The Cougarmobile

Recently I've been perusing new cars, and since I have not purchased a new vehicle since the '90's (sad, but true), I find my "auto identity" has undergone a dramatic change. As I move into another phase of my life, I find I don't really know what sort of car defines my new self.

When I bought my last car I was still the young mother of a first grader, which meant hauling lots of other first graders around to local parks and overpriced rodent themed pizza hell holes. Weekend baseball games and weekday practice sessions for sports, music, theater or any other enrichment I felt my child needed. At one point the back of my car was stuffed everyday with a keyboard, music stand, golf clubs, and baseball equipment/uniforms. Actually it wasn't so much for my child's enrichment as it was keeping up with the Jordans. Remember the Jordans of the 90's? Or Dylans, Emilys, or even Hannahs? Jordan's mommy had every moment of Jordan's life ruthlessly over scheduled for his personal enrichment. Plus, she did it all in real pearls and Tod's loafers, with perfectly symmetrical highlights and a flat stomach. She was the mommy that made gluten free cupcakes with frosting made from scratch (no corn syrup or artificial colors). Everything your child did, Jordan did better and so did his mommy.

Douchebag.

This was one of the few good things about moving to Valdosta. The mommies aren't competitive here. I had never seen sugar and peanut butter allowed in a class room until I moved here. Better than that mommies didn't spent the morning in Super Pilates class and then show up at for PTA in Prada.

However, now my child has outgrown all my well meant social maneuvering and can get himself around on his own. He gets his "real" license next week and has promised never to be seen again unless he needs food, laundry services, or money. Or all of the above.

Now you must understand I have been driving a Ford Taurus station wagon all these years. It has been a wonderful and reliable form of transportation, plus I've found I can fit about anything into it. I rebelled against the ubiquitous SUV because I think they are the most pretentious form of transportation ever created. Unless you are Mormon and have a tribe of children, you don't need one. Whenever I see a woman in one, especially one without children, I want to pull her over and thank her sincerely for wasting even more of our planet's resources. There are lots of pretty and expensive cars available that aren't the size of a Bradley tank.

But now it's time to get rid of the mommy wagon and move on to the sexy car. One of my friends has already done this. Her daughter went off to college this fall and she promptly went shopping for a car that she could look hot in. Not hot flash hot, but sexy hot. Which immediately made me want to do the same, copycat bitch that I am. I haven't thought about looking sexy in a car for years. My wonderful little wagon is just a mess these days, and like all older cars, covered with bumper stickers expressing my personal and political opinions. I tend to look more like a homeless person that lives out of her car most of the time, albeit a well dressed one. I've never actually owned a sexy car, but I had lots of boyfriends that did in my wild youth. I guess I was vicariously sexy through their cars. My personal favorite was the Alfa Romeo. I don't actually remember the boyfriend, but the car was gorgeous. I wonder if he was Italian too? Funny, I remember everything about the car....

So this morning I started researching cars for women of a certain age. I hate to use the word "cougar" because it's completely overplayed and horribly offensive to women everywhere. I know on some level this is supposed to be a flattering term, in other words an older woman still sexually attractive enough to get a younger man. But I'm telling you, as a woman that has always had lots of male friends, it doesn't take much to attract a man sexually to you. A full set of teeth is nice, but not necessary. Neither is having all your limbs, in fact that would be a kinky novelty for some. In fact I think we need to give our older male equivalents a name too: Hyenas. Always willing to slink around the outskirts of a pack of women, hoping to pick off one too dumb, young, or slow to get away. Perfect!

Here is the part I don't get about the dating younger men phenomena; why would you want to? I guess because I raised a son I know first hand how truly yucky they can be up close and personal. Does anyone still remember your twenty something boyfriend's apartment? You had to have a tetanus shot just to use the bathroom, plus throw all the pizza boxes (some still containing a slice or two) off the nasty bed. You know, the one on the floor that may or may not have a sheet on it. Here's a cute story: I actually witnessed my first husband and all of his twenty something buddies share a toothbrush one morning after a night of hard partying. They had all spent the night drinking at our house before a wedding. The groom to be was my husband's best friend. I think he might have been last to use the toothbrush. I'm not sure if anyone actually showered. This was a huge society wedding at a well known Atlanta cathedral mind you, not some backwoods shotgun throw down. I never shared that with the bride while standing in her reception line at the Driving Club. Somethings you just keep to yourself. She was a stuck up twat anyway. I actually enjoyed thinking of all the germs swarming around in her mean little mouth.

So now that we can safely say I don't want to attract younger men or hyenas in my new car, that still leaves the question of what sort of car will I feel attractive in? I don't like convertibles because I spend so much time getting my hair to calm down that I can't imagine encouraging it to blow in the wind. You only see white girls in convertibles anyway, the ones with long blonde hair. Think about it, have you ever seen an ethic woman in one? Hell no you haven't. White girls have hair that blows backward for some reason. The few times I've ridden in one, I seem to attract wind shears that blow my artificially straightened locks forward into my lipgloss and eye makeup so that when I emerge from the car I'm blind, smeared and have dreadlocks.

You can rule out minivans too. This is what you get if you don't have enough money for an SUV, but still have kids and equipment to schlep around. However that's not the part that bothers me. Let me explain. I live in a small, rural community with an economy dependent on farming and meth labs. The farming component depends on large numbers of hard working Hispanic laborers. An army of workers transporting their extended hard working clans around in minivans. If I had a minivan I can promise you that the first time I parked it at the grocery store some bitch in a Lexus would be knocking at my window asking me if I wanted to clean her house. You must understand that in South Georgia if you are tan with dark hair and eyes then you are either Eyetalian or Mesican (their pronunciation, not mine.) It's understandable though. Even Latinos mistake me for one of theirs. They see me out and about and get all excited, thinking I can help them translate something. Sadly the only Spanish I have is "margarita sans sal, por favor".

I don't want a big car either, like a Cadillac or Buick. Every senior citizen in my hood is driving a boat sized vehicle guaranteed to kill, maim, and destroy whom ever they pull out in front of. We have lots of these transplanted old Yankees living here, it's cheaper than Florida. One was cruising along at twenty miles an hour yesterday in the left lane and decided to turn right directly in the path of my car so that they could save a penny on gas. I whipped around and pulled into the gas station so that I could end their pointless life before they ended mine and found that even I couldn't cuss out an old person with a portable oxygen tank trying to fill their tank. I only regret that I gave up smoking as I would have loved to flip my butt out the window as I peeled out of there.

My kinder half is coming home on leave in three weeks, so we can car shop together. I'm looking forward to this, as cars are his passion. The prices are good right now and hopefully we will have time to drive to Atlanta and look at cars there too. I've found the local dealers haven't really come down on their prices yet. I was talking to my loan officer at our bank and she agreed with me. She and her husband bought a car last weekend in Atlanta also. Valdosta dealers--take note please.

If you have any suggestions what the fashion forward older woman (not cougar) is driving these days, please let me know. I have a few more weeks to make a decision, though it will be hard giving up the wagon. I have many good memories attached to that old car and some of the happiest years of my life have been spent in it. Though my son has not had to sit in the backseat for years, I still can see a ghost image of his little face in my rear view mirror and I swear sometimes I hear sports equipment clanking around in the back.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva