One of the longest-running ways in which I've fought the powers that be is by not owning a car. Everyone has a car, which is good as whenever we've needed one a kind friend has loaned one to us. With an extra bit of car-renting, so far we've cheated our way through seven years of mostly using public transport and Shanks's Pony to get around.
Well, after all that time we've finally taken a step away from socialist utopia and towards the kind of capitalist property ownership this great country was built on. We now own a car. Mainly because the USA is just so spread out! The other factor is a 2-yr-old who no longer finds the nearby library and/or park every single afternoon to be a fulfilling pastime. And there's something about nearing 40 and doing your weekly shop with a backpack that is damaging to both body and self-esteem.
We bought the cheapest and smallest car we could find, of course - my true American aspiration to own a truck was cruelly vetoed - so we're now in possession of a Ford Fiesta. A manual, no less. "You shift real good," the salesman told me on the test drive, which I believe was a compliment about how I change gears. Americans don't like to use more than one leg while driving or, indeed, either of the indicators.
So now we no longer have to answer embarrassing questions about why Hannah works in oil while we fail to contribute to the consumption of fossil fuels. And it is a very nice car. It looks a bit like an Aston Martin, if you squint, turn your head on its side, and close one eye. Which is appropriate as I've often been compared to the young Sean Connery (if you squint, etc.)
My car.
Bond's car.
Me. Or Sean. It's quite hard to tell.
