At our house it always looks like we are having a party.
We have five vehicles for four people and no one lays claim to any one vehicle.
What this means in our family is that you take the vehicle that best suits your needs for the day. Trucks for firewood, pulling things and hauling kayaks. The sport utility also serves well for that.
It is also pressed into service by Boywonder, who, at 20, has taken to living like a hobo during the summer months. He sleeps in the back of the vehicle in various hay fields around the region with friends. I don’t ask too many questions. It’s how a mother stays sane.
The sedan is for dates, easy shopping and better gas mileage. It was BoyWonder’s primary vehicle of choice prior to the summer of sleeping in vehicles.
Sharing is not without issues. The offspring fight bitterly over turf in vehicles as siblings are prone to do, from their early childhood battles over the “middle space” between their booster seats to the current battle over vehicle trash.
Boywonder, for all his many strengths, is a mess when it comes to his car. Also anyone else’s car. Candy wrappers, soda bottles, clothing, shoes, and random trash quickly pile up in every available space. He’s never seen a cup holder he couldn’t fill with clutter. Loaning him a vehicle is like letting Pigpen borrow your ride.
Case in point, Boywonder ate wings in one of the trucks two weeks ago. I found the package and remaining wings under the seat yesterday. I sent him a text pointing fingers at this gross display.
He replied, “wings that you’ve neglected to throw out for two weeks. So who is really messy?” He’s lucky he’s cute.
In my defense it was well hidden under the boots, flip flops, bags and pop bottles, am I right?
Since he needed the SUV for yet another adventure, GirlWonder was recently driving the sedan. She cleared space among the mountains of trash and drove to a soccer game. Heading home on the highway the vehicle’s dash started beeping and flashed low oil pressure.
It instructed her to stop engine so she did. Obviously, she did. We are very proud of her for not just ignoring the “idiot light” like her mother routinely does in other vehicles.
We have roadside assistance but even the best require patience. She had the keys in her hand the entire time the vehicle sat on the side of the road with the flashers on. When the flatbed arrived to bring it home they had to jump it.
The vehicle was totally dead. Not a lick of power anywhere. Of course it was. That had nothing to do with the original issue; that is just that car being dramatic. That’s the same trick it pulled on me when I drove it months ago.
I spent two-and-a-half hours waiting for rescue because somehow you can shut it off and take the key out but it’s not really off. It is still draining the battery. That was a fun night. Of course when checked the next morning, the car and oil were perfectly fine. Google research says it’s a sensor known to go bad.
Whatever. I don’t care what Google says. I know possession when I see it. I drove it. The car refused to run. GirlWonder drove it. The car refused to run.
We call it “Christine” after the Stephen King novel of the same name about a car possessed to love only one owner. In this case Boywonder. It never has an issue for him. He piles it full of sport gear, trash, and it sails along merrily. Anyone else takes the wheel and the car is not having it.
The only other explanation is that GirlWonder had just called me to say that she wanted to stop on the way home and vacuum the car out. We think the car just panicked.
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