Cars. Again.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago that we were going through the new car process. It was the closest that Shaun and I have ever come to having an argument. It’s easy to forget that I’m married to a salesman… until it’s me he’s selling to. I’m glad I’m not trying to buy a photocopier.

Last time the car was for him. This time it’s for me. The thing that drives me nuts about this process is that the plan changes every single day. He’ll come home with a brochure and run his spiel on me. I’ll be sold. I’ll start to get excited about it. Then he’ll come home and pull the rug out from under my feet.

I love my car. If it wasn’t for the fact that it has bucket seats, which aren’t conducive to strapping in baby capsules, or that its boot isn’t big enough to hold a double buggy, it’d be perfect. As it turns out, even Shaun’s car isn’t going to be big enough. We could get the kids and the buggy in, but that would be it. I wouldn’t even get a nappy bag in there. This was the part of the twins plan that we hadn’t really considered.

I don’t do station wagons, I don’t do vans and I don’t do people movers. That only leaves an SUV. So I’m test driving a few. Ironically, it’ll be considerably cheaper to run than my current car. They also come with heated seats, sun roofs and automatic lights and wipers. Against a life long philosphy, I have also opted for an automatic transmission. I won’t have to do a bloody thing! The thing that excites Shaun about it the most is the reversing sensor. He is dreaming of the day that I have a ding-free car.

So we have made an agreement. I’ll test drive my top three, rank them in order, get trade-in figures for both my car and his, and then we’ll sit down and make a decision.

At this stage my only prerequisite is that it’s black and it has tints.


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