Pearl and Husband's pick-up (which claim the driveway), parked vehicles include three Tauruses, Grandma's mini-van (which lives at our house now that she's in assisted living), and the 1991 Blazer that was Boy#1's car during high school and now is the in-town loaner for anyone who needs it.
For his first few years of college Boy#4 decided he'd rather not have the expense and inconvenience of trying to park at a major university; he had brothers at the same school, and they were amenable to letting him borrow their vehicles for the occasional WalMart run. Last summer, though, he decided it was time to look for a car.
"Fine," Husband and I said. "We'll check out the Taurus pipeline." This made complete sense to us, given that the Taurus happened to have been the model we had found for the first three offspring and the three Fords had been reliable, albeit stodgy, choices.
"No, I don't want a Taurus," Four informed us. "I want a Mustang."
Ahem. No, not happening (all that horsepower has to go somewhere, and that includes to our insurance rates) but we were willing to expand the selection of possibilities to almost any non-sports-car model that fell within his admittedly low price point.
So we spent the summer perusing ads, and passed several days in nearby Big City test driving trade-ins and chugging McDonald's drinks while we scoured the latest website listings. (Or, as you see in the photo, that's what Husband and Four did; I was having an iced coffee and reading a novel in the adjoining booth.)
Anyway, after coming thiiiiiis close to buying a spiffy and sporty model, Four's feet got chilly and he decided to wait until Christmas to take advantage of year-end sales.
So we spent the Christmas break perusing ads and our persistence paid off. A used Escape at just exactly the right price point appeared on the lot of a local dealer, and we took it for a drive with me in the back seat making oooh-ing noises and pointing out how much I loved Pearl and wouldn't it be cool that her cousin will be in the family now? and gosh, this is PERFECT!
And it would have been perfect, except that it turns out an Escape is a girl car.
I will leave that paragraph as a single, mind-boggling sentence, because....what? I mean, I know it's not a Mustang, but except for the fact that your mother drives one, what is so anti-masculine about....oh.
It will not surprise you to learn that Boy#4 is leaving for Big University on the train this weekend.