After a lengthy debate, Joe and I agreed that a minivan would be our best choice in shuttling three small children. My criteria: automatic doors, leather heated seats (lovely on my aching lower back), and a DVD player. Simple enough. This meant Joe spent months combing through ads, reading reviews and visiting local car dealers and private sellers to find just the right one. And, finally, the week after Christmas, he brought home our 2006 Honda Odyssey.
But that meant it was high time to sell our ratty old Honda Civic. It's been well used. Joe and I bought it shortly after we got married almost ten years ago and put 200,000 miles on it. It looks like a messy mom with two little kids ride in it every day (poptart crumbs abound!) Luckily, it was very easy (TOO easy?) to find a buyer. My dental hygienist saw me getting into the Civic after an appointment and followed me out to quiz me on the pros and cons of the Honda Civic. I mentioned we were selling it, she asked a price and I came up with one. How did I come up with this price? Did I do any research? Did I query Blue Book? No, I just pulled it out of thin air.
The price, I guess, was insanely low and she happily agreed right away.
Joe, on the other hand, was less pleased with the deal. I guess he'd already negotiated a better price with a different buyer, but when I brought up that this woman would be working on our teeth for the forseeable future and I'd hate to go back on our deal, he agreed that we should just move forward.
He did request that I never sell another one of our vehicles again, bringing up the time I sold his Jeep without asking him. In all fairness, the Jeep needed a ton of work and burned up a disproportionate amount of our meager income in grad school, so when his uncle expressed interest and asked about a price, I said, "How about a pack of gum?".
Anyway, we sold the Civic for a song.
Which meant that we needed to get all of our crap out of it and get it off to its new owner. I thought we'd unstrap the carseats, throw out some trash and be back inside in about 5 minutes.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bigger project...more like an archaeological dig. We kept uncovering layers of toys, school projects, immunization handouts, fruit snacks, empty juice boxes, PopTart wrappers and smashed Cheerios.
Joe, as usual, did about 90% of the work since his wife can't really bend around her belly. I entertained the kids, who were thrilled to take a pretend drive to "Africa" and sit in the front seat--quite the novelty in this day and age of eternal carseats and airbag warnings.