Last night, I got my new car! And it’s my dream car. What, you mean I got my SUV that runs on personal methane and hope? Hardly.
What I am now the proud owner of is a 2002 Ford Focus Wagon. Yes, folks, I have a station wagon again! It’s lovely silver (adorably matching M’s car) and has merely 60k miles on it. What’s also really cool is that it has the slightly bigger and more powerful so it can haul the extra weight of the wagon’s end.
My father in law found it from an insurance auction, needing a new bumper and door. He loves projects like these, and by the time he was through with it, I swear the new car smell had returned! It’s practically pristine, so much so that I almost feel better leaving it in the garage. Bless his heart for all the work he’s done for us on this. I owe him a great deal of wood chopping and hauling work this year.
And man oh man… this thing is quiet. And fast. And smooth as can be. It just floats down the road. The boy and I can converse without shouting over barely-working heaters and the loud banging of doubly dead suspension. It just floats down the road. Now I don’t have to blast the stereo to hear the guilt-trip of public radio’s pledge week.
Really, best of all, is that I don’t have to worry about the car. I know it runs, and runs well. It’s clean and reliable and gets nearly 30 miles to the gallon. I can carry people and things without warning them ahead of time. Peace of mind is ridiculously valuable, especially once you’re a parent. I have enough to worry about every moment of every day.
Oh, and it has cup holders!
(Rest assured, I’ll post up pictures later this week. And for those who know me, The Cheat is safely adhered to the left rear window, where he belongs.)