We bought a new car. It wasn’t slated into our immediate financial plan, but when awarded squat for my husband’s mashed up write-off and a whopping $5000 repair estimate for our 11 year old van (lovingly known as the Silver Bucket) we were left with little choice.
Despite the sharp snap of our purse strings, I’m thankful for this new vehicle. It makes me feel safe and relaxed. When I’m driving it, I am patient and peaceful. There’s just something about it.
I didn’t know what it was at first.
There is the obvious. I mean, I’m not driving the Silver Bucket anymore. That’s a plus. There’s no need to fret about it breaking down while on the road or worse, losing steer-power on the freeway and me, subsequently crashing to my untimely death in a cringe-worthy caravan. Insult to injury.
All jokes aside though, that van has been good to us. We’ve owned it for quite some time, payment and almost maintenance-free. It has reliably delivered our children from A to B on countless occasions and hauled 4000 pounds over long, dry roads and rocky terrain. It kept going when the going was tough. Just for us. And it’s appreciated.
But it took me a while to get it.
It‘s not just the obvious. There is a certain straightforwardness to our new ride. An ease to hopping in, turning it on and getting where we need to be. No sense in entertaining the what if’s. No need to confuse cares with concern over complications.
Put simply; simple is nice.
Hazy Shades of Me 