I’m just going to throw this out there and clear the air. We bought a Bayerisch Motoren Werke. If you’re like me you don’t know what in the world that means.
It’s a BMW.
That’s right. We traded our 2001 Saturn SL2, no air conditioning, no power windows, torn fabric seats, for a gol-darn BMW.
It’s not like we took things gradually, you know? Maybe started with a nice Nissan, then maybe a Toyota, and then golly gee maybe we should try one of those nice luxury cars.
It was more like BOOM. You are now being ushered from the depths of car hell to the furthest reaches of automotive celestial bliss. For Tyler it’s about the engine. Many times in the last week my stomach has dropped, my skin stretching across my face, because of the quick acceleration (it’s not a matter of speeding, rather, how fast you reach the limit).
For me, it’s the leather. It smells so good. Like riding around in a five star hotel.
I’m terrified of it, though. Terrified I’m going to crash it. Or scratch it. Or breathe on it. This car is not going to be a peppy little buddy. More like a rich, distant uncle around whom I am constantly uncomfortable.
Mind you, we are not Bill Gates. We saved for a long time and bought a car that was lovingly cared for and traded in for a brand new Mercedes.
My first thought when I saw it was “I feel so sorry for this guy’s kids.” I can guarantee they were not allowed within 15 feet of it.
How do I know that? Pretty much the dynamic being established around here.
Cute, yes. Messy?