electric boogaloo

So we did it. We bought the ugliest car we could afford and oh man! I love this hideous little beast car.

It reminds me in spirit of the VW bug from my childhood, which is now parked in my parents’ backyard in a little VW bug doghouse that my dad built for it so the city would shut up about his broken down but otherwise perfectly good car.

The xB is a lot like the original bug: Odd looking, underpowered and noisy but fun as all heck to drive, more headroom than most cars out there right now, your choice of black interior or buying a different car, and a special four-dimensional space-volume feature which allows the vehicle to be much larger on the inside than on the outside, exactly like the phone booth-shaped thing that I don’t know about from that show that I definitely didn’t ever used to watch, sometimes in lengthy marathons, and if you know what I’m talking about you should probably kill yourself because seriously, you are that uncool. Unlike me. Even though I drive this:

Except mine is white, and didn’t come with palm trees in the background. That cost extra.

Having spent two weeks working on this project, I have a few car-buying suggestions for parents.

First. Look for vehicles that are not only safe and reliable, but which have enough leg room in the back that your children won’t be able to kick the back of your seat until they are tall and therefore old/sophisticated enough to appreciate your very real threats to send them to the crappiest college you can find if they don’t cut that out right this minute.

Second Whenever you pull up to a car dealership, be sure and look up the Dutch word for “CAR DEALERSHIP” so you can explain to your baby that this place might look like a restaurant, but it is not a restaurant. Graham was outraged at the terrible service we received. He climbed up to the round “what can we do to get you into a car today?” tables and sat down and said “Foo!”, but food never came. The jerks never even brought our motherfucking menus.

The only place he liked was the Honda dealership because they had pictures of rabbit!s everywhere. The sign outside was like a 40-foot tall stylized rabb-IT!, and all the cars had rabbit!s on the front of them and he thought that was very cool. Plus they had toys and things for kids to play with while the sales guys tried to find out what it would take to get me into a car today (they never guessed the right answer which was “Offer to give me ten thousand dollars if I show you my boobs”).

Third. Children love the thrill of car shopping, hopping in and out of shiny new cars, checking out the exciting sporty models that we aren’t going to buy but still Wow! Cool! A race car!, and trying to help mom and dad pick out their new vehicle for about twenty minutes. After that they are miserable and they hate cars and they hate you and they want to go home. Hire a damned babysitter.

Fourth. From the time you say “Okay. I want to buy this car right here.” to the time you can leave in your new car is about four hours. In small child time, that is several weeks, and remember that by the time the clock starts on the process there’s a good chance that your kids are already starting to hate you because of the car shopping. If you didn’t remember to hire a babysitter, be sure and bring some toys and books to keep them entertained. If you didn’t remember to bring toys and books, at least bring some snacks to keep your children nourished and distracted from how boring and horrible this whole thing is. I ended up having to pretend to take a vehicle for a test drive just so I could run to Arby’s to grab dinner for the kids.

And if you didn’t remember to bring snacks — are you sure you’re smart enough to make a major decision on a vehicle? — at the very, very least for the love of all that is living on this earth bring spare diapers.

Sixth. Seriously. Bring diapers. Oh my God.

Seventh. You THINK that having your baby announce “Poopeeee! Poopeeeeee. Poopeeee diter. Uh-oh. Poopie.” while you’re talking to the manager will help to speed negotiations along. But you’re wrong, it does nothing. Those people grab hold like a pit bull. They have been trained extensively to know that once a customer walks out of their sight – even for a minute to change a horribly foul diaper – they have lost the deal. They’ll smile and keep talking, using their Iceman sales skills to pretend that your baby isn’t clearly signalling a major shit in his pants.

Eigth. If your dealership doesn’t have a changing table, what do you do if your baby’s diaper explodes and begins leaking foul-smelling beige playdoh out of every side? Well don’t worry! I’ve compiled this handy list of cars that are probably on the showroom floor, all of which work great for changing diapers while your sales person waits:

• Honda – There are a few choices at Honda, because their many SUV’s offer the ideal height for diaper changing. I thought about going with the Oddysey minivan because of the handy third row for diaper changing, but then I saw the Element. Its floorboard is covered with a large rubbermaid mat which is designed to be hosed off. Perfect.
• Jeep – Compass, passenger side seat is at the perfect height.
• Mustang – Any vehicle, driver’s seat. Baby can play with the cool horse steering wheel while you change him.
• Lexus – Front passenger seat. You can’t beat heated leather seats for changing a diaper.
• Toyota – The Camry is a little low. Really I’d have to suggest using either the floorboard of the Rav4 or the back bed of the Tundra.
• Scion – The xB includes a changing table in the back. The hatchback also closes automatically with a gentle shove, allowing you to escape quickly from the stench.

But what do you do with the rolled up dirty diaper? This is really up to you. You can run back outside and put it in your own car to dispose of later, however if you’re planning to trade it in I can’t recommend this option because it might affect the value.

You can take it to the nearest bathroom and throw it away. The nearest bathroom is all the way across the floor, down a long hallway, past the financial service office, through the service doors and to the right. Best of luck finding it!

You can hide it in the glove compartments of one of the cars. This is especially funny if the car is used.

You can put it in the trashcan that is underneath the desk of your sales guy. This will help expidite your paperwork a great deal.

So that’s it, all you need to know when you go car shopping when you have kids. Also some stuff about crash tests, carseats, blah blah blah.

Despite our obvious lack of planning and parenting skills, we survived and drove away from the Toyota dealership many hours after the boys’ bedtime. And I have to brag: They were really, really well behaved through the whole thing, much more well behaved than they are being right now while I try to write this post. There was a little bit of running around the Lexus squealing and trying to tickle each other, but I assume that sort of thing is as cute to everyone else as it is to me.

And now! We own a wonderful, roomy, high mileage, super reliable, weirdly loveable, ugly-assed little car. I love it.