Bye-bye car, hello People Wagon!
Last night I was feeling a bit emotional. I’d had a Bad Night followed by a Terrible Day, and when the time came for James to take Georgie to bed I am afraid the pregnancy hormones and exhaustion took over and I burst into tears as soon as they left the room.
So, at 10 o’clock when I grabbed a quick minute to head outside into the dark, cold & cruel outside world (I said I was feeling emotional, right?!) to double-check that our beloved car was indeed completely empty of our possessions (does anyone really trust their husbands to carry out such a task without at least checking it out yourself?) before James takes it to be sold tomorrow, I found the whole thing a bit creepy, and a little sad too. We have had this car for five years, and while that might not seem like a Very Long Time, it has been there during a lot of our Big Life Experiences.
To see our precious “first car” utterly empty and soulless nearly had me in tears (emotional day, pregnancy hormones, remember?!). I know, I’m pathetic. But, in my defence, we bought this car together just weeks after we got engaged. To some the “joint purchase” (ok, ok, it was all in James’s name) of a £11,000 car (over a 5 year payment plan) shows more commitment than a ring on the finger and we didn’t even hesitate to believe we would still be together 5 years later – there were no doubts as we (ok, he) signed the dotted line. And of course, we weren’t wrong. As we looked at the different cars we were already thinking 3, 4, or 5 years ahead and talking about the need for the car to accommodate the beginnings of a family – we checked for isofix points and imagined a boot full of luggage for family holidays.
And now we have outgrown our little family car. When we go away for a trip it’s packed to the brim with the travel cot, pushchair, and everything else a toddler requires. With another baby on the way it means more space would be better for the extra luggage. Another car seat in the back means never being able to squeeze a third adult into the car, or put any of the seats down for trips to IKEA. So the search began to choose our Next Car. James got to choose everything – the make, model and what age/mileage he wanted.
I got to choose the colour. And because we were buying second-hand, my choice wasn’t even guaranteed to be taken into full consideration!
Also, I got to pick the colour and trim of the floor mats that we’re going to be buying. Oh. My. God. Has the world gone mad?! A woman getting to have two whole opinions about something new car related.
Tomorrow, James will be taking our empty (also cleaner and tidier than any point in the last 5 years) car to the garage, handing over the keys, and driving away with our new (old) car. The People Wagon will be coming home.
Soon, it will be littered with toys and other toddler related items. There will be stray change inexplicably wedged under the seats in impossible locations. My Eddie Stobart spotters guide will be in the glove compartment and we will begin the dispersal of fur and long brown hairs (tum te tum) into the carpet. It will, at some point, get its first coating of Cornish mud (a regular addition to our Peugeot’s paintwork), and in February an additional car seat will be added to its ranks.
I am pleased we bought this car. I am delighted to have found exactly the car we wanted (I got my colour choice after all!!) for a Very Good Price. And I’m looking forward to the new memories and journeys we will make in the People Wagon.
However, on our last night of owning the Peugeot, last night I let myself feel a little teary (pregnancy hormones, remember!? Bad Day?!) for the loss of the car we brought Georgie home in. The car we drove to & from our wedding, across Ireland and back, all over England, and even the memory of breaking down in Cornwall whilst pregnant made me give a wobbly little smile. Seriously. I peed in the bushes a lot that day. It was cold. I was pregnant. Go figure.
Bye-bye car. Hello People Wagon!
P.S. Whilst I was writing this post my husband read it over my shoulder. There were many interjections & protests, giggles and snorts, and a couple of eye rolls in the manner of “my wife is a hormonal emotional idiot”. I can live with that.