Flat-Out Friday: My Official Title is "Lady Who Lunches"

Ah, Friday. When I’m all wound up I can always count on you to be so cathartic. And after my “buying a mom-mobile” experience this week, I can use catharsis.

So MiniSir and I had already planned to get a second vehicle once the time was closer for Sonic to move from being an on-board passenger to a party of one. And I have said since the beginning of our “if we ever have kids” dreamtime that, if it happens, my ultimate Mommy vehicle is a Honda Element. So reliable, so roomy, so durably lined with hard plastic. Even though they don’t make them new anymore, I have had my eye on them for ages.

This week, a 2008 in mint condition with every imaginable feature came up for sale at a dealership, so we went to go look. The colour is officially “root beer”, and even though I hate root beer, I was hooked as soon as I got in for the test drive. Which leads us back at the dealership, deciding how we want to pay for it. Since it was used, there were a few things I wanted to ensure were included, like a Bluetooth capable hands-free phone device and an extended comprehensive warranty. No problem – the dealership took care of both of those for me. MiniSir and I discussed a few options for payment, but since my settlement money was covering this, we decided to be prudent and not just buy it outright. The cost of putting that money into a used car instead of making interest in our investments was too much for us to justify. So we decided to put a chunk down and finance the rest. SEE THAT? That’s us being responsible with our finances. And because we were…

My car suddenly stopped being MY car.

Because, even though I am perfectly well off by myself, I don’t have a job. And banks don’t let you finance anything if you don’t have a job. So MiniSir’s name had to go on the bill of sale as well. I didn’t really mind this, but it was a little irksome, particularly when the financial guy showed us our credit ratings and mine was higher. But whatever. I had a car.

My husband is nice enough to let me drive his Mom-mobile

MiniSir called his insurance company and had them create a policy for me so I could drive it home as soon as possible, so we arranged to pick it up the next day. While he was at work I went down to the Registry to get my plate and register my car, all excited about being a new car owner.

Did you know that if there are two names on the bill of sale the Registry will not let you register the car in just one? Neither did I until I got there. Defeated, I went home to wait for MiniSir so we could go together and register my new car. He was allowed to come home a little early to sort this all out before he left for Wainwright the next day, and together we went back to the Registry to register my new car.

Did you also know that if the insurance policy is under one person’s name, even though the car is listed as the other spouse being the primary driver, the car can only be registered in the name of the person listed on the policy? NEITHER DID I UNTIL THEN.

I had to sign an affidavit letting my husband register MY car in HIS name so that I could go get MY car off the lot. And thus I was no longer the proud owner of a car; I was just the person allowed to drive my husband’s second vehicle.

Here’s what really really REALLY gets my goat. If I had had a job, MiniSir’s name wouldn’t have been on the bill of sale, which would have let me register the car myself as long as I had my own insurance as well. Which I take from society to mean the following: Get a job, keep a job, don’t get married, and don’t have kids. Well done. As one of the declining number of couples who decide to have children, I want to thank you for supporting my husband and I. When your failing public works systems are collapsing, remember all those people that wanted to contribute to the economy but couldn’t because you were just too judgmental.

Meanwhile, I’m gonna go stick girly decals on my husband’s new Element. Excuse me.



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