Versa Envy

Absolutely dying to trade my clunky old SUV in for a new Nissan Versa. The amazing thing is that it was Christian’s idea. I almost died when my swaggering, 6 foot four, climate change denying husband--who absolutely insisted that a Tahoe was the smallest vehicle a couple of vertically enhanced kids like us could possibly get--came home one day and told me he had found or next car. Some friends of his got a Versa--exactly the one we’re hankering for (white with tan interior)--and let him try it out. Apparently it’s got a ton of room inside—even in back. I like it because it’s so darn cute and because I’m sick of driving around with my gas needle hovering on empty because I just can’t bear to shell out a hundred bucks to fill the sucker up. The problem is—who the hell wants a beat up old 98 vintage gas guzzler that smells like sour milk and has a bunch of unvacuumable goldfish crumbs between the seats. (I’d better stop dissing her or she might break down on me—again). I heard a piece on NPR the other day about a guy who has TWO gigantic Ford SUVs—fairly new. He decided to try to trade one in and got offers of eight to eleven thousand for a $50,000 car! So apparently the answer to my question is: nobody. So, I guess we’re stuck with her. Meanwhile, I’ll continue trying to consolidate my errands, limit child-related outings, feeding the beast ($20 at a time) and dreaming of a little white Versa.