The car shopping is sort of fun. I love cars more than a little. I love big rumbly engines, I love revving a car engine and feeling it move under me. I love taking a turn so fast that the car turns sideways just a little, but rights itself to speed up again.
I love talking torque.
I also love the planet, as does my daughter. I’m buying a hybrid because Jane is making me. My Mom has two hybrids, they love them. My Dad has two hybrids, he is looking for a 10 cylinder. I’m so totally my dad’s kid. I want to want a hybrid, but really, deep down… all I want is a fast car, preferably with rear wheel drive and an engine that roars at me.
My husband is a Saint. Not really a Great Saint, you know, the kind that lets you have chickens. My husband is the kind of Saint that lets me spend whatever I want on whatever kind of car I want, whenever I want it. So I’ve test driven everything from Hyundai to Porsche, Ford to Cadillac and everything in between.
I’m going to buy the car that ensures my children the best future I can. I’m going to buy a hybrid, because it will pollute less. I’m going to buy a car instead of leasing it, because (as my daughter points out) we don’t keep our cars long enough. I’m not going for the hybrid I’d really like best, because it’s not good for the planet, and the planet belongs to my children. I’ll be buying a midsize hybrid with great safety ratings, because I love my children, and because it’s the right thing to do.
Excuse me if I’m not jumping for joy.