Thank goodness we were only going about ten blocks.
My car has been very, very good to me. I really should write a letter to Dodge, because the Neon is such a wonderful wonderful car. It is roomy, has a good sized trunk, it's fun to drive, and it gets Kyoto Protocol approved gas mileage. And it was very affordable when I got it (when I paid for a quarter of it and my parents paid the rest) in 2001. It is now seven years old and it runs great. I've had very few problems with it, mechanically, except for a small electrical problem with the air conditioner and a weird clutch thing that are both fixed now thanks to Ryan and my dad.
So it is with a little bit of sadness that I admit that my sweet little green car is not working for me as well as it once did. Once the stroller is in the trunk, there is very little room for anything else and the carseat occupies about 40% of the back seat.
It is impossible to put the infant carrier in the base without either smacking your face on the door frame or hitting your head or collapsing your trachea by pinning your neck between the ceiling of the car and the carrier's handle (I've done this many times and I'm sure Charlie could have learned some bad bad words because of it but thankfully you can't actually talk when your trachea is being crushed by a carseat).
After the lunch adventure, I got home to an email from a professor who is moving overseas and is selling all his stuff. One of the items for sale is a very reasonably priced minivan with low-ish miles.
I know what you're thinking. And everyone says they're "not a minivan person" until they have kids and realize how expensive even the smallest SUVs are (and decide maybe they don't want to live out their days eating through a hole in their neck after all the throat crushing).
And oh is it a nice car. It has sliding doors on both sides. And a huge trunk area. And extra seats. And oh geez it's forest freaking green, we would be a living breathing cliche.
I thought I could punk it out a little with some carefully chosen stickers for the back window (and NO, not "My son is an honor student and yours is not. Suckah!"). Ooh and spinners. Klassy.