We are (very unnecessarily) a two car family. Greg's office is five blocks from our building, while I work only a six minute subway journey from home. There are two grocery stores within one block of our apartment. Most of our friends and social activities are easily accessible by foot or train. Greg and I drive to the supermarket on Mondays, and I take my car for a spin every Thursday to ballet. We take advantage of the cars every few weekends when we trek to Calgary or the mountains. Otherwise my car rests in the garage a lot more than when I was living in St. John's. I have filled up my car no more than five times in the past six months.
When considering our predicament with this cash outlay for transportation that is rarely used to transport us anywhere, Greg contemplates selling his car. A few days ago we considered what options the sale of the car might open up; one of our brainstormed ideas was an antique auto. Greg has had a long-standing interest in the autos of yesteryear, while I am more swept away in the idea of wearing a silk bandana and eating an ice cream cone while cruising about town on a warm summer evening.
I am sure this car would be next to impossible to find, but if it was up to me, we would buy a Fiat Jolly. Isn't this the cutest car you've ever seen?
Greg's pick is more masculine and sporty - a 1972 Porsche.
Sure this is a pipe dream, but it is fun to think about all of life's possibilities.
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