You say 'Car', I say 'Clifford'

I was out and about yesterday when I noticed an SUV I hadn’t really paid attention to before. It was an FX35. Red. It looked like the head of Clifford the Big Red Dog.

I called my husband from my cell, my husband is THE car guy… he knows every car that has been out there, is out there now, or is prototyped, and said, “Who makes this FX 35?”

Husband: Infiniti. I think it’s a sharp looking SUV.

Me: Oh, I see one here. It’s red. It looks like the head of Clifford the Big Red Dog.

Husband: Well… I wouldn’t get it in red.

Me: Good. It has a big nose.

I’ve never been a car kinda gal. Cars are a functional tool for me. They get me from Point A to Point B and the higher the gas mileage and the bigger the herd of kids I can fit into it the better. I’ve never needed flash although I often tell people if money was no issue, the Lexus convertible looks like it would be fun to drive. Can’t fit car seats in the back of one of those suckers. And yes, my ego did take a bit of a hit when I started to drive my mini-van… nothing screams Asexual Mom more than a damn mini-van. Honestly… I’d rather drive a truck. A pick up truck to be exact. But that’s just me.

He’s always known this. This is something we don’t understand about each other… although it is not an issue. He carries on about the new sports car so-and-so is making and I listen, but don’t file any of the data away. I can honestly say my eyes have never glazed over. I’d personally rather learn how to tear one apart, rebuild an engine, than get into driving any of the cars he talks about. But… that’s just me.

One of the favorite stories highlighting our differences in vehicles happened about 12 years ago. We were at a convention for his profession in Orlando. A bunch of us were going out to dinner and sitting in the parking lot was some new fangled BMW 850ci with some woman just sitting in the driver’s seat.

My husband says, “So what do you think of THAT car?” To which I replied, “What is that? A Saturn?” Dumbfounded he laughed out loud and said, “NO! Babe! That is NOT a Saturn. That’s a BMW 850ci. It goes…” and on and on he went on speed and specs. Finally he said, “Man. I wonder what that woman would think if she knew that someone mistook her $60,000+ vehicle for a Saturn. Geez.”

Heh. And just to let you know what an impression this story made upon him… I can never remember what kind of car it was that I mistook for a Saturn, only remembering it was a BMW. As I was writing this post, I walked into the family room and said, “Hunhead, what was the name of the car I mistook for a Saturn” and without EVEN TURNING from the TV he says, “BMW 850ci”.