Despite my fear that the ghost of Dave Ramsey would haunt me forever (yes, I know he’s not really dead, but I think he has super powers), I am now the proud owner of a 2010 Ford Fusion. I could go on for hours about how sweet this car is, but I’ll spare you the essay and sum up by saying only that it makes me feel 15 years younger, and I’m not even very old.
Aside from the self-esteem boost that comes from driving a car that does not scream, “I have lots of kids and I’ve given up on ever finding the muffler that fell off a few miles back,” but rather, “I may or may not have kids, but you’ll have to catch me to find out,” my new car offers many enticing amenities.
Among the most desirable is low gas mileage. Part of my Vision Board I created for 2010 was to reduce my footprint on the world, and let’s face it: driving around in a big gas guzzling box was not helping. In my new minimalist phase (smaller house, less stuff, less waste) the smaller and more fuel-efficient car is a must. I won’t lie, though. I am also thoroughly in love with the voice command navigation, the satellite radio, and the sync technology that lets me talk on my iPhone or play my iPod without taking my hands off the wheel. It’s like riding inside my beloved iMac. (that sounds a little dirty, but I think you all know how I feel about my computer)
Now about the size (not being dirty now). I know what you’re thinking: How exactly do you all fit in there? I know this is what you’re thinking because I’ve heard it about 50 times in the last week since we bought the car. Please don’t take this personally if you are one of the many who have asked me this question. It’s a perfectly valid question. But the truth is, we fit just fine. It’s true, we no longer have room to bring 5 toys, 3 snacks, and our kitchen sink (in case we get thirsty) with us every time we need to make the 2 mile trip to the grocery, but that is exactly what I was trying to get away from.
I can only think of one scenario when we will not be glad we traded in our roof-leaking, gas guzzling, rusting, screeching death trap ghetto van for this sleek, safe, 21st century sedan and that is on a long road trip. That’s right folks–we will no longer be able to store our potty chair in the back seat to avoid taking bathroom breaks. And (gasp!) now our kids will have to read books and look out the window (the way we did when I was a kid) instead of sorting through the giant toy box we used to keep in the back of the van on long trips. Maybe they will be okay, though. Maybe it will build character, which I hear is a good thing.
In the meantime, I find myself dressing just a little bit nicer when I leave the house, because I want to look as good as I feel in my new car. I found the “all Sinatra, all the time” station, along with a few other great channels (yes, Playhouse Disney has been programmed into my favorites), and I really enjoy driving now. I love that I have time to think about things I enjoy–like books, the weather, hosting a cookout, planting flowers–instead of constantly thinking about whether or not I will make it to the next destination or if I remembered my AAA card in case of a breakdown. Most importantly, I love that I’ve become me again–a person who is more than just the sum of car seats and french fries strewn around the back seat. And that is something you just can’t measure.