My husband says I change cars like other people change purses.
My first car for my party of one was a black Volkswagen Golf. My dependable little car carried me and my friends to school, work and all the stuff in between. I could fit my whole life into that Golf, and I did, every 12 months or so, moving my clothes and folded futon from apartment to apartment.
Upon the arrival of our first son, I had trouble squeezing my deluxe stroller into the hatch, so I traded my Golf in for an elegant navy blue Audi A4. It had more room, was more adult, I even called it a mom car. My mom really loved it.
But not long after that I had another son. Buckling two heavy weights into their car seats so low to the ground was really straining my back, so I convinced my husband that what I really needed was an SUV. A BMW X5. Still in conservative navy blue, of course, as my hot rodding days were behind me. It was more adult, had more room, a real family car. Even my husband was agreed.
Surprising everyone, especially myself, I had another son around the same time my oldest started school. We discovered that he liked play-dates a lot and everyday he’d ask if he could have a couple of buddies over after school. So after my 5-seater BMW broke his heart repeatedly, I got an 8 seater Honda Pilot (in white) and a hysterectomy.
My life, and my car, is full.