True Confession

I don’t love my husband’s car. I feel guilty saying so because he loves it so much, but there are just so many reasons to hate it.

It is nondescript –  Even his Volvo, that turd-on-wheels money pit that didn’t start on cold/warm/rainy/dry/non-apocalyptic mornings at least had some personality. My daughter assigned our cars names. Over the years, we have had Baby-car, Brother Car, Bessie. This one is just called Car. It is so generic that it took me a year to remember what color it actually is. It’s blue. I think. It might be green, though.  And it looks so much like every other sedan that on more than one occasion, I attempted to get into someone else’s Car of an entirely different make and model.  It’s a little embarrassing when the vehicle’s owner is still sitting in the driver’s seat.

The radio is awful – Or maybe it’s so great and so fancy that it is just beyond the likes of me to appreciate it’s awesomeness. But if I hit the wrong button, the entire face plate comes off. Special. And it eats CDs. More than once, he’s been stuck listening to Josh Groban because I can’t get it to cough the disc back up. Just desserts. For both of them.

My husband has somehow managed to preset some stations, which is great. But if I forget that I am driving Car and channel surf,  I find myself with four channels to choose from. Country and conservative talk radio. Kill. Me. Now.

The power issue– Trying to accelerate enough to merge into freeway traffic is like barrel racing on a bumblebee. There’s a lot of buzzing, but not much ground gets covered.

It is low to the ground – When I am behind the wheel, I feel like I am dragging my bum-bum on the road.

It is small – There are five of us. It’s like driving a clown car.

All the controls are in the wrong place – I know that no two vehicles are exactly the same on the inside. But Car has some super mind-control power. When I borrow it even a short trip, the layout of my own dashboard is wiped cleanly out of my head. I can’t turn on my lights without kicking the windshield wipers into gear.

It hates me, too– My husband could drive the thing to Jupiter and back and never have to stop for gas. I can drive it out of our neighborhood, and the gauge drops from half-full to push-it-to-the-gas-station empty. And I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure it has tried to kill me a time or two. And the seat-belt is on the “strangle” setting.

If you don’t hear from me for a day or two, please come and look for me. My husband just might be just driving Christine.

photo courtesy of Wikipedia.


50 thoughts on “True Confession

  1. I don’t get why men love cars. I mean mediocre, non-descript, Joe-Public-average cars. For me they are just tools to get me from A to B.
    But then, Car doesn’t sound too personality-less to me if it (she?) hates you and tries to kill you. Maybe some councelling would be in order to work out your (and I mean the two of you) jealousy issues?

  2. Cars can smell fear better than dogs, trust me. I’ve had so many cars that had ‘ tricks’ to them it’s crazy. I also had a car that my girlfriend at the tone could never get to work for her.
    I suggest a good talking to. Let car know that you could trade him (this cat is a guy cause it doesn’t want to do any work for the lady) in for a sporty new car that your husband would love so much he would forget all about car. Or, do the ultimate male humiliation and when you get in say, good morning truck… Oh, lol, did I say truck. I was out with this sexy dodge last night and got my engine running…

  3. The trouble with most cars is that they have not been designed by women. You have pointed out many of the problems. Women would not make these mistakes. Ever. We are logical and we actually expect to use the machine, just just fawn over it in the driveway with a chamois in hand and a grin across our faces. So we expect the thing to be put together with a modicum of logic. that is the problem.

  4. Mr. Sandwich drives a really old Honda. And by really old, I mean that it’s from the late 80s. It’s not cute. And I can’t drive it, because I can’t drive stick. But he loves it (and not because I can’t drive it, so don’t bother going there). I know he’ll be sad when we have to replace it.

    I get it, though. I love my Subaru. I’ll be sad about that, too.

  5. Understand. The car I drive now is a nightmare and has it’s own Christine like qualities. It’s also had to be towed about 6 times in the past three months. I’m a favorite customer of AAA.

  6. “Trying to accelerate enough to merge into freeway traffic is like barrel racing on a bumblebee. There’s a lot of buzzing, but not much ground gets covered.” Best descriptive phrase I’ve ever read! ROTFLMAO!

  7. When I first got married, my husband had a little porsche that I absolutely hated. It was always a toss-up as to whether we would get to our destination or sit by the side of the road. He loved it. After a while I refused to get in it. It’s been twenty years, and it’s still in the garage. Not running, but it’s there.

  8. I’m 5’2″, so I know all about the strangle setting on the seat belt. All the problems you’re having with this car seem pretty distracting — you know, distracting enough to make you forget to lock the doors and take the keys when you park it.

  9. Classic! I hear you. We drove a rental that was a Volvo for 2 weeks through the East Coast and Canada. My buns loved the nice seat warmers (those things were turbo-powered!), but the rest of me would have to concur with your “turd-on-wheels” reference. I also had problems with seatbelt strangulation. And, we had to take it back twice to the car rental company to replace fuses. It was almost a brand new car, but we’d plug in our iPod or GPS to charge, and the fuses in the car would blow. It definitely made things interesting!

  10. Clarks gas guzzling SUV has a “strangle setting” on the seatbelt as well, hate that vehicle.
    Cars are so much an extension of us ! 2 years ago I bought a brand new Nissan- I have owned several, they are “no brainer” cars (do the maintenance & they run forever…). But then afew weeks later my son bought a used car I fell in love with – it just “fit” me. Ya think the kid would trade with me ? No !!!! It is THE perfect, most comfortable car. Ugh.
    Great post!

  11. I had a Chevy Cavalier (mid-eighties model) that sounds much like your husband’s car. I could totally relate to your statement about the merging into traffic/bumble bee sound – great description. I said more prayers merging onto the freeway than any other time in my life.

    Perhaps his Car could have a little…you know, accident? A little oil leak can turn into a big engine problem. Oil leaks happen all the time 🙂

  12. Then Husband and I got an Austin America back in 1969. It cost $1700 and came with a year’s supply of gas. I think there were three imported into this country. Whenever we were about to enter the highway, we had to lean forward, hoping to increase the momentum. And in cold weather, we had to take the battery inside.

  13. Halarious post…I suspect Çhristine has a hidden agenda based on the facts you mentioned. You should convince your husband to sell her soon before she really ruins your life. Goodluck!

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