No, no, I’m not talking about age here. Well, I guess in a way I am.
Greg has a way of wearing me down when it comes to getting new stuff. It generally takes me a while to warm up to the idea of purchasing something like an iPhone, or a shed for the yard, or new tires on the car. Greg likes to tell the story about how I really didn’t think we needed to get a DVR when they first came out, but he kept talking about it, sending me emails, researching the product, hinting at it, and playing the recording of how great it would be while I slept to stir the subconscious consumer beast within.
And it works. I love our DVR. (So does my bladder.) And my iPhone. And the shed for the yard. OK, the new tires aren’t very exciting but they do provide quite the peace of mind.
To date, he has gotten several new laptops, a motorcycle, and the DVR this way. I am certain he will soon be getting his own iPhone since he has been bombarding me with hints (subtle and not so subtle) so that I cave or go crazy, or both. It’s not that I don’t want him or us to have nice or new things. It’s not that at all. I just prefer to get things at a much discounted rate at garage sales. Waiting to see an iPhone on a card table in front of someone’s house on a Saturday morning may take too long for Greg though. Go figure. *Shrug.*
His latest burning desire, well, besides me (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), is being presented to me over and over and over and over again with a slightly different angle this time. THIS time it’s all about Greg feeling old. He has declared himself in the throws of a mid-life crisis. And what would soften this self-imposed blow? Thankfully, it is not a Corvette and an 18 year-old (although we ALL know how he likes them young. JUST KIDDING!). No, he has no desire for the sports car or a fling. Thank FSM. Instead, the ONLY thing that will successfully ease the pain of this transition is a VW bus. That’s right. The man wants to turn himself into a hippy. Thankfully, he wants the family along for the groovy ride.
So over the last few months, during the depths of despair of his self-professed mid-life crisis, Greg has thoroughly researched what years are better than others, which engines have a little more umph, which ones had an A/C option, and which ones can have an after-market three-point harness installed to match today’s seat belt standards. Over these last few months, he has sent me many (and by many, I mean TONS) of pictures of buses for sale. You see, he is wearing me down.
Then last week, he firmly planted me on Team Mid-Life Crisis. He’s flung me, albeit gently, into pro-bus mode. How did he triumph, you ask? He took me to look at one. You see, there is a soft spot in my heart for these little gems. My mother and I traveled from El Paso up into Canada and back down the coast over a two month period in one of these things when I was growing up. Not only did we take on the open road, singing 100 Bottles of Bear on the Wall, we did this trip twice, once when I was about 8 and again at 15. As a child I used to love sprawling out in the back while my mom drove us to our next destination. (Of course, my kids will be firmly planted in their 5-point harness
cages car seats.) Camping and crabbing on the sand dunes of Dillon Beach was by far the best time we had in our little bus. It really does bring back great memories.
So we’re actively making plans for a purchase (and subsequent sale of our current mommy-mobile). Now I am just trying get my lead foot to understand that “giving her all she’s got” means, we’re almost at 50 mph!
Oh, and I am also practicing my Spicoli-sounding version of, “Duuuuuuuuude.” I’m getting pretty good. It’s actually a little uncanny.