Let’s just say, hypothetically of course, that myself and the Hub have done a little traveling. It’s the kind of traveling that marks auspicious changes in one’s life. The kind of traveling where you realize that no, you cannot rent the cheapy economy car anymore. If your significant other is anything like mine, you know how traumatizing this can be for the family cheapskate, budget conscious American.
The Hub grudgingly signed the paperwork for a mid-size car, whilst I gleefully went on my merry way towards a comfy car with lots of legroom. All was well, until we started loading, and gulp, realized there was a significant lack of space incredibly quickly.
And lo, it was then the Hub’s turn to gloat, as the kindly rental car dude could only give us one option when we dragged our significant amount of baggage back to his counter. A mini-van.
Holy fucking crap. I’m cruising around in a mini-van. For a wee person who will probably be riding around, but then again may not, with us, I’m in a mini-van. Me, the person who swore never, ever EVER to be seen in a mini-van.
We may not recover from this trauma for a loooooooong time. Although rumor has it that satellite radio is on board. . . .
This definitely calls for pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.
I would die, just flat out die, if I had to rent a minivan. Hell, I would take the gas-guzzling, planet destroying SUV before I would get in a minivan. Good lord, I would have visited every rental car company at the airport before getting into a minivan! (I think you’re getting my theme here. The lady is too much the diva to rent or buy a mommobile!)