End of an Era

Nick and I have been toying with the idea of buying a new car for a while.  As you know, we're slow movers.  Technically there's nothing wrong with the car we have.  It's paid off.  It drives.  It's good on gas.  Perhaps it's been described by others as a coffin with wheels.  And perhaps only Nick can drive it.  I look at that as a benefit.  Wherever I go, he has to go.  And who doesn't want to spend extra time with her hubby? 

At least I felt like that until this happened this weekend:

I had a large box that needed to be shipped.  It was too big for one of us to carry to the post office.  So Nick brought the car to the house and tried to load the box in it.  It wouldn't fit in the trunk.  It wouldn't fit in the back seat.  It would only fit in the front seat with the seat lowered all the way back.  So I sat in the back, contorted like a pretzel, fearing for my life all the way to the post office. 

Farewell two-door sporty coupe. You were great for a bachelor.  But you and I are officially done.  Mid-size SUV?  Yes, please.