Gary and I were talking today about the Mini, and the Fit, and our future car situation. I'm a big believer in fixing cars until the metal wears out; he thinks cars turn into pumpkins at ten years old. The Mini is ten. It's the one sitting in the garage with the blinky dashboard lights.
I mentioned today I might have cooled my rage at Mini enough to have it fixed two weeks from now.
Essentially what I said was, "Lets send the Mini to the doctor," and Gary heard "Let's put the Mini in hospice." Within minutes Gary was online shopping for a used replacement. Then he proposed buying a new one because of the low interest rates. (Of, course, given how Gary shops for cars, it will take him a year to make up his mind.)
But seriously, I said my car was sick, he euthanized it within five minutes. "Hey!" I said."Settle down! What about your car? Your car's almost ten years old."
He said, "Oh, when my car goes we won't replace it. We'll have just one car."
"Okay then,"I said, "Let's see if we can't get the Mini to work for the next five years, then we'll buy a new car and that will be our retirement car."
OUR RETIREMENT CAR. As in: I am making plans for retirement.
Of course, I suppose our retirement car shouldn't be a Mini, it should be whatever high-tech hydrogen-powered car they have five years from now. A hydrogen car is about as realistic as thinking I can get another five years out of the Mini.