I’m Determined To Keep My New Car A ‘No Eating’ Zone
Sort of exciting news, my friends! We just bought a new SUV thingy. I had held back on this for many, many months, since, while I like SUVs, I don’t necessarily think all SUV drivers are the best drivers (and I don’t think I will be one either.)
I had to give in. My fiancé and I and our four children (especially the baby with the huge car seat) have not been able to take one car anywhere. When we visit parents or friends, or drive to my cottage, or just want to go for dinner, we always have to take two cars. I didn’t mind this, since I like quietness, but I finally gave into my fiancé’s pleas.
“We can’t even go as a family anywhere together!”
And I will agree with the car seat and growing children, all who have long legs, no one was comfortable in either of our cars.
Children are messy though. When I bought my car a few years ago I was thrilled. It was black on black, shiny, and I had an electronic woman’ voice who talked to me like a friend (after I plugged in directions.) But, best of all, it SMELLED LIKE NEW CAR.
Who doesn’t get off of the smell of new car? Next to the smell of the shampoo my hairdresser uses, there’s no better smell. My mother-in-law got a new car more than a year ago, and hers still smells like “new car.”
When I first got my new car, I made a rule that it was to be a “NO EATING CAR” meaning my daughter was not allowed to eat in the car. That lasted about a week, until we went to my parents’ house and they handed her a cookie as we drove off. It just went down hill from there.
Before I could say, “Super size fries!” she was eating McDonald’s in the back seat when I’d take her through drive-thru. She was eating banana bread from Starbucks, which trust me, is worse than eating French fries. She was even eating ice cream cones.
So, my “new car” smell lasted about six months, maybe, before the stench of not “new car” took over. I would find French fries on the floor and in between the seats, crumbles of banana bread everywhere, and, of course, give a kid a juice box in a car (or at least my daughter) and forget about it — it will spill. Then there were her schoolbooks, her dance clothes, her art work, her toys, markers — the entire back seat looked like we were actually living in it.
It got to the point that I thought, “Oh my god. RATS are living in this car. I swear, I think I heard something scurrying around!”