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What's your dream car wishlist?

Let’s get one thing clear from the get-go. I’m not really a car person. I don’t have long held dreams of driving a red MG or a Porsche.  For year cars to me were all about practicality … which pretty much explains why I’ve spent the majority of the past 17 years in a range of somewhat ordinary never-new, always-second-hand vehicles.

My first car was a zippy little second-hand hatchback.  I loved that car. Sure it had no air-con. Sure it had no power steering but it had a cassette deck (perfect for my Bananarama tapes!).  That car caused me no problems other than the disappointed faces of primary school kids who (because I am an author) always seemed to expect me to drive up in a Rolls Royce for some reason.

My next car was a 12-year-old, second-hand sedan. I hated that car. It had no decent stereo. No CD player. And a busted air-con unit. Plus it was incredibly high maintenance.  Seriously, it was one level up from something Fred Flintstone would drive. Put it this way, I took to calling that car “Meg Ryan” since they ended up having the same amount of work done to them.

And then – just a few years ago – I bought my first new car.  A new car!  Trust me, if you’ve never had a new car before it’s a big deal.  We ordered it just a month before our first baby was born. So it was obvious what our priorities would be: air con and power steering, air bags and excellent safety standards (obviously), a big boot to fit our luggage for those spontaneous trips away we planned to take with our car-loving (sleeps-through-the-night, incredibly attractive) baby; a bike-rack (the fact we didn’t have bikes was irrelevant … I could see us being one of those cute Scandinavian looking families riding along a path near a river on bikes with a baby seat. And a basket.  And thin thighs). What else?  An iPod thingy, tinted windows, and handy compartments for sunnies, change, CDs and maps (to show me where all those bike paths near rivers were actually located).

And then our baby arrived.  And my car became a rusk graveyard.  Three years on and it looks as though it has been overtaken by a horde of angry toddler squatters (who have a penchant for Wiggles tunes).

So while we contemplate our next new car, here’s my revised wish list:

– A big boot to fit the Mother Of All Prams as well as all the  #$%(&% groceries I seem to constantly be buying, loading and unpacking. Like a friggin’ Sherpa.

– Dark carpet to hide the sultanas (which seem to be on a breeding program), the vomit stains and chocolate milkshake stains (Yes, that’s the chocolate milkshake you said you’d never buy but will and do in an attempt to stop toddler from screaming about an imaginary butterfly she regularly claims is in her eye).

– A selection of handy compartments for maps (where the quickest route to day-care/your mother/ the bottle shop have all been marked).

– A compartment for change (because trust me, you’ll be counting out every last 5 cent piece when you’re desperate to buy the sticker book you promised your child if they went to kindy today without sobbing hysterically at the door).

– And tinted windows so that at 5pm when your child is refusing to eat the lasagne you made her and is instead screaming the house down for fish fingers, you can sneak out to the car, take a swig of wine and nobody can see you.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Oh and did I mention air con, power steering and air bags?

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What features would you love to have in your next car?  Real or imaginary, what do you dream of having ….

 

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Top Comments

sami 12 years ago

I want my old car back. I miss it and I cried for ages after I sold it.
I would have kept it forever had my stupid ex not drained me of all my money (idiot that I am). I couldn't afford to pay for fuel, let alone the imminent rego, so it was sold. At least it went to someone I knew so if I win lotto I can potentially buy it back...

It was a one tonner (ute with the tray). A beautiful black 1974 Holden HQ. Everyone would always assume it to be my boyfriends but I never even let him drive it. It did not have airconditioning, power steering or anything fancy. It had windows that were a bit crooked, the radio would cut in and out whenever I indicated/used wipers/turned on headlights, it would overheat in a drive-through. The engine was old but reliable and easy to maintain or potentially fix. It was so heavy that I had trouble with tight corners and the bonnet was so big I parked too far away from things because I was sure I was going to nudge them.

It had character and a story and was utterly unique. It drew attention and envy and was a piece of history. I never once got sick of driving it. It made me smile even as I waited 10 minuted for it to warm up in winter, or as i plotted routes to avoid overheating in heavy traffic in summer.

I still struggle with money and am currently trying to get through some repairs with my current (boring and sensible) car in order to take it over the pits to be licensed. It makes me sad to think I had the car of my dreams and it was taken away because of some selfish idiot, because I let someone use me.

One day I will work my way back to owning another piece of history, hopefully before they're all gone. I still get upset thinking about my beautiful old car :(


girly 12 years ago

I bought a 1.3L Toyota Yaris because it was adorable at the time. Small, suited me perfectly for running around the local area and the occasional 45 minute drive to work when I did early morning shift. It has air con, airbags, CD player, iPod bluetooth, power steering. Was great!

Skip forward 9 months later to me living on the Central Coast, an hour and a half away from work and my boss puts me on early shift. My car now is a pus box. I learned that no, 1.3L is not a good sized engine when driving on the Sydney-Newcastle highway and barely averaging 90kph in a 110 zone.

My next car will have the following additions to the already cool features:
2L engine
Cruise control
A console in between the two front seats
Bigger car alltogether (the boot in the Yaris doesn't deserve to be called a boot, more like a shoebox)
A proper speedo, not an electric one.