My car, a 2008 Toyota Corolla CE, has seen better days. Now pushing 100,000 miles, it is covered in scrapes and one large dent. I like to think that the dent intimidates other cars. It recently lost a hubcap and the interior has been way more familiar with dogs than it was ever designed to be. With Zoey’s car seat installed in the back, the passenger seat is pushed so far forward that you must be under 5’4″ to even fit. Between Nick, Me, Zoey, Moose, and Thumper, someone is riding in the trunk. It’s time to face it, this car just isn’t working for us anymore.
Finally, the time has come for me to get a new car. Actually, a minivan. My transition into obnoxiously child focused is nearly complete. The search for the perfect minivan has fallen to my husband, not because I can’t or don’t want to shop for my own car, but because car shopping is like the Olympics for the Duquette family. I almost feel sorry for the car salesmen. Nick, creator of spreadsheets that generate color coded graphs, has called and e-mailed at least three car dealerships with polite but persistent demands for the best possible pricing. He’s researched options, figured out the least popular colors (red and white, fyi), and he will stop at nothing to hunt down exactly what we need.
While Nick semi-stalks car salesmen in the hunt for minivan perfection, I’ll be thinking over all the good times I’ve had in my first car. Bombing around UMaine in college, driving through incredibly dangerous storm conditions to get to my student teaching assignments. Listening to my awesome mix cds. (No aux in port for me!) Dents and scrapes and almost 100,000 miles of growing up. Toyota CE, I never named you, but I’ll miss driving you for sure.
So, while I will miss my dented, go anywhere, beater car, I know that soon we’ll actually be able to go places comfortably as a family. But in the mean time, if you see a lady sadly talking to a kind of crappy red car, it just might be me.