Giddy up!

The wife and her straight of honor are on a mission today.  It involves a horse.  A blue horse.  A blue horse in the Cheddarlands.

Yes, the wife is on her way to buy a new Mustang.....in a cheesehead town three hours away....selling her two cars at the same time in the same town....on a day I can't leave town.....without ever seeing or driving the exact car.

If you are going to have excitement, you might as well go all the way.  I've created this monster.  (Yes, this is a photo of the exact car.  It's all she's been going on.  What have I done?)

Those of you who know the wife know that she LOVES her cars; in fact, it is a safe venture to say she loves her cars more than she loves me.  I'm all good with that....although, it took me many a year and a lot of therapy to embrace this fact.  She cleans them, waxes them, caresses them, keeps them out of the elements, vacuums them, adores them.  Think I'm kidding? Last night, Cheeseball neighbor says to me, "she has an unhealthy relationships with her cars." That would be very true.  She doesn't park under tress (sap), park near store entrances (carts, car doors), eat in the car (stains, odors), let me drive them (accident waiting to happen), ride in them (finger prints and dirty shoes).  She loves them.  Tenderly.  Fully.  Ridiculously.

The wife just about makes loves to her current Mustang.  She loves, loves, loves that car.  Problem is that she can't drive it--ever since hurting her back, she hasn't been able to drive the stick shift without being in incredible pain both during and after the drive.  It's been sitting in the garage, sad and lonely, nary a horse hoof to be heard. Although she told herself otherwise for months, she finally came to the correct conclusion that she and her Mustang were no longer going to be friends.  She would not be returning to glory in her machine of beauty.

Since it became pretty clear that driving a stick shift is no longer in the wife's repertoire, she's been toying with getting a new car.  Those of you who know the wife know this is like a three year ordeal--she takes her time, researches the prices, the reviews, the dealers, the makers--everything.  It literally takes her years.  So, when she announced she was going to start looking for a car, I didn't pay much attention.  I figured she'd drive the "grandma-mobile" for a year or two and then buy the car of her choice.

It's been TEN years since the wife bought a new car. To illustrate her love of this car, all I have to tell you is the mileage: 35,000.  That's 3500 miles a year.  (I think I drive that in a month!) I'm serious when I say she doesn't drive it in winter, rain or construction.  This makes buying a car even harder for the wife--she's got this pristine Mustang, shiny and perfect, in unbelievable condition, which she loves and covets....and, she can't sell it for more than a pittance.  It doesn't matter that it only has 35,000 miles and is as clean as an operating room.  It doesn't matter it has never seen snow or street salt.  All that matters is that it is ten years old and that means the price is mighty low.  It is a mighty blow to have to try and sell that car.

Back to the wife buying a car.  She's been looking at all these boring cars of brands....mainly four door, family cars.  It's just awful.  Not her at all.  The wife was born to drive a sports car.  Sigh.  I watch in horror, hoping to the Car Gods that she really doesn't end up with one of these sedans.  She emails dealers, visits dealerships on Sundays, talks to dealers...always looking at cars that do not match her psyche.  She doesn't even look excited or happy or moved by any of the cars--she is missing the mark.  I want to scream "THESE CARS DON'T MATCH YOU!" 

Then, it occurs to me: the problem isn't the Mustang--it's the stick shift.  Why is she looking at yucky old people cars when she can buy a new Mustang--an AUTOMATIC Mustang?  I stop myself from speaking--after all, an automatic Mustang borders on sacrilege.....but, it's the perfect answer.  Either buy a new, automatic Mustang or get an automatic put in the current stick shift car.  I chew on my lip and think carefully before speaking.  I quietly, meekly suggest the unthinkable:

"Why don't you get a new Mustang--an automatic?" 

She stares at me as if I have three heads.  Then, I see the light go on.  Then, I see a glimmer of hope.  Then, I see excitement start to surface.  Then, I see the wheels turning--Mustang wheels!

Yes, a new Mustang makes perfect sense.  Well, kind of.  Driving a Mustang year-round in northern Illinois doesn't make sense at all.  But, it does make perfect sense in relation to the wife.  The car matches her.  Winter be damned, it makes sense.

Long story short, she found a Mustang, bought the Mustang and had it delivered three hours away.  Don't ask.  I'm not kidding when I say she bought it sight unseen, at a dealership she has never been to. She didn't see a photo of the actual car until her brother emailed it to her as the deal was being made.

This is not the wife I know but I am truly enjoying it.

  The wife sold her cars to her brother, who thankfully lives in the town where the new Mustang awaits the wife's arrival.  It'll be quite the ordeal--a three hour trip (great for people recovering from back surgery), a how-many-hour dealer transaction, a three hour trip back home.  Of course the trip home will be a lot faster than the trip there.....a new horse has a lot more energy than some ten year old mare being put out to pasture......

Giddy up, girlfriend!  Let the new love fest begin.