Boys and Their Toys

Husband likes cars. He knows everything about them, where they're made, how they work and if they're reliable or not. 

He also likes to get new ones fairly frequently.

Ok, once every year or two.

Yes, it's expensive.

I'm usually the one holding the purse strings and going "What if we get one that's cheaper than that, huh? Maybe like a Kia or something?"

Did I mention that he also likes the nicest of everything?

Yeah. No Kias for him.

Anywhoozie, he got it into his head recently that his IS 250 was not enough car for him. He had a Tahoe that he traded in for a G35 that he traded in for the IS 250. To be honest, we missed the trunk space. Every time we need to move something, which is way more often that we thought it would be, we have to borrow a car from someone or rent one from Home Depot. It's a time suck and it's annoying. 

First world problems. I know.

When he decided that he was tired of the sedan, I really wasn't all that concerned about getting the new car. Actually, I was okay with it. He was waiting for a fight on how much is was going to cost and how we were going to pay for it and do you think this is a good idea and I feel like we just got the sedan and blah blah blah. (For the record, all of that sounds like the teacher on Charlie Brown to him. It's never effective.) Furthermore, he had never had a brand new car before, and I the idea of that was really exciting to him. 

Thus begins the hunt for what I dubbed The Monster Truck.

Do we need a huge truck? Nope. Do we ever go anywhere where we would use the 4x4? Nope. Do we carry around enough people to need the monstrous cab? Negative. Do we tow things? Nope. Does my husband allow anything dirty in his car ever? Negative again. 

So it didn't make a whole lot of sense. But it made him happy. He spends a whole lot of time doing things to make me happy, and I don't spend nearly enough time returning the favor.

Also, it goes VROOM really, really loudly.

Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the newly christened Monster Truck that, within the last 30 seconds, I decided to call Sully. If you don't get the reference, we're not friends.

Sully right after we got him.

Sully next to Mr. Kite in the driveway.
Yes, my car is named Mr. Kite.
If you don't get the reference, we're again not friends.

The only problem with Sully is that it has renewed my husband's desire to run over idiot drivers, and that comes with a fancy side of panic attack for me. I'll deal, I suppose. 

I'm glad that he's happy, and that I got to help him with that for once. 

My only mistake in this was assuming that when we bought the brand new truck it would have everything we needed. I have since found out that we now need a bed liner and new rims and bigger tired and probably a better paint job because the clear coat on this is just not done well enough and did you know that the paint gets water spots and that is pretty much like the end of the world?

Sigh. Here we go again.

As always, it's hip to be square (and VROOM), kids.