Head Towards the Light

Most of today was taken up by driving to Spokane, and endeavor rendered positively enjoyable by a) our lovely new car and b) a Terry Pratchett audiobook.

Our appreciation of the comfort of our car was swiftly eclipsed by our appreciation of her traction, once we hit the east side of the state, because the snow and ice out here does not mess around.  The main roads in Spokane were all plowed, of course, but as we turned into my brother's neighborhood (which seems to be uphill both coming and going so how does that work?) we found ourselves driving on sheets of ice.  But our little goat-mobile took no notice, and kept right on getting us to the places we needed to go.

And now here we are!

and I still don't have a voice

Let's Go

Sometimes things just work out.

vroom vroom

The first time I got pregnant, back in the summer of 2013, Nathan and I realized that we were probably going to have to do something about the Car Situation.  Namely the fact that we were a single-(small)car family with a large and boisterous pit bull, plus a baby on the way- and a propensity for driving out to to the wild to go adventuring, often with quite a bit of gear.  This realization, over 18 months ago, kick-started us into researching just what sort of vehicle we'd want, if we were to get a second one.  And by "us" I mean "Nathan", because in this marriage he is in charge of research, and I am in charge of making sure we can afford whatever it is he's researched.  Partnership, see?  We lost that pregnancy, obviously, but we kept right on looking at cars in the hopes that it might once again become relevant.

We didn't feel any real pressure, which is sort of the ideal circumstances under which to look for a new car- until, that is, I got pregnant again, and then the ante was summarily upped once more.  But again, that didn't pan out... but our desire for a new vehicle stayed piqued because, quite frankly, we realized we were ready for a grown-up car.  That is to say, a car that wouldn't send me into fits of sciatica on long trips, and that we could accelerate onto the freeway with, without sending up a fervent prayer to St. Christopher.  And also butt warmers, because damn technology is amazing, ya'll.

So we looked and we looked, and we agreed that what we'd really want, if only we had the money, was a 2015 Subaru Forester Limited.  Ha ha ha hah.  But we are (occasionally) patient people, and we knew that in a year or two we could probably get said vehicle for the price we were willing to pay.

As all of this was going on, we were also waiting on the outcome of my grandmother's estate, which has been puttering along since 2012.  We weren't depending on the money by any stretch of the imagination, but we did acknowledge that, should it come through, it would certainly make things easier.

And then, last week, it did come through- and literally the next day Nathan found an advertisement for a certified pre-owned 2015 Forester that had every last thing- right down to the color- we had daydreamed about, with only 55 miles on it.  And the asking price?  Almost exactly the amount of the check we'd received.  That's right: a new car for the price of a used car, for the amount my generous grandmother left me.

We took the hint.

The Inability to Unsee

One of the major Plot Points of our move is that I am selling my wonderful car.  I've had my Civic for ten years, and I love her- I love my wonderful car that shuttled me around in the latter half of college, that took my surfboard and I to the coast once a week for two years, and that has carried me back and forth across the entire breadth of the States not just once but three times.  And when I look at my wonderful car, I see her just as I did ten years ago, the day that I purchased her: young and fun and kind of sporty.

But then I decided to sell her (for a variety of Very Sensible Reasons), which necessitated looking at her with an Objective Eye.  And I suddenly realized... she's not that car.  Or, rather, she is, but she's not in the same pristine condition I still saw her in.  She has all these tiny little scratches and dings and dents that I just never noticed before... but now that I've seen them I can't stop seeing them, and it's just horrifying me to realize that anyone might look at my car and see a ten year old vehicle instead of the gorgeous young thing I rolled off the lot in.  None of these things are bad, or really even flaws- it's just sobering to realize that time has not left my car unscathed.

::sigh::

(There's a metaphor for life in there, I just know it...)

But the bright side to this story is that I am selling her to a person who plans to use her for his daughter (turning sixteen soon) and that makes me happy because I think she really will be just an excellent First Car for a teenager.  She may not be "cool" (can a four-door sedan ever be "cool"?) but she's definitely not lame (poor Nathan was driving a minivan in high school), and most importantly can be counted on to get a body from point A to point B (not always a guarantee amongst my friends' cars when we were that age).

So there's that.  By Friday the 4th (the day we head out of here) we will be a one-car household.  It's definitely making our cross-country trip more bearable (I've done this with and without someone to share the drive: believe me when I say with is the preferable scenario), and it will save us a ton on insurance, etc (we're using the proceeds from my car to pay off the last bit of Nathan's- er, our Fit).  Plus let's face it- if you're living in/near Portland, you really don't need more than one car.  A lot of people have expressed horror that we're getting rid of my car ("You mean you're not getting a new one once you're up there?!") but I actually think it makes a lot of sense.  Expect to be kept updated on whether or not I end up eating my own words...



PS The weird thing is that, when I bought my car, I thought I'd have kids by now (hence the whole four-door sedan portion).  I don't, obviously- and that is a situation I am okay with- but it's still a little weird to be confronted with the Assumptions of One's Youth and the Refutations Thereof...