How our cars define us...

[momof2g3b]

I have been walking down memory lane, thinking about the vehicles that have gotten my self and my family from A to B. It is amazing to me how those vehicles really define where we are emotionally, mentally, physically, as well as financially. My first car, the one I bought with my own money, made from the sweat of my own brow, was a 1976 Chevy Impala. I was 30 years old. The cars that my ex and I had before that were all "hand me downs" from his relatives, or solely in his name. After my separation, I needed a car. That was in 1997. The car that materialized, through the unbelievable kindness of friends, was the Chevy Impala. It has 6,000 miles on it. That wasn't a typo. It had been garaged for 4 years, and was driven to town once every 2 weeks by a little old lady who was then in a nursing home. It was in Mint condition, right down to the tires! I paid $1000 for it, and my credit union threw in an extra $500 so I would have money for insurance and gas before the first payment. That car signified INDEPENDENCE. I named it Polly. Loved it. Had it for a year. That peach of a car, that got 10 miles to the gallon, was sold to my ex for $1500, which went toward a 1992 Chevy APV (van). Hey, I was moving up in the world, or so I thought. I moved closer to my mother (out of state) and subsequently lost custody of my 4 children, whom I had bought that car with in mind...room to grow and cart them around. I lost the van when my child support was set at half my income. It had no name, but I liked it well enough. While I waited for it to "disappear," I purchased MO. Moldy Oldy. LOL A 1992 Chevy Cavalier, no bigger than a peanut. 81,000 miles on it, cheap, but reliable. Kids hated it, but it got us around for a few years. It was a low point, but a growing and maturing time. Then I got married again. My husband bought me a car...yes, just for me. I adored it (and him). It was a 1999 Pontiac Bonneville. Dubbed affectionately as Bertha.  Green, with front and back bench seats. It was a time of contentment. I loved that car. Did I say that already? I loved that car.  I got my kids back, and they all fit in it with us.  I was complete.  About ripped my heart out when I traded it for a car I knew DH would love. A Saab 9-3 Viggen (yeah, a sports car of sorts...turbo, could kick the butt of any of the little snotrods in the neighborhood). Hubby loves the car, I had come to enjoy the "status" of the car. I bought it with my own money ~ the biggest purchase I had ever made alone ~ for him (but I drove it mostly). I could say I arrived in a foreign made car. All well and lovely until the adoption of our two little ones. What do I do with the three older kids that seem to always show up to ride along, when I have two humongous car seats taking up the back seat? One of the car seats is so obnoxious that we can't put the front seats back far enough to drive comfortably! So, what do I do? I nag until hubby agrees that we should have a bigger car...no, I say, a VAN. MINIVAN. A MOM MOBILE. So, I handed him the keys of my status object and today I purchased a gently used Pontiac Montana. My youngest son loves the seat way in the back, I love the electric doors and rear air! So I went from Ms. Dependent and Momma to Ms. Independent and distant Momma, to Ms. Broke, to Ms. Loved, to Ms. Thankful and Grateful, to Ms. Momma, again! I guess I have come full circle. Happy travels!