...wait. I did not succumb (although what a perfectly nasty word to fit the situation,) I fell. I toppled. I lapsed. I busted my ass in the mud.
After 25 years of driving what amounted to essentially the same Volvo, same make different year, I bought an SUV. I SWORE I would never drive such. I ridiculed women who plodded around in my mother's station wagon reinvented. I zipped around in my super-safe lightweight foreign car, secure in my superiority.
And then I fell off the wagon.
Bought a Honda Pilot. LOVE this car, like...LOVELOVELLOVE this car. Extra L in there for emphasis. I love this car.
Which is all fine and dandy. I've gone from me and one kid to...two large kids, a large me and a large Big Boy. We are officially The Large Family. This car is much better for Large Soccer Trips and Large Tennis Trips. I can live with this.
Except, y'all. Oh, y'all. Yesterday? I'm riding down the road, all Large and everything and pull up to a red light next to another mid-size SUV and I glance out the window and without missing a BEAT, thought to myself, "Mine's bigger than your's." Thought it rather smugly, too, I might add.
I am ashamed. So ashamed. It took me less than a week to fall and people...I'm still scrabbling down the hillside. Just make sure? I ever mention getting a C...what is that license? CLV or something like that? For driving big trucks? Someone just slap me. I KNOW my limitations ;-)