No wheels/new wheels

Tidbit of the day: If you think bringing a wriggling toddler into a car dealership, one prone to squeezing out deadly loads of noxious poop at key moments and tossing crackers at the receptionist’s head will hasten a great deal — think again.

Hoo boy. This living with one car thing hasn’t gone as planned. First, the plan was based on summer weather — sunny, dry days — very few of which we’ve had here this season.
And then there’s this:



Which, in one loud bang, killed our plans to save up for a second car while paying off the first, thereby putting us in a nice financial position.

Shit happens, right? After waiting as patiently as a two-year-old for insurance settlements and then car shopping with a toddler in tow (see above), we’ve found a replacement vehicle:



I won’t say I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat last night realizing I BOUGHT MY FIRST FOREIGN CAR. Kinda felt like the first time I bared my tattoo in front of the mother. Naughty.

This is nearly a mortal sin here in THE MOTOR CITY. The car, not the tattoo.

All my life I rode in American-made cars. All I’ve ever driven are American cars. I come from a UNION FAMILY BACKGROUND.

Slowly, though, I’ve noticed more friends and family members slinking around in foreign models. Friends from out of town don’t think twice about getting a Japanese car.

But what American-made car is truly 100 percent made in America anymore? All have this part and that system produced outside our borders. Even my Pontiac Vibe was a sister vehicle to the Toyota Matrix.

We shopped and we researched and we discussed and labored over this. The American car we wanted we could not get in our price range with what we wanted. Period. The only other options were too freakin’ small for a family of four that travels all the time.

The foreign market was ripe with options for us. In the end the car we found had everything we wanted and more at a very affordable price, good gas mileage and good crash-test ratings. Bottom line, the American car companies are not offering much beyond the behemoth gas guzzlers. Been there, done that. Over it.

So, I should sleep at night, right?

But I may be visited by three ghosts: GM, Ford and Chrysler. To them I say, yeah, exactly, you are ghosts.