Truly I dislike automobiles. 
Expensive, dangerous, finnacky, designed by heathens, and done so without skill or taste for decades now.
But, indeed, I could not live without a car. Ideally I’d like to have two of them before too long. But truly I am working quite hard to build a life with as little car in it as possible. I try to have friends over (bless you, dear readers), and I’d like it if Roby’s school were within walking distance. Since Twinfield is both a bad school and something of a drive, I suppose then I must build my own.

But still, there are groceries to consider. And grandma’s house, and concerts, and the CSA, and church. We’ve got to go to those places with some frequency, and we enjoy it, too. I’d like to enjoy the getting there bit as much as the being there bit, as far as that’s possible. Roby hates time in the car, and rightly so, she’s locked in backwards and she’s small and she can’t control the music or really know how long it’ll last.

Does that mean we should get a super fast car to reduce the time in? Likely not, that’d be dangerous. So a comfortable car, then. Something with decent mileage, I suppose. Something safe, too.

It’s too much to think about and it’s all in conflict with itself. I just want something that doesn’t feel too bad to be in and Roby likes.

Really, a nice car is pretty far down my heirarchy of needs. I’d have to be obscenely rich before I got something more than a used mini-van. Hell, even those are a considerably more dear than I might have guessed earlier than this week.

Maybe I can get a ducky hood ornament or some vinyl that says hello on it.