Special Delivery to Oysterville!
Every once in a while, we say to ourselves: “Selves,” (we say) “maybe it’s time to stop driving.” And we discuss alternatives like any right-thinking, totally responsible adults-of-a-certain-age should do. As you might imagine, that conversation took a very serious turn at the time of our recent TooP (Totaling of our Prius). But the reality of our lives always seems to get in the way of the inevitable.
For instance… Our disaster occurred on Tuesday, May 30th. Since then, we have purchased (and minutes ago received!) a new car and have had two rental cars and a loaner from the dealership where said purchase was made. In the meantime, our rental/loaner wheels have taken us to Portland and back five times (doctor’s appts.), to Seattle and back once (for fun) and to Astoria and back three times (a combination of reasons we’ll call “errands”). That’s a lot of traveling in 24 days. 2,842 miles by my count. And that’s not considering any of the usual ‘local’ driving. Nor did I factor in the two round trips to Longview on our car-buying mission…
The Perfect Bumper Reflection!
Part of the problem – probably a good part – is living in Oysterville. Groceries and entertainment, medications and doctors, family and most friends are more than walking distance away. Much more than. Dial-a-ride only goes so far. Pride goes much farther – as in how many people can you bother to take you how far and how often?
Our discussion usually stops at that point. We do not talk about relocating. That’s not an option. Not financially and not emotionally. We get all sorts of ‘good’ advice from (usually much younger) friends. Our children make noises (welcome ones) about being here more often and helping out. We appreciate all of the above. But…
The Old and The New
Our rich fantasy life probably doesn’t help. Like… couldn’t we win the lottery and hire a chauffeur? What happened to the days where there were old and trusted family retainers who lived in and took care of you ‘when the time came’? Such great ideas, but not even remotely related to reality – not in our family no matter how far back you look. Damn!
Our new Forester, being documented by Neighbor Tucker as we speak, is red. I think we’ll call her Scarlett. As in… Oh I can’t think about this now! I’ll go crazy if I do! I’ll think about it tomorrow.
A chauffeur is my dream. I’ll settle for a self-driving car if they’d just get it perfected.