You can call it a mid-life crisis if you want. I prefer an empty nest embrace.

Dear friends,

I think I’ve told EVERYBODY but the readers of this blog that I bought a new car.

You already know about my tragic crash on the ice, wherein I totaled my beloved eight-year-old Honda Accord that was supposed to see me through Kate’s tuition bills.

And you know about the list Parker gave me for car shopping.

Turns out, I bought the third car on his list. And it wasn’t even a close decision.

Here’s why:

2013-Subaru-BRZ-Carscoop2_1

I’ll understand if you want to cry that you have car envy. My Saburu BRZ is a very sparkly charcoal grey (think “glittering slate”), but otherwise looks just like the one in the photo. I’d show you mine but it needs a good wash after picking up a few layers of winter road grime.

My car is a two-seater with a six-speed manual transmission. With a top speed of 140 miles per hour, incredible handling, and enough bells and whistles like XM radio, bluetooth, and navigation to dazzle me, it’s the car of my dreams.

Darn that boy knows his mother.

You know what I love as much as anything? That Mr. Mom loves this car. I think he loves it as much as me and it’s the first time in our lives I’ve seen him like this.

The thing is, Mr. Mom used to design, build and race drag cars. He’s worn a Nomex fire suit and a five-point harness and driven the quarter mile in so few seconds it would make most people scream. In his early 20s, he built the engine and transmission for a 1968 GTO, which for some folks is the holy grail of muscle cars, and he still likes to talk about the charms of that pretty little ride.

At the time, I had recently purchased a used 1982 Nissan Pulsar and I was crushed when he suggested it was a POS. I, of course, thought it was the cutest little sports car ever, but I think he had a better sense of its many design and mechanical failures after replacing the car’s ball joint and brake rotors in the parking lot of my apartment complex on a bitterly cold day in January 1986.

Is it any wonder I fell in love with the man? I mean come on. He did a $300 repair job (in 1986 dollars!) for free after meeting me only 10 days earlier, all because he felt sorry for the college girl working three jobs who couldn’t afford to fix her car or even to tow it to his shop.

Anyway, the man just doesn’t get excited about production vehicles, so when he said he liked this one, a LOT, after I already knew I was smitten, my heart went pitter-pat.

Since I drove it home on December 12th, I’ve taken way too many photos of my BRZ and posted several on social media in ways that would suggest I’m a newly licensed 16-year-old male, not a 50+ female. And I’ve showed it off in person to anyone who will give me a minute.

I don’t even care. I.Love.This.Car.

And I’m shouting it for all the world to hear.

With gratitude {for the car of my dreams that is also loved by the man of my dreams},

Joan, who knows how to get on it, and isn’t afraid to, so drivers in Missouri watch out

PS: Check out this smokin’ cockpit

2013-Subaru-BRZ-interior

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Comments

  1. Lordy, if you were driving that when we road-tripped to Bentonville, we could have gotten lost three times and still arrived with the rooster….

  2. Um, wow. I’m still driving a certified Mom-mo-bile and most definitely have a case of car envy. You sure know how to pick ‘em (men AND cars!).

  3. Wow what a gorgeous car. You will have many happy hours behind the wheel of this beauty. :)

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