I mentioned the other day that we went to the WV car show over the weekend.  My main purpose was to see the General Lee of course, but we did see a few other cars.  We aren’t immediately in need of another car, but Emily’s ride is 11 years old (but still kicking!).  We decided to just look around and see what tickled our collective fancies.  Emily has been checking out the ads for the Ford Mustang so we decided to take the floor model for a test-sit.  My hindparts fit very well in the passenger seat and Emily looked three kinds of hot in the driver’s seat.  The gas mileage doesn’t look too bad and the price is fairly reasonable (if we get the vinyl seats, AM radio and pass on the air conditioning).  I have always tended towards Corvettes but I can definitely see the four of us cruising to the tastee-freeze in a Mustang.   “Emily is sold on this thing!”, I thought to myself.  I can keep on driving the man-van with the promise of moments of glory here and there!

Something clicked and all of a sudden, my real wife returned.  “How will we haul all 17 of the kids’ friends in a mustang?  What about when I need to haul 16 feet of gutter?  Or what about…”, I tuned out.  Practical smactical.  We still have the man-van.  We can haul plywood and bees and kids in it.  We’ll still take it on long-drive vacations.  We can have the mustang for Friday night date night…though hauling loot from Sam’s might be a challenge in the mustang (that’s Friday night date night at our place).

Well, since my life is not my own, I spent the rest of the evening roaming through the great halls, stunned I suppose, looking at practical, suppository-shaped cargo carriers.  I want my wife to get a mustang.  I don’t need to drive it all the time.  I think she should.  Practical?  Forget practical!