Before the onset of children, my husband sold his reliable red 2003 Ford Focus ZX5 so he could get something bigger, more adult-looking, with more trunk space. He wanted to be able to haul our film equipment more easily, and there were only so many Tetris moves he could do to fit it all in the little hatchback.
And so, of course, we ended up with a bright yellow 2003 Mini Cooper. It met every need on the checklist - except for being bigger, more adult-looking, and having more trunk space. But it looked cool. The controls inside were like a space shuttle. It had leather seats and two moonroofs. The October day we took it home from its private seller, we went for a long drive and dreamt aloud of all the adventures we would take in it.
But first we had to do some minor maintenance. Since it was a BMW product, we had to take it to a special BMW shop. Which we didn't know at first, causing a simple oil change at our regular mechanic to result in a leak. We got that fixed, and a few more things, and we were back on the road. Bob bought cute little Mini Cooper accessories from other enthusiasts and enjoyed his new status of being part of this secret club of car owners.
A month later, we were looking at a positive pregnancy test, then over at the miniscule backseat area, trying to figure out if a carseat could possibly reside there. Around this time, we had to take the car back into the BMW shop for some mystery malfunctions, and we were out another paycheck. But, dang, that car was cool! And so we paid the bill and were back on the road, measuring leg room and evaluating seating arrangements.
And then the Spring came. We had not fully appreciated that two moonroofs with no shades to close in Phoenix would bake us alive. The air conditioning did little to cool it, and we couldn't use music to distract ourselves from sticking to the leather seats because some of the radio wires weren't working right.
As I grew in size throughout the pregnancy, I dreaded riding/roasting in the car and then climbing up out of it. The fact that the car was in and out of the shop so frequently canceled any plans to take it on those vacations we'd discussed that first night. So when I took it to get emissions testing done and heard grinding as I turned the steering wheel, I was ready to just park the car and leave the keys on the seat as they had done on the stinky car episode of Seinfeld.
Eventually, we had to accept the Apostle Paul's sentiment, "'I have the right to do anything,' you say--but not everything is beneficial" (1 Corinthians 10:23). We put the car up for sale. It took several months, but it eventually sold - almost one year to the date we had bought it.
And so it is with relationships, my dating friends. If it's a lemon from the beginning, don't buy it. If you're already driving it, sell it. No matter how cool it looks, if all it does is drain you, you'll just keep dumping more into it and longing for the road trips you will never take.
