Tag Archives: cars

So Long, Farewell, Auto Wiedersehen, Goodbye

28 Nov

Exactly fourteen years ago today I bought this:

The Saturn, not the tow truck.  The tow truck didn’t come around until yesterday.

I didn’t think I’d established a relationship with my car.  I never gave it a name, or even a gender.  But when they pulled it down our street, around the corner, and out of sight,  I got choked up.  Okay, let’s be honest, I bawled like a 3rd grader faced with long division.

The breech in the emotional floodgates started when I flipped over that title, which had been solely in my hands with a giant PAID stamp on it for well over a decade, and was forced to maneuver my handwriting into a signature that my muscle memory had forgotten:  Christina J. Vogelsang.

The car was my first major purchase as a full-fledged, gainfully employed, single adult.  I did the research, the shopping, the haggling (okay, fine, it was a Saturn, there was no haggling), and the paying.  That navy sedan was a sign of my independence.

Except independence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m sad to see the car go, but I am overjoyed that we have now become a two mini-van family.  I embrace the double dorkiness.  Give me booster seats, and entertainment packages, and back-row cupholders.  Forget independence – I have dependents!

And also, I am dependent, on a fantastic man, with whom I have now researched, shopped, haggled (you should have seen me talk to that dealer who wouldn’t give us the price he originally quoted last week), and paid.  It’s a dependency that is accompanied by the most freeing contentment you can imagine.

I cried not for the loss of the last little piece of my single life, but for the many miles that I have covered in the last fourteen years, and the beautiful location at which I have arrived.


I don’t think it’s just her radiator block.

24 Apr

My dear friends, you may have noticed our serious slow-down in blogging in the last few weeks.  Please excuse us, life is really crazy.

I mean, really, really crazy, and not in that “Wow, look how many things are on our schedule” way.    It’s more of the, “Goodness, we have lots of children and they expect us to feed them, and provide clothing that doesn’t expose unnecessary bits of ankle or knee, and to go to our jobs so that we can earn money so as to put a roof over their heads and wheels under their feet” kind of busy.

You know, the kind that you totally get because you live it, too.  The kind that makes you step back every once in a while and say, “Hey, something’s gotta give, and it isn’t going to be our family.”

Yup, those are our lives, and we know you can relate, so we won’t spend copious amounts of time apologizing for it, but posting here might be somewhat less than regular, regardless of how many squished Fiber One bars we eat out of the bottom of our purses.

We just thought you should know.

And also, I wanted a good excuse to post this e-mail that Stacy just sent me.  I’m doing this not only for the entertainment factor, but also as a Public Service Announcement.  If I were you, I would heed the subject line:


To:  Chistina, Mom, Dad
From:  Stacy
Subject:  Don’t call me . . .

….because I MAY bite your head off. (Kindly disregard dangling prepositions today)
Das Auto ist kaputt.
Der Radiator Block ist cracked.
Die Brakes are blown.
Das Wheel Base ist OuttaWack.
Der Problems ser viele.