How I Came to Own a Car That Seats 17

Ok, not really 17.  More like seven.  Plus my two dogs.  And our stuff.  Our stuff=our children's junk lovely and cherished possessions.

That's right, I am now wheeling around VA in this:

This car is so big, I can't even back up against the garage far enough to get the entire thing in the frame.

We did NOT intend to buy this car.  It all started very innocently.  We were inexplicably tight on space in my old car on our drive to the beach.  Our little family plus our babysitter, Sarah, were packed in like sardines driving south.  It was even worse coming back because we added some toys thanks to a little bday celebration for Cate and her cousins.  I rode with my legs indian style the entire way down and back and every time we'd ask Sarah if she had enough room in our third row, I swear something would shift and she'd get knocked in the head by a bag, beach chair, or Cate's red bike.

Why didn't you avoid buying a new car and just get a rooftop carrier, you may ask.   Ah, thanks.  We already own one and used it.  Well, why didn't you try to edit and pack smartly?  Two words--two girls.  They like taking their stuff places and it makes them more comfortable/sleep better.  And if you know me, you know I will do pretty much anything in the name of sleep.

So, Rhett started casually perusing used car websites when we got back from the beach with the thought that we might just buy one some time over the next year.  I told him I had a list of requirements--white car, light leather, low mileage, DVD player, seat heaters, and the piece de resistance--captain's chairs.  We quickly realized that it would be nearly impossible to find a car we liked with captain's chairs because they came standard on only the most deluxe models--AKA the models we were not willing to shell out for.

And then a few Saturdays ago, lightening struck.  He saw a listing that had just been posted on a website for a car that fit all of my requirements, was (sort of) in our price range, and was listed at under 1,000 miles.  You had me at hello, Mr. Under 1,000 Miles White Car.  This car was a mid-level package, not the deluxe, but whoever bought it added lots of options and then promptly decided to never drive it.

Rhett sent an information request e-mail into the website and ten minutes later a guy named Woody Harrison (awesome name) called my cell.  Spur of the moment, Rhett made an appointment to go see the car.  Things were moving fast.

Woody then called back fifteen minutes later.  He was sitting in the car.  The car was nice.  And it wasn't just clocking in under 1,000 miles.  It had 197 miles on it.  So we bought it.  And it is freaking fantastic.

One of my friends, upon hearing that we bought such a massive car, said "you know, those things come with a three kid requirement, right?"  Well, if that is true, Mr. Under 1,000 Miles White Car needs to be returned because I am holding firm at two children with zero in the hopper.  For now, we are enjoying the massive space and convenience.  I am in love--mainly with my husband, but also the car.

Dear Diary: Jackpot!