It’s a delicate subject. Age. The Retired Husband (TRH) is celebrating another ageing milestone today. I stepped on his delicate toes last night when I called him “The Old Man”. Mind you, I only did so after he himself shared The Man Song on Facebook.
Apparently he is the only one who can make jokes at his own expense! I will, however, continue to gently orientate him to reality. It is my duty as his wife. After all, I took a vow to “love, honour and…. in sickness and in health until death do us part.”
Celebrations have been building up to a crescendo for the last couple of months or more. I am not sure whether he deployed a purposeful strategy or not, but yesterday we took delivery of The New Car. Well timed. We had agreed that having two cars now that we’re retired, is just silly. TRH has his motorbike so if he needs to zip off somewhere and I am using the car he can two wheel it. Easy. The current cars would be traded in as part of the purchase negotiations. Well. That plan was shot out the window. Our boys decided they wanted to buy our cars. At trade in prices. Just because. At present our driveway looks suspiciously like a used car lot whilst the boys are negotiating sales of their cars. And Marc is already planning even further ahead. When we are ready to downsize to something smaller than a monster truck, he will buy The New Car.
The research, agonising and leg work that has gone into this purchase has been impressive. By TRH of course. Internet searches. Probably dozens of trips to car yards. Collection of brochures. More trips to car yards. Several test drives of various makes and models. Many, many, many discussions with me. Not so many with the boys. They seem to be of the same mind in matters of ve-hi-cles. I could not begin to list the minutiae of detail that has been gone into. It is alien speak. Whether it is Vulcan, Andromedan or Pleidean I am not sure. Possibly Taurean.
Me? I like pretty colours. Cars that get me from A to B without having to change gears (my current car is a manual). Cars that work when and as they should. Oh, and cars that can zip in and out of tight little spaces. And have big boots for shopping bags. That is pretty much the sum total of my list. Impressively comprehensive I would have thought. But apparently not.
Here is a summary of our many, many discussions –
Colour: I can choose. As it turned out, choice was very limited. Red or blue. I had rather fancied a hot pink. Not an option.
Make and model: I cannot choose. I can express an opinion which may or may not be listened to. I did. It wasn’t.
Size: not negotiable. It will be monstrously big. It is. I will need driving lessons. And computer lessons. It has one. I just hope it does not need underground cabling to work or we will be in serious trouble!
Size of boot: no boot. But the tray will be so big and so high that I cannot reach to put anything in. As for taking anything out – forget it! I may need a mini trailer to go shopping. Or home delivery.
Mechanically sound: it’s a new car so that is a given. Apparently.
And as you can see for yourself from the photos here, it is BIG.The left little red car is the one I currently drive. Our dog, as you can see, is the size of a flea next to the monster truck. In reality she is more like the size of a cute little kitty cat.
The birthday celebrations started last night. We went out for dinner with the kids to a local Indian restaurant. It was lovely. Taking our duty of parenting very seriously, we even managed to suitably embarrass the children publicly.
This morning, TRH had the pleasure of being taken to breakfast by ‘his three girls’. But not before he had to negotiate a way out of our court. You see the road is being chopped up today for installation of underground sewage etc for the new build three houses down. All our neighbours had thoughtfully moved their cars down the road. Ours was still in the driveway. So off trotted TRH to speak to the road worker dude. He was gone a long time. I was convinced we would have to stay home when I saw the pair of them heading into our driveway deeply engaged in conversation. How wrong was I ! The road worker dude was being given a personal guided tour of The New Car. I could hear his admiring ooh’s and aah’s through the closed window. His gentle fondling of the exterior. The opening and closing of doors. The admiration of the new car smell. It was not until the comment about the ‘gently bulging curvature of the bonnet’ that I opened the window to delicately inquire “And just what the hell does that mean?” TRH smiled and said, Don’t worry. She’s a woman. She doesn’t understand. The road worker dude nodded and mumbled, Yeah, I wasn’t going to say that! (Sorry about the fuzzy photo – it was raining…)
I was afterwards informed that the gently bulging curvature of the bonnet has nothing to do with the primary male brain being located in the groin. It is all about the beauty of the car. Seriously?! Anyway, the upshot of this mutual male admiration society of ve-hi-cles is that the road worker dude moved his bulldozer. And SWEPT !! the road so The New Car would not get dirty. How sweet.
And tonight, we will go out to dinner – again. A food and ve-hi-cle themed birthday this year!
© Raili Tanska