by JO ABI
I always pay attention to the cars people drive. Cars say a lot about a person. Take mine, for example.
I drive a small, gold, 4WD. It says ‘mum’ but ‘fun mum’. It says ‘trendy’ or ‘fashionable’ but sensible. It says ‘happy to go dancing but too busy raising children’. It says ‘is usually practical except when grocery shopping in heels.’
Now we need a second car. I am sick of my husband of using our car (my car) and leaving his fast food wrappers littered all over it. He has a really old car and a motorbike and after ten years of nagging, has finally agreed to trade them both in for a second car for our family. (I am very happy to see the back of his over-priced, ridiculous, imported motorbike. It’s a Triumph Rocket. It takes more petrol than my 4WD and the last service cost $3000. I wish I was exaggerating. In comparison, my last service was $147.)
“You can buy another motorbike next year,” I told him (over my dead body). His eyes light up at the prospect of a new motorbike and within minutes he is online and searching for a new car.
I start making dinner, running over to check out a few options as he goes. While stirring the spaghetti sauce I notice he is carefully reading through the features of a hatchback.
“No hatchbacks,” I call out.
“Why not,” he asks.
“Hatchbacks are a single person’s car,” I explain. Obviously he isn’t aware of the implications some cars can have.
“That’s ridiculous,” is his response.
“Um, no it’s not. We have kids. It’s a sedan or a 4WD.”
“Are you serious?” I sigh. I decide to speak more slowly.
“If we drive a hatchback people will think we are single or want to be single. And while we’re at it, no cars with sporty features. They mean we’re having a mid-life crisis and I’m only thirty-six. I’m not there yet.”
He sits stunned, staring at me like I’m some alien-species. But I’m right, aren’t I? Cars say a lot about a person. Yellow – likes attention. 4WD – has children or plans on having children (or dogs or snow boards). Hatchback – single without a care in the world. Sports car – single, wealthy, lotto winner or looking to stray.
Am I the only one who knows this? Surely not.
“I want a hatchback because it’s easier to get the kids scooters and bikes in and out of,” he explains, as though he’s dealing with a petulant child.
“Get a Pathfinder,” I suggest.
“We already have a 4WD. I was just going to get a small car.”
“Get a Murano, they are stylish,” I call out.
“Smaller Jo,” he calls back.
“How about a Maxima. They are nice. But not red or yellow. Get blue or silver or something sensible, so everyone knows we’re in a committed relationship.”
My husband rolls his eyes at me and I go back to cooking dinner. Thank goodness I was here while he was looking. Obviously only I know the nuances of buying a new car.
“And don’t get a ute or you’ll spend every weekend helping people move house,” I add.
I continue explaining the obvious and detect a sigh from his general direction. He may have stopped listening.
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What does your car say about you?