I’ve been having car issues. Mechanically, my SUV was cherry. Logistically I wanted to light it on fire and push it into the pond. The problem is that I have three children in car seats on a single bench seat. So what, you ask?

Oh, you’ve never put a condom on a dude then tried to shove his balls in, too? That’s adorable. I’d love to be you. Unfortunately, that level of inconvenient suffocation is my life. The seats are so tight together, my kids cannot reach their hands between them to buckle, and I have to slam the door into the seats to get the car to close completely.

You are going to tell me I need a minivan right now. *gently places my finger over your lips* Shhhh. I’ve driven them, I’m just not comfortable in them. They are wonderful, spacious, and I have many friends who adore theirs, but I like the drive and feel of a truck, and minivans are set up in a way that the window is very low on the door. It conflicts with my general desire to not have too much side boob and armpit fat exposed to other drivers. That treat’s for me only, guys.

I told Andy I wanted to buy a car. To me, that’s a really big deal, because I’ve never bought a car before. I spent the first six years of our marriage entirely dependent on Andy, his income and his credit score. He bought the cars, the house, the life insurance, and all the credit cards. I just contributed to the pot and every once in a while, made babies come out.

It never used bugged me before, I guess I was just thankful.  I didn’t have those nice things growing up, so having someone help me have them as an adult was fun. But in the last few years, it’s become a source of unease for me. Sure, in theory what we had was ours. We both work, we both make money, we share a bank account, we pay with and spend our money as one unit. But my whole entire life I’d never actually bought anything standing on my own two feet. I inherently needed to do this, like, for my soul and sense of mental accomplishment, having nothing to do with Andy or our marriage, which are both amazing, mom, seriously, we’re fine.

Buying an SUV was actually way harder than I thought it would be because, brace yourself, SUVs are shrinking. Car companies can say they aren’t, but they are liars. They are shrinking in the name of compact aesthetics and fuel efficiency and loads of other B.S. I want to save the Earth, also y’all, but I need a 4WD SUV large enough to accommodate three car seats and a third row, with enough trunk space leftover in case I go to the grocery and buy more than half a gallon of milk and a box of Hot Tamales.

Andy was really pushing me to buy or lease a brand new model. He wanted to save on gas and offered up loads of creative ways I could invent more room in a small SUV crossover. I then asked Andy to take a week off of work to handle all school pick-ups, drop offs and extra curricular activities, and also left him with our grocery list and detailed schedule of all my work deadlines so he could plan how much time he had to fuck with the loading and unloading processes. He decided to take a hands-off approach going forward.

So, I called my friend Meredith because she’s a strong ass woman with a gaggle of kids who happens to also sell cars. She got me, and I finally admitted out loud what I had been so afraid of this whole time… that they’d say no and that “internet” isn’t a real place of employment. Meredith gave those fears exactly zero fucks and began looking for a used SUV for me that fit all of my requirements and was made before global warming ruined cars.

It was a hard task and the financial stuff was intimidating. I’m actually a terrible negotiator and haggler, I basically just dump my purse on the counter all, what can I buy from you with this collection of purse items? But last night, Andy came home from work and told me to put pants on for a surprise adventure that included frozen yogurt and crepes, watching the sun set at the airport while listening to the new Beck album, and then… a date at the dealership with a car found especially for me.

My First Car

To say I was surprised would be an understatement.  Andy smiled and walked outside to look at cars. I signed my very own name on the paperwork. Brittany Gibbons. Occupation: Internet. Vehicle Size: Obnoxious White Rapper. Status: Approved.

It’s a liberating and selfish act. And I’m so proud of myself. Also my kids aren’t touching each other anymore and that’s glorious.

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