I bought a car this weekend. It’s a 2012 red Toyota Sequoia Platinum. YES, I tried to buy the green one, but my children mutinied. I already have the vinyl lettering that will go in the back window designed.
You like?? Some of my employees are putting them on their cars, too. Cuz they’re awesome like that.
Anybody love the GSG.com mission enough to want this in YOUR back window? I will probably buy you one….if you write support123@greensmoothiegirl.
People come up to me at gas stations and ask, “Really, you can put green smoothies in your gas tank?” (Several times readers have come up to me and hugged me at gas stations. One time this year, it happened twice in a row while I was pumping my gas, by women who were both named Carrie. This is my favorite thing. Much more fun than explaining to people what I meant by saying my car is fueled by green smoothies.)
Really. No. You cannot pour it in your fuel tank. It’s supposed to be a joke. The green smoothie fuels the driver, who propels the car, see. Haha. Get it?
Owning stuff is not a motivator for me. I had the most amazing weekend, completely unintentionally, and several things made it memorable and fun more than New Car. Won a tennis match playing in a higher division than my own ranking, in the beautiful fall sunshine. Went dancing with Matthew and my girlfriends. Rode the canyon on my bike Sunday afternoon, the trees’ oranges and reds blowing my mind. Had dinner up the canyon with my kids and watched them play soccer till dark. Gave my 16-y.o. and 18-y.o. driving lessons.
That’s the reason I had to buy a new car. Very frankly I could have driven that Honda Pilot another 5 years. Cade (18) is finally getting a driver’s license, at the same time his sister Emma (16) is. I am grieving the loss of all the car time with them. I’m kinda sick of driving Cade everywhere and having no helper-driver, so having them drive themselves will be more convenient. But I have my best conversations with my kids when we’re in the car.
I would be terrified to have my babies out jockeying for road space with other high-velocity boxes of metal-and-glass. But I have an evil plan to make sure they are under perpetual surveillance. I’m replacing the vinyl sticker in the back of my Honda as I hand it over to the kids. Now it will say:
“IF YOU HATE MY DRIVING, TEXT MY MOM. (801) XXX-XXXX.”