What my single car was like vs. my new mom car
I'll forever hold a place in my heart for my gold, hail-damaged 2003 Ford Focus.
For all its faults, my Focus saw me through five moves, four jobs and three boyfriends. By the end of its run, it was held together with only epoxy, duct tape and love. It was the stuff of legend.
Everything changed when I found out I was pregnant, though. The epoxied windows seemed slightly less quirky and slightly more safety-hazardy. Gone were my days as a manic pixie dream girl. I was pregnant and due for a minivan. I've likewise seen an evolution in the cars of all my mom peers, so it's pretty evident that single cars versus mom cars are clearly delineated between then and now.
Then: Looking for sporty and impractical
Also, there's clearly a man's leg hanging out the side of that sporty car. (As there should be, in any good single woman's vehicle).
Now: Safety is the most important selling feature
Moms are so wonderfully lame and overprotective.
Then: Unnecessarily awesome bling
Blinking lights and fuzzy dice? You bet.
Now: In the mood for neutral
We're going to need this in a nice gray or tan. And by "this," we mean both the exterior and interior.
Then: We're going to need more speed
Strictly of the miles-per-hour variety, of course.
Now: We're going to need more cupholders
A top selling feature, obviously.
Then: Covered in Starbucks coffee cups and makeup
How can makeup look so good on a woman and so bad when accidentally smeared all over the interior of her car? Mysteries.
Now: Covered in french fries and Goldfish
At least these top kids' food selections cannot and will not actually decay during the lifetime of the vehicle.
Then: Compact is cozy
Fuel efficient and cuddly? Don't mind if I do.
Now: Compact is from the first circle of hell
The space-to-person ratio is all wrong.
Tell us: How did your ride change when you became a parent?
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