I thought November was primarily known as the no-shave month. This is a tradition that I follow dutifully and even expand to most of the winter months. When you live in upstate New York you need all the extra warmth nature can afford you.
OK. I'm exaggerating. Mostly. But yesterday I noticed that a lot of people were posting things they were thankful for on Facebook, calling it the month of thankfulness. I thought this was a great idea, but decided to steal the idea for a blog series instead. That way you can choose to come find out what I'm thankful for instead of it being decided for you on your newsfeed. I've already failed miserably in starting precisely on November 1...I also failed miserably in calling my brother yesterday to wish him a happy birthday. My month is not off to a great start. But November 2 is another day with no mistakes in it...yet.
My first post of thankfulness could easily be for all those cliches that you see everybody sharing: husband, child, good health. Blah, blah, blah. ;) I'm bucking Bronco Bama here and going straight for the heart of the matter. Today, the first day of my thanksgiving month, I'm starting off with a bang. Today, I am thankful for...
This bad boy.
That's right. After 5 years of driving around what was affectionately referred to as "the Sexy Beast"...
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| I have no idea who the enthusiasts might be for this type of vehicle...the Brady Bunch? |
I finally have my new-to-me car. Sexy Beast was grandfathered into our marriage by VWH, which by some cruel twist of fate I ended up using while he drove my sa-weet sporty Dodge Neon. Something about gas mileage or some such excuse... I know he liked my car better.
Sexy Beast and I have had a love-hate relationship minus the love. There have been blown tires and squeaky belts and no AC for as long as we've been together. But mostly rust. Lots of it. Random parts have fallen out from the undercarriage during various journeys. When we lived in North Carolina the entire muffler fell off and dragged on the road until I pulled off and temporarily fixed it with a hair elastic. I revenged Sexy Beast by running over a spray paint can in the middle of the road (unsurprisingly, this was also in North Carolina) and splattering bright yellow paint along the back side.
After James came along a new level of disdain for SB was born as I bonked my head every time I packed him in his car seat. I'm sure if you ever needed a DNA sample from me you could just go the rear driver's-side door and find ample hair, flesh, and blood material.
Bringing the new PT Baby home from Pennsylvania was a delight. There was heating and air conditioning. The radio worked. The turn signal blinked at a consistent tempo. And James slept the entire way home--no small feat for an 11 month old stuck in a car for 6 hours. Yes. This car will be different.
I certainly did not have a PT Cruiser pegged for my next vehicle. In fact, a small part of me can find a lot of comparisons to the Sexy Beast. My mom wanted to drive a PT Cruiser. I bet your mom wanted to drive a PT Cruiser too, didn't she? I know I'm a mom now, but I'm not MY mom quite yet. I suspect that the vast majority of PT Cruisers are driven by people who receive AARP magazines
BUT. I am not complaining, despite the niggling suspicions in the back of my head. I am thankful for this bright red blessing that graces our driveway and makes James bounce up and down with excitement each time we leave to go somewhere. My forehead is too.
Oh, and...happy birthday Daniel.
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