Ballet of Cars

Get a pad of paper, you might need to draw a few diagrams to get through this.

We were a three car family.  A little over a year ago our Maxima was totaled.  Instead of getting a new car, The Husband was happy for a while with his little mini van.  But not for very long.  He came across a $300 wreck and with a few dollars (like a lot) he fixed it up.  I hated it.

Remember the cash for clunkers last summer?  It was a killer deal and he saw another Maxima.  A very pretty Maxima.  He sacrificed his minivan for the deal and suddenly the fixer-upper sat unused.

Enter Amanda's car.

It was previously owned by my grandmother.  Grandma admitted when she could no longer drive and allowed my mom to sell it to Amanda.  That was nearly five years ago and it was over ten years old back then.  It was in pristine condition and still smelled like my grandpa's cologne.  It's no longer in pristine condition.  In fact, it's on it's last leg.  But it still smelled like Grandpa.

We struck a deal with Amanda to buy/take our fixer-upper and park Grandma's car.

Enter Keith's car.

He had bought it from his old girlfriend and decided he needed something new and sold it to his new girlfriend (ex and current are friends so I guess it's cool, I don't ask).  He bought a van dug up by his father.  Basically it's a piece of crap.  He needs something else.  Hey, maybe with a few dollars he can fix up Amanda's old car.  He towed it to the shop and it NEVER STARTS EVER AGAIN.

Guess that sale is a dud.  We decide to donate the dead car to charity.  Keith is still looking for a car.

Amanda's new car needs brakes.  But we swear we had brakes put on it during the summertime overhaul, so we need to get it to the shop that did the repairs.  But the shop is out in the boonies and the girl with a part-time job, an internship, a full load of classes and trying to graduate in May oddly enough doesn't have any time to take care of this.  Oh but wait, Keith happens to be doing a little side work for us very close to this auto shop out in the boondocks, maybe he can grab Amanda's car for the day, get it checked out and return it to her?  Nope, she would be stranded without a car.

hmmmmm....

On Saturday, Amanda and I attend a planning meeting for a fundraiser (happens to be 2 weeks before she graduates, like she has time for this crap), hey follow me home, pick up our other car and we'll run this one to the shop.

Now, how to get the car back to her?

I swear a million phone messages back and forth between me, the husband, Keith, and Amanda trying to orchestrate this damn car.  She came and picked it up this evening.

On top of all that, I sent The Husband out with Keith to talk to car dealers today.  I know he has a strange effect with people and lo and behold he has managed to schmooze pre-approval with a legitimate dealership.  Now it's just up to Keith to realize that he has a sweet deal sitting in front of him.

***I held off posting this, not wanting to jinx the deal***

MY SON IS THE PROUD OWNER OF A NEW 2010 CAR!!!!!  OMG!!!

But the dance continues.  The car has a recall issue and won't be ready until today.  SOOOOOooooo... The Husband got the dealership to give him a loaner - a new Impala!

Moral of the story: adult-sized children and their vehicles are truly a pain in the ass!  (Mom, I am sooo sorry)

The Car Conversation

WOE!

"Mom, what car can I have when I start driving?"
"Mom, can I drive?"
NO!  You're TWELVE!
"Mom, when I get a car it's going to be..." blah blah blah blah

There's something in the water that mandates seventh graders begin the car quest.  They fantasize about sitting behind the wheel of a sleek sports car, cruising down curving roads, wind mysteriously whisking through their hair.... yeah whatever.  Dream on baby.

I've been down this road before, twice to be exact.  I know that for the next four years conversations are going to pop up at random times about dream cars and the constant quest to take the car for a spin.  As passengers they will critique passing cars, outlining desirable qualities.  The car conversation is never complete.  It is a wishlist that drones on and on with rude interruptions from parents reminding to finish homework, eat dinner, take showers and go to sleep, only to start up the next day.  And the following day.  And the day after that.

While I won't let anyone drive until at least a driver's permit is earned, I will allow certain pesky children take the keys and start my car.  Little do they realize they're being used.  Who else but a car crazy child would be willing to venture out in the freezing cold morning just for the "glory" to start the car?  It's a quick way to kick a pacing kid out of the house while you're still getting ready. 

Besides starting the car, they can set the radio, pump it up to deafening tones and imagine for three minutes that they are, in fact, winding the car down a twisting road with the air rushing through their hair - swoosh swoosh - until I finally manage to haul my ass out of the house.  A quick scramble to turn down the radio, get out of the driver's seat and into the back, and the "driver" is a child again, left to critique passing cars.

Maybe it's that his feet are finally able to reach the pedals?  Hard to say.  But this is the age that the car conversation begins and it doesn't stop until the novelty of being a new driver finally wears off... oh somewhere around seventeen.

If you're good at math that means it's been three years since my last child finally quit yammering on about getting a car, driving a car, dreaming about a car.  Three years.  That is a short ass reprieve considering there are eight years between middle and youngest child.  Such is life.