Want to get a response from your big brothers? Send them this picture with the caption, “Look what I got for Christmas!” As soon as this picture hit their cell phones they were calling to find out how their sister rated such a prize. Never fear. I did not buy my teenage daughter a car for Christmas, much less a Christmas red Mustang. I did let her pull her brothers’ chains a bit.
When we went to Memphis I arranged for a rental car. I requested one of the small compact cars along the line of the Chevy Cobalt. When I arrived at the Avis desk my express reservation was waiting. I quickly signed the papers and headed out to the assigned spot. Instead of the infinitely more practical compact model, I found this red Mustang. My daughter was giddy at the sight. I am not sure why I had been “upgraded” to this sporty ride, but since it wasn’t costing any more I figured we would enjoy the treat.
Let me tell you, I have now firmly concluded that my Mustang days are over. For fifteen years I drove a minivan. About three years ago I downsized to a Prius. I am very happy with my Prius. It is comfortable, practical, and a joy to drive. But maybe I needed a little adventure. Wouldn’t I be a cool mom cruising around in a car that made teens drool? I got into the Mustang and I felt like I was sitting six inches off the road. The car is heavy and drives like a truck. I was so embarrassed when I made a left turn out of the parking lot and the tires squealed as I burnt rubber. Who knew such a little pressure on the accelerator would produce so much power? Rather than being exhilarated by such horsepower, I was terrified. After a few trips to the soccer fields, I learned to moderate the acceleration, but I always felt like I was sitting on a rocket ready to launch. I guess if you are testosterone laden enough or young enough to enjoy the thrill of such uncertainty, this would be a fun car to drive. I, on the other hand, have obviously passed the state of living on the edge and prefer greater MPG’s to greater horsepower.
Therefore, much to the chagrin of my youngsters, a red Mustang will not be on my Christmas list this year or probably any other year. But maybe I’ll live a little dangerously and my next Prius will be red.