Friday, July 01, 2005

The Car I Want

I’m having a mid-life crisis. I’ve never been particularly hip. I’m not really into designer brands. I’m not even particularly fussed by the music I listen to or the clothes I wear. But I’m buggered if I’m driving an estate car.

This is the latest wheeze from the Mrs. We’ve been putting money into a savings plan for ten years and it matures in November this year. I agreed ages ago that we’d use this money to get a new car and I’m really looking forward to it. Or I was. Until the Mrs pointed out that it would be really sensible of we got an estate car and did I mind if she went out to test drive a couple next week. She’s thinking a Mondeo maybe. And she saw a Skoda Octavia the other day and was surprised that she quite liked the look of that. Perhaps she’d try that too.

Ye Gods, has it come to this?

She has a point, I suppose. We go away a lot and with two children under the age of two, it would be great to be able to bung everything in a boot the size of Mars.

At the moment we have a family car with four doors, a big boot and a roof box. It’s regularly packed to the gunnels at the weekends and after twenty two months of packing for babies, I’ve got squeezing everything in down to a fine art. Admittedly it takes, on a good day, the best part of an hour to get it all in. But the satisfaction getting so much stuff in so little space is one of life’s small pleasures, like I imagine it must feel completing a Times crossword or one of those omnipresent sudoku grids.

Then there’s just the small challenge of posting Jack and Nancy in through the entry holes I’ve left between the piles of toys, wetwipes, bottles and sterilisers; shutting the passenger door on the Mrs before the nappies, bowls, food bags and books fall out; and pulling away from the drive, the flat suspension creaking under the massive load.

It’s not that I want anything fancy. I know I’ve got responsibilities. I’m not after a Porsche Boxter or a Lotus Elise. Not yet anyway. I just don’t want an estate car. It’s so square, so middle aged, so… dad.

Like singing in public, like the sick badge on my shoulder, like making goo goo phonecalls in the office, I guess this is just another thing I’ll have to embrace with a father’s pride. I’ll learn to love my sleek, new, long, hard-to-park, petrol-guzzling, deeply dull estate car.

I’m not convinced it’s going to work.

Still, it could be worse. At least she doesn’t want a Chelsea tractor.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

There is nothing wrong with driving an Estate car! Not even a Skoda (my car of choice actually).

All you do is get a bloody great motorbike to go along with it.

That's what I did - works a dream!

6:32 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

We had an Escort Estate. Absolutely loved it, and great when the kids were little.

Unfortunately for us, the local car thieves loved it as well.

Hope you get a good one!

3:49 pm  

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