertible to a sun roof to just a coupe. It's a good thing Avery is little, or getting her in and out of the mustang would be awful.

Dana Maize said...

You are such a crack up! My sisters and I would duck down and hide when our parents drove us through town in our big white boat of a Mercury. My dad's a mechanic. It lasted a long time.

A Mama in Seventh Heaven said...

Hi, just reading through your blog and had to comment on this one....we were in the exact position..hence we are the proud owners of a 15 passenger van too. We took out the back row and have ample space for storage...except sometimes after grocery shopping...but that's a 'nother story!!lol

"How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about arithmetic, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness." ~GK Chesterton

2012 November

2012 November