Or at least you can't get one unless you're the guys on Top Gear and you saw the top off of a minivan (or a "people carrier," as they call it). And although the effort is admirable (and the episode linked there is brilliant), that's not so much the look I'm going for.
So today we bought a Subaru. It was love at first drive.
When we went to the dealership over the weekend to test it out, I came armed with two high-back boosters and one regular booster seat. The salesman looked at me like I had three heads instead of three seats, but I was determined to know whether or not they would fit.
A little snug, but it totally worked. Then Junius proved that having the extra booster seat wedged into the middle wouldn't interfere with his comfort by promptly falling asleep during the test drive. Seriously, he just turns his head to the side and starts snoring.
Four days and several emails later, we were back at the dealership to trade in our Honda Accord and bring home the new car.
This exchange marked the end of an era -- a decade with a car that saw us from newlyweds to new parents and beyond. It was the first big purchase my husband and I made together, then the first ride to bring home each of our days-old children. It saw us through interstate travels and tiresome commutes and at least a million trips to the grocery store. We have a lot of great memories tied up in that old car.
But still, who could have predicted this?
That's Pippi trying to be brave while completely falling apart as I tried to take a photo of her and Junius in front of the old car.
And that's Pippi sobbing on her daddy's shoulder while we wait on the paperwork. She cried for the better part of 20 minutes, only stopping to tell us that she wanted to keep the Honda until we died. (She's also wearing a turtleneck on an 85-degree day, but that's fodder for a different blog.)
It's hard to explain to a four-year-old that it's a good thing when we out-live our cars.
Junius managed to hold it together until we were pulling away in the new car. He teared up, looking over his shoulder as we left the Honda behind in the parking lot. Thanks to some Rock-O-Matic on the fabulous new stereo, he found his smile until bedtime, when more crying over the long-lost Honda ensued.
Who knows why they're suddenly so attached to a car that was slowly but surely falling apart from more than 137,000 miles worth of serious use -- maybe they're soft-hearted, nostalgic people or maybe they never realized that getting a new car meant giving up the old one. Maybe they just don't like change, even when it involves an upgrade. I really don't know.
What I do know is that, even though it's not a convertible, I'm going to love driving this Subaru.
Share your story... What car do you still remember saying good-bye to? Or how did your kids react when you bought a new family car?