Car Madness, the end...or at least it better be

On October 5th or 6th, can't quite remember which at this hour, someone smashed the rear end of Big Mama Fuss (my minivan, I've finally chosen a name, a name I was reserving for a Mastiff, but Dearest threatened to revolt and overthrow my tiny despot nation if I ever named a dog that). We have a security camera in the office and I caught the scene in the corner of my eye. Someone smashing BMF at a million miles an hour and then taking off. I ran outside in the rain, in my socks to try and get the plates and checking to see if some creep really did smash my car and take off. By the time I get out there, they're at the end of the street and I'm not that slow, they were just going that fast!

Anyhow, blah, blah, blah rental cars, insurance reports, police reports, seething cursing and crying, we got the final information from the officer handling our case. The car was stolen and they're going to try and lift some prints. I'm not holding my breath since I figure Toronto CSI has more pressing things than a stolen Sienna and a smashed Odyssey.

Last week I was driving a Dodge Caravan. I didn't like this car for many reasons, it was hard to handle, wider than my van, the seats were too high, they didn't adjust to my liking, they weren't power seats, they weren't heated (a lot of my complaints revolve around my tush...strange). My biggest complaint was that there were no power doors. *Le gasp!* To which my friends all rolled their eyes...those who didn't have power doors and thus who haven't been spoiled by not having to haul open a car door with three kids. It's a freaking thing of beauty people!!!

Big Mama Fuss, you are my everything. You are the mom of cars. You know how tired I am, your heated seats take care of my poor beaten lower back. You open your doors at the touch of a button so my kids can scramble safely inside you. Even your tailgate opens. I love it! Your insanely complicated computer challenges me when I turn on the heat, which probably isn't a good thing, but I love the fact that you don't smell like cheap men's cologne, so I'll forgive you. I especially love that I can kill Dearest's crappy music from my steering wheel and he can't do a thing about it! I griped and moaned when I had to give up my little Black Pearl CRV and begrudgingly accepted you into my life, but now I know just how good I have it, and if someone else smashes you, I swear I will hunt them down and in true despotic nature, go postal, like only a mother of 3 under 5 can on their candy behinds! All for your honour!