trading down

O how the coming of our new son Cohen has brought about much:  The name of my father and his father will now survive another generation (presumably); our house has completed its metamorphosis from post-college pad to full family domicile; we get another break on taxes; things of this nature.  One Cohen-induced change that makes a good writing topic: the great vehicle exchange.  Mmm-hmmm, I’ve been handed-down Sharaun’s Saturn while she’s upgraded to the new Acadia.

I knew this was coming; I mean it’s the reason we bought a vehicle as big as the Acadia to begin with (all good American consumers know the rule of doubling, which dictates that a family of four needs a car which can comfortably seat eight and that if you want three pancakes you should order six, among other things).  I’ve written bits here and bits there about my sadness at being bumped from the Acadia, with all its modern conveniences, and the tiny things about the Saturn that turned me off.  But I’m here to say that I’ve embraced my new primary vehicle, and am, in fact, quite happy with our new arrangements (remember that post where I picked on just what it means to have something “grow on you?,” it was in the context of music & beer… but still).  OK so I did a little work to the car to get it more firmly into my good graces…

  • I had the cracked windshield replaced.
  • I ordered and installed a new stereo.  One with built-in Bluetooth for both wireless stereo music and phone, and USB and AUX-in on the front, and all sorts of other bells and whistles.
  • I fixed the busted running light and left blinker.
  • I replaced the missing interior panel down by the gas pedal; it’d been in the trunk for years.
  • I cleaned the thing of all Sharaun’s detritus and took the car in for a white-glove interior detailing.
  • I dropped her off for an overall 90k service and tuneup, just to be sure.

Oh boy guys… not only did all this get the vehicle in tip-top shape and make it a lot more appealing to me (OK so all I really cared about was getting my music on the speakers over Bluetooth), it also saw Sharaun (not entirely surprisingly) asking “why?”  Why did I soup up the car and get all the broken stuff fixed only when it became my car?  Yeah… good question.  Sure she’s been asking me to replace that burned-out blinker for about three years now (I’m not exaggerating) and sure that interior panel took all of ten seconds to re-attach… I won’t deny those things…

Uh-oh blog, I don’t really see a way out of this one…

At least I’m still the bigger man for diving into my newly downsized wheels with relish?  No?  Still the heel who only fixed his wife’s car when it became his car?  OK then.


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