“So what kind of car did she get?”
That question gives me fits. The first answer is, “Melissa got a Pacifica,” and then things get tricky.
“Never heard of it. What is it?”
Not a tricky question, or at least it shouldn’t be. But my answer is, “It’s a crossover vehicle.”
“A crossover vehicle. Look, it’s not tall enough to be a minivan, it’s too tall to be a wagon, it’s too car-like to be an SUV, and it seats too many people to be a car.”
“So it’s a what?”
And then I want to throw sharp things at the questioner. But it isn’t their fault. Fact is, I don’t know what kind of car Melissa has. I just know that I like the thing.
Here’s what happened.
If you’ll recall, my bride was in the market for a new car. We’re working on the whole having-a-baby thing (more on that later), and I decided I’d be damned if I was going to have a pregnant woman driving around in a tiny Chevy Cavalier, especially when that pregnant woman is my wife. So we were going to shop seven different cars: the Pacifica, the Dodge Magnum R/T, the Jeep Grand Cherokee, the Jeep Liberty, the Chevy Trailblazer, the Ford Explorer, and the Dodge Durango.
As sharp readers will remember, we immediately ruled out the Liberty