RIP, Nerdmobile!

Several years ago, in a postpartum delirium, I convinced Richie to trade in my (our) beloved Isuzu Rodeo for a Ford Windstar. Richie begged me, implored me not to get a minivan. He offered to buy me a Yukon, a Tahoe, an Expedition. But I was resolute--it had to be a minivan. It's a decision that I regretted a month after the purchase when Richie took the Windstar to the IP Classic and brought it home keyed. A month after that, Easter weekend, I drove the blasted thing to Wal-Mart and returned to find that someone had driven into the passenger side. The final nail in the coffin, though, was late at night while I was driving home. I was sitting at a red light, and it suddenly hit me--I was 25 years old, and drove a minivan, even though all I had to transport was one infant. Richie took Trey to school in his truck. That was the night I christened it the Nerdmobile.

The misfortunes that plagued the Nerdmobile were countless. We had to replace the transmission. I've had more flat tires than I care to mention, and I soon realized that I wasn't comfortable driving such a bulky vehicle, and began to rack up a few dings and dents. Slowly, it really began to earn the nickname I had given it. Lights began to turn on and off arbitrarily on the console. I was heavily displeased with that vehicle, but I was determined to keep it, no matter how much I hated it, because it was me who had lobbied Richie so hard for it. I was going to drive that thing until we paid it off, or the wheels fell off, which ever happened first.

Tuesday November 13, the wheels fell off sooner than I had expected. After my lunch, I cranked the Windstar up, and the odometer was nothing but dashes. The air conditioning blew nothing but hot air, and as I made my way down the road, I noticed that my speedometer was stuck on zero. I had hit a high frenzy by the time I got back to the office, and Richie threw up his hands and said he'd had enough of that vehicle. He got on the phone, and after work, we took the Nerdmobile to Moncks Corner. At ten pm, a cute little Grand Vitara was sitting in my driveway.

Y'all, it's so cute. It's white, and not bulky, and the cruise control works, and it's got a built-in CD player. It's sporty and has plenty of room in the back. It's small enough for me to handle, but roomy enough to be a family car for all four of us when Trey comes home to visit. It reminds me of my (our) Rodeo, and is beyond fun to drive. Not too much fun, though! I don't want any tickets. Sure, I couldn't remember how to turn the windshield wipers on Thursday morning, and I lost it in the Wal-Mart parking lot because I forgot that I didn't have a big honking minivan anymore. As I told Richie the other day, I feel like a person again.

So if you see a happy, smiling woman behind the wheel of a White Grand Vitara, wave--it's me!