Farewell to Midge

Just spent the last hour placing ads to sell my beloved Midge - the 1976 Mercedes 450SL I bought myself when I passed the bar exam. This car, especially when topless and accompanied by a non-pregnant me in a matching Dodgers hat turned a few heads in the greater Ventura and Santa Barbara area in its day. I almost sold it when I moved, knowing the mountain roads and unpredictable weather would be the death of her, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Since the move I've driven it a few times and, surprisingly, didn't even need it to snare Q (although he secretly wants to keep her for "date night").

Now, with thoughts of car seats, small person bodily functions, and graham cracker crumbs crushed on leather seats, I've accepted that it's time for Midge to make someone else cool for a while. Besides, I can get a god chunk of change out of her (still less than 92,000 original miles) and know she'll be cared for while I tool around town in my cousin's old Honda Civic.

Yep, that's the replacement, family-friendly car I'm getting. It's practical (4 doors - I've never had one of those!), will run forever, gets good mileage, and, best of all, won't have a car payment. Q and I will reassess the vehicle issue in a few years once we figure out how this whole parenting thing works. And we made a deal that we each get a car, any car that we want, no questions or comments allowed by the other party, in 18 years when the Lentil Bean leaves for college or runs away or does whatever unimaginable teenage thing he or she will inevitably do as payback for my own misspent youth.