About a year and a half ago the mister and I decided to buy a new car. (Not, a NEW car, but a new-to-us car.) I was driving a Jeep Cherokee at the time, and wanted something that had a split backseat, so a portion of it could be folded down so Ms. Dog could ride with her head out a window. (I’m a SLAVE to my dog. Up until O was born I just folded the backseat down entirely, so she could wander between windows to her little heart’s content. I felt terrible when O was born and the backseat went up and she got yelled at for even being on the seat next to him. But really, she’s kind of a clumsy large dog. I think my fears of her stepping on him in his car seat were actually pretty well founded. Annnyyyyway.)
We set out to look at Toyota ForeRunners because not only do they have a 60/40 split backseat, they also have a rear window that rolls down. PERFECT! Ms. Dog could be gated in the back, and still have a window. Everyone was happy.
Until we looked at a Toyota Sequoia. Third row! Roll-down rear window! Still room for a stroller with the third row of seats! Not as big as a Suburban, but it would be the perfect compromise between an SUV and a mini-van. Room for another kid! And their friends! And the dog! And maybe a second dog, too! I fell in love, we rationalized it, and home it came.
And then…uh-oh. Is is possible this car is too big? Nooo…and even if it was, there wasn’t much chance I was going to admit it. The mister had kind of pointed out that it was a BIG SUV when we bought it, and had expressed some reservations that it might be TOO BIG. But I had poo-pood him. “No, no. It’s perfect.” Until 6 months into owning it, and I backed into a car while trying to extricate the damn thing from a parking space in a parking garage. (As an aside – I HATE PARKING GARAGES with a passion most people reserve for gangrene, and flesh eating viruses.) Okay, so maybe it is bigger than I thought, but it’s cool, I’ll just have to get better about understanding where the car ends. Except that these curbs just keep jumping out at me. I don’t understand it. I have plenty of room. Until I’m up on the sidewalk.
Mister started teasing me about this. “I guess I can’t let you drive this car anymore can I?” (Please, just ignore the “let.” THAT was greeted with a withering stare and an immediate back-pedal. AHEM.) Yeah, yeah, I don’t like driving the SUV, sue me. And off he drives while preening his feathers.
You know where this is going, right?
One afternoon I step out on to the porch to meet him after he’s returned from the gym. He comes around the car, with O in his arms and says to me, “Come here, I want you to see something.” I walk towards him with a touch of trepidation, what in the world is he going to show me? He’s smiling…it can’t be that bad. “What is it?” I ask. “Just come here,” he says. As I round the back of the SUV I see it. A dent in the bumper. THAT I DIDN’T CAUSE.
“Huh,” I laugh, “What happened?”
“Well,” he says, “I backed into something.”
“Yeah, I can see that. What’d you hit?” I ask.
I’m STILL gloating.