Our First Station Wagon

We had a beautiful, sleek, late model car before our children were born. We had splurged, after many years of driving strictly economy models. But, two weeks prior to the birth of our first child, we became very practical and conservative. Sleek and snazzy would have to be traded in for our first station wagon.

Our search began for a modest, little family car, one bright and sunny Saturday morning. We lived in Maryland, near Washington D.C. and a friend had recommended a dealership in the nearby Virginia, so we traveled around the Washington Beltway, in search of a great deal.

The car dealer had a perfect little Pinto wagon for us, complete with all the features we desired. We signed on the dotted line, and were assured it would take just an hour or so to get it ready. This was a milestone in our lives. We were excited!

Well, one hour became two, and then three, and our enthusiasm was dwindling. My ankles were swelling, we were both becoming tired and cranky. “Just give us back our old car,” we suggested, “and we’ll just go home.” Amazingly, the new car was ready and we headed home.

We were barely six miles down the road, when the right front tire on the passenger side of the care blew out. Although the road was partially under construction, my husband was able to steer the car safely to the side of the road. He was furious!! “What if this had caused you to go into labor?!” he raged. Then, he set about changing the tire. I was of little help in my condition, so I just stood nearby, wringing my hands.

Suddenly, we heard a horn honking repeatedly. I was elated. I thought, “Someone is taking pity on this poor, pregnant lady and her frustrated husband, and he’s going to help us out of this dilemma!” I looked up and was greeted with the sight of several bare behinds hanging out of the car windows as it sped by us. I was shocked, appalled, mortified!!! What else could go wrong today?

We returned to the dealership for more waiting and more, somewhat heated, discussions. Finally, we were headed home again. Gratefully, we pulled into our driveway. As I wearily began rolling the window up, it fell right back into the door. It wouldn’t budge. I began to cry.

My husband shepherded me into the house and told me to take a nap. He drove back to the car dealership alone, for more waiting and even more heated negotiating. They gave us a loaner car for the weekend, and we prayed it was not a lemon, too.

We got our Pinto back on Monday, and surprisingly enough, it turned out to be a pretty reliable little car.