Pontoon Boat

Abe finally got his new company car, his first since 1984. In the shitstorm that was 2008, he was supposed to get a Toyota Highlander Hybrid in November. But on the ship, the container that held his car caught fire and they dumped it in the middle of the Pacific Ocean to prevent the fire from spreading. This event was a mere blip on our disaster radar that year.

It’s taken this long to get another, since all hybrids are sold before they ever leave the factory these days. It’s opalescent white and fancy-schmancy and beautiful.

That means Ben gets my old Bonneville and I get the minivan. I’ve had it for one day and I hate it. But I knew I would. I managed to raise two kids to semi-adulthood without one; I do not want one now. Oh, it’s nice enough, I suppose: a Town and Country with Stow ‘n Go® seats that are pretty cool. But I am so not a minivan owner, which puzzles my husband no end. He likes it.

Once when my brother rented a pontoon boat for our families for the day, Ben watched jet skis and motorboats tooling by and moaned that we were on the minivan of boats. That comparison works both ways: I’m driving the pontoon boat of cars.

I loved that ‘94 Bonneville. She isn’t pretty, but boy she has heart. Tell her to go and she says “How fast?” That 3800cc engine lives forever; not so the rest of the car (especially if you rear-end a truck on the ice in winter). She's had her one missing eye replaced but she still has no teeth and will not get them. Her red paint is beginning to oxidize and the leather interior is cracking. She’ll be a great teen car.

My goal now is to find myself a speedboat convertible. Since I have had only three cars in my life—keeping each for a minimum of ten years—I figure this is my last chance to get a fun car. I start looking next week.