We drive a late 90′s volvo station wagon that has 7 seats. I have learned to love it. I affectionately call it the Swedish Tank, and it has allowed me to stay out of a mini van.
Prior this, I had a Toyota Matrix. I love me a matrix. Love. When you drive a matrix, you say ‘WHEEEEEEE’.
When you drive a Swedish Tank, you say “Vroooooom”.
Neither is apparently here nor there, as my tank now needs some work. Like a few thousand dollars of work. Bad month for that.
This is where, you readers, get to weigh in.
Do we fix it, staying with the devil we know?
Scrap it, and get another car payment for something newer, and hopefully more reliable aka the dreaded minivan?
What I would eventually love is the Honda Pilot. We’ve test driven one before and I’m almost as in love, as I was with my Matrix. Sadly, it’s not within budget. Even a used one.
But a minivan???
I have a violent, visceral reaction to driving a minivan. My apologies to all of you driving minivans. I do not feel that way about you. Not even a little bit.
But me? A minivan?
Can’t see it.
I may as well buy a house in the ‘burbs, get a white picket fence, and reprogram myself. Which is ridiculous. I can see the many merits of having a minivan and that it doesn’t change who I am.
I am trying to figure out why I am letting the idea of a large peice of metal and plastic bug me so much.