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When I drop off and pick up Michael from school, we get in a snake that is the line that weaves through the parking lot to get traffic off the main thoroughfare at the school’s entrance.  As we eek along in two lines like a slow sink drain clogged up with make-up, it gets even more thick as the two lanes merge into one.  At the merging point it is almost an unspoken rule that we switch off—one car from the right lane goes, then one from the left, and so on and so forth.  Just about everyone is courteous and honors it, but occasionally it will be (obviously) one car’s turn, and the person driving along in the adjacent lane will (appear) to try to muscle ahead.  I’m not sure what is going on in their head, but it seems more likely to be competition and self-importance than simply being oblivious to the other driver.   I could swear I hear revving engines challenging me when I am in this situation.  I believe in being fair and polite, but don’t even try to sneak in front of me if it’s my turn to merge—YOU WANNA PLAY CHICKEN?!!!!  I win every time, but not because I am as cool as James Dean, probably more because the other driver is just trying to see what they can get away with, and when they realize they can’t, their conscience kicks in.

The other thing about car line that keeps me amused for 15 minutes is looking at everyone else’s cars and wondering why they chose the car they’re driving.  Of course the luxury cars like Mercedes and BMW’s are a dime a dozen and very status-y.  Then there are gobs of SUV’s and Mini-Vans‘s for the obvious reasons—good gas mileage.  I’m a sedan girl, and no, I don’t have the luxury of owning the four-door Maserati  that I’m always coveting when I see it in the car line.  Wow!  What a stunning car, and there’s no poor man’s version it! 

I lease my car, while my husband is driving his truck for 11 years now.  It’s in beautiful shape with low mileage, at least.  I know that leasing is maybe not the most sensible use of money—but that’s the least of my fiscal naughtiness.  Besides—who really get’s ahead with cars—especially the dork that tries to sneak in front of me in the car line? 

I like a car with a lot of bells and whistles, so to get that, I lease a mid-range sedan and max out the details.  Greg and I have discussed the possibility of maybe doing a SUV at some point, but I really don’t want the lousy gas mileage, and if I do a crossover, there isn’t much benefit over and above a sedan, especially when we already have a truck to haul stuff.  I would want one that seat’s seven, but they come with a pretty big price tag on the lot as well as at the gas station. 

So now that I have given my arguments against an SUV for my next lease, the next argument will be against a mini-van.  Okay, I apologize ahead of time to everyone who love’s their mini-van.  I know they are extremely convenient and can be very luxurious, but I just can’t do it.  I can’t.  Isn’t it enough that I am a mom, a chubby middle-america, reader’s digest mom?  I simply can’t hammer that last nail in the coffin of my “cool” identity.  I’ve got have just a teeny-tiny bit of edge—I’m not silly, I know it’s still a sedan, and a Nissan, but it’s macked out with the sport engine and all the other details that make it say “fun ride” instead of “Mom”  Wah..Wah..Waahh..Waaahhhh……

Greg tried to tell me he would be happy to drive this phantom mini-van he thinks we should have.  First of all, and most importantly, what am I going to drive?  Second of all—Ewwww!  Could he be sexier?  Grrrrr…handsome middle aged man, hair showing only the slightest evidence of gray, tall and strapping, getting into of a mini-van.  Not good….not gooooodddd….The vision is horrifying enough, then he actually has to act like it might be cool.  I can feel my libido evaporating as I type.  Nothing says “hot” like a guy driving a minivan by choice—I mean nothing says “broken spirit, I give up” like a guy driving a mini-van.  NOT HAPPENING!!!  Next thing I know he’ll be putting flip-flop stickers on it to represent each family member.