My 2005 car recently died, and Hubby and I went looking for a new one. At my age with my children mostly grown, I was excited to be able to buy a “real” car rather than have to traipse around town in a mini-van again. At the used car lot, I spotted a convertible Toyota Camry on the far end of the lot and practically sprinted to its side. Red. Convertible. Somewhat like my first car. A happy and carefree time. Whoopee! It was perfect!

It was at that point that the notion struck me about people and their cars. Hubby, electrician that he is, drives a truck. Because electricians and workmen tend to have families, the truck had a 4-passenger cab. It killed two birds with one stone; a sturdy work truck during the day with enough room to transport the family out to dinner in the evening. My son, Steven, who works with an auto mechanic, drives Hubby’s rusty, old white work van with just one extra seat, needed for his 3-year-old daughter when he wasn’t working. My daughter, Dinora, celebrated her graduation from business school by purchasing a brand new, shiny Cadillac. What an awesome symbol of success! Son Angel jumped the gun a little when he graduated from high school and purchased himself an SUV so sturdy that it reminds me of a Humvee. I had to drive it the other day and it felt so safe, like the doors were made of steel and the shaded windows bullet-proof. It felt like it could plow through or over anything. (With all of Angel’s psychological idiosyncrasies, it is the perfect, safe cocoon.) My son, Francis, who lives in California, rides in a multitude of cars daily as his transportation via Uber is funded by his company. They all suit him just fine because he can’t see them anyway!

So, there I was, ogling the bright red Toyota with the convertible roof. Hubby, on the other hand, was more interested in an SUV that could tow our boat to New Hampshire in the summer and tow his snowmobiles in the winter. “It is perfect,” he gushed at a nearby golden color monstrosity. I looked at him with my sad, puppy dog eyes and he agreed to consider and test drive the Toyota. We buckled in and away we went, bouncing and swaying along the road. What a great car, but what a bumpy ride! That was okay, though, I would enjoy the tumultuous ride just to get the car of my youth. I reciprocally agreed to ride in the SUV. It was just what I didn’t want, suitable for eight passengers. I no longer wanted that much company when I drove anymore. But in I slid onto the front seat. It was glorious! Plush, comfy, and the piece de resistance was the warmth that emanated upwards when I sat. It might be freezing outside while waiting for the car to heat up, but at least I would have a warm butt. As we test-drove the car, it was like I was immersed in the stereo, ceremoniously playing a favorite song. There were four cup holders and a sunroof! The ride was so smooth it was like we were gliding on ice. If I didn’t look back at the stretch of car behind me, it was a very enjoyable ride.

And so it is, eyes forward, that I drive my new (old) SUV. I put on my sunglasses, open the sunroof and my hair blows in the wind as it did when I was a teen. But the comfortable ride and cushy seat makes it the perfect car for me now. Just like the Three Little Pigs house of bricks, this car is just right!