I think, if I count correctly, that Hubster and I have had 9 cars since we've been together. Bear in mind, our's has been a whirlwind relationship: three dogs, three kids, three houses, and two countries in 7 years.
Nine cars is not surprising.
It started with two Fords, one a Sierra and the other a Focus. One that ran beautiful and was perfect for a bachelor, one that ran like it had arthritis and was not so perfect for someone unaccustomed to driving on what she considered the wrong side of the road.
Luckily for Luna the Love Dog, we managed to get hold of a Volvo 240 estate/station wagon, aka Betty the Bomber. That car was a heavy as all get out but could turn on a dime. Plenty of space for dog fur and the precious little car seat for keeping Mini-Husband snug and safe.
Unfortunately, the electrics went and so therefore did Betty.
Enter the Mercedes E-Class estate. A big old black cruising machine. You could steer that huge barge with one hand.
Of course, once we hit France, it was time to get back on the right (and right) side of the road so time to change cars yet again. Good thing, Hubster was all over getting a Fiat Doblo. A box on wheels with sliding doors and air conditioning were a gift indeed for the rapidly growing family of the Birth Control B&B.
Then, love at first site. Hubster scored his mid-life crisis car well before his 40th birthday: A VW Golf Cabriolet. (A Rabbit convertible in American English.) It was a Bordeaux beauty with black leather seats and enough space for The Princess in the snuggly baby seat up front, then me and Mini-Husband windblown in the back.
When we left the mega-opolis of Clermont-Ferrand behind, it was time to make sure my Hubster could get himself to work, come snow or sleet. Lucky for him, a nice little 4x4 did just the trick. "The Little Cat Cat" has earned it's place in our hearts for many, many reasons. Most importantly, the chance for Hubster to come home from work without ever rolling on pavement.
Enter Bubba-Love and the whole game is thrown for a loop.
After a journey to Germany and back with me stuck between two toddlers, the search for a larger car commenced. Actually, I think it commenced before we went on the trip, but I actually started looking at cars myself after having suffered pacifiers being thrown at me for 8 hours in between various European rest stops.
Once again, Hubster fell in love. And so did the rest of the family. Nothing like a fabulous Land Rover Discovery with seven seats and all the bells and whistles to tickle everyone's fancy. Who knew it would be so easy to clean baby puke off such nice leather!
Of course, the only downside to driving a luxury car is the luxury price to keep it running.
Lucky for us, once again, we profited from the migration of expats back to the US and got hold of a Peugeot 307 SW, a nice little 7-seater station wagon with more dings on the body work than this woman (who is famous for crashing cars) could ever dream of doing herself. A match made in heaven.
Yesterday, we finally whittled ourselves down to just having two cars, The Cat Cat and the 307 Banger. It's a strange feeling just having the two cars. And as Hubster pointed out last night, we now have more kids than cars. I think that makes him slightly uncomfortable.
I'm fairly sure that this isn't the end of our mechanical additions to the family. My only fear is that this may mutate into a whole new vehicle category. Since we bought that bit of land behind the house last year, Hubster has started cruising the local John Deere dealers.
I can see it now. When we reach 10 years of marriage the tally will read: 3 kids, 10 cars, four dogs, and two tractors.
His and Hers.