I bought a truck. No, not a pick up. Not a mid-sized, econo-truck. And I didn’t even LOOK at station wagons or hatch backs.
I bought an SUV. A big, honkin’ Ford Explorer. For my dog. Luckily, the truck is black, so it matches the dog.
I tried to be conservative. As a matter of fact, my initial thought when I realized I needed a real car was “Volkswagon Beetle.” But the dog weighs about 70 pounds at 10 months. And he could aquire a “friend” at the end of the summer.
So my vehicle choices kept getting bigger and bigger, until the next thing I know, I’m driving a roving land mass. It has its own zip code. I can’t park it yet. It barely fits in my garage.
And do you want to know how bad I really am? I LOVE IT! It’s huge and comfy and everything fits in it and it’s MINE! The dog LOVES it. He must have inherited a “truck gene” because he knew exactly what to do. He hopped in the back and sat there sniffing the breeze. He was happy and quiet.
He did not jump all over me. He did not throw the vehicle into reverse in his excitement. He did not break or rip anything or hurt anyone. It was amazing!
Plus, I went to get a big bag of dog food. I put the dog food in the back seat. I put a case of diet soda behind the seat. I put the dog in the back. Everyone was still comfy and happy! What a luxury!
The gas mileage? Really not that bad. I’m so happy with my guilty pleasure!