Well, today I spent three hours at a Toyota dealer.  A man with very bad teeth tried to convince me that Social Security numbers have eight digits, then he asked me how to spell the word "quote."  (Hint to Toyota:  Up your standards.)  The guy who actually sold us the car did a really decent job, though, harried as he was.  *Those who doubt the economy, go to a Toyota dealership -- they are making out like bandits.

And the verdict:  We own a Toyota Corolla.  Yea, verily, we gave up our 17.5 mpg gas guzzling but beautiful Ford Explorer for a cloth-seat, no-moon-roof, fuel-efficient, smaller-carbon-footprint Corolla.  That gets an estimated 35 miles per gallon.

Driving off the lot, I had a moment of angst.  I missed my comfy leather seats. The Corolla is definitely not as posh.  Also, it was weird to be back down on the ground again after a few years of sitting up high and mighty.  I called Pa and told him I was a little weirded out.  "That'll wear off," he said, "the first time you go to the gas station."

And I know he's totally right.

It was maybe a little painful. But the Corolla, which my daughter promptly named "Roxy" after the neighbor's little dog, is now sitting happily in the garage where the albatross SUV used to sit. I think we may actually get my husband's Explorer and the Corolla in the garage this year, AT THE SAME TIME, provided we store our 1974 AMF Puffer, which we bought off my best friend's dad for $10. 

And I'm intensely relieved. I'd say that's my main emotion now. We got almost what we owed on the SUV, which in today's market is unbelievable - we actually got $700 over blue book value for it.  Shocking.  And we got 2.9% financing on the Corolla. Also shocking.  So I think the stars aligned for us. 

Since I've done so much research on this topic, my BlogHer post for Monday will be on this subject. Stay tuned, true believers.

Long live good gas mileage! And Blondie will be so proud, as now her Corolla has a SISTER.

Huzzah.

So after processing a drive to Iowa that culminated in three $70 fill-ups of the Ford Explorer, we're ditching it.  Even though we're a little upside down in our loan.

We're downsizing -- drastically.  Like to a compact for our family car downsizing.  Like to something that gets more than 30 mpg highway downsizing.

Goodbye, swimming noodle at all times in the trunk.

Goodbye, leather seats and moon roof.

Goodbye, third row for when Ma and Pa are in town.

Goodbye, intense guilt about my carbon footprint.

Hello, freedom from the vise that settles around my temples every time I pull into a gas station, which is at least once a week.

Hello, four more years of car payments.

Hello, managing our variable monthly costs in the best way we know how to do.

Last Friday, I attended a green fair at my work and checked out the Honda Fit, among other cars.  I spent the weekend trying to convince my beloved to give up the huge tanker we drive now in favor of something definitely less comfortable and tricked out. Something with FEWER bells and whistles.

He is a man.  This was hard for him.

I enlisted my brother-in-law. Over noodles at lunch on Sunday before we drove home, my brother-in-law looked severely at my husband.  "G," he said.  "You need to embrace the economic realities of our time."

Beloved had been beaten at his own game.

Last night, we test-drove a Fit and looked at a Corolla.  Both are probably half the size of the Explorer and get literally twice the miles per gallon.  Beloved took one look at the 14-inch wheels on the Fit and visibly shrunk a few inches, but he manned up and hid his disappointment. 

We didn't buy anything yet, but we are definitely shopping.  The Explorer's days are numbered.  We'll keep the old one, as it is paid off, and you really can't argue with that.  I can't wait to ditch the one I'm driving, as its huge wheels and vast expanse of space no longer seem prudent for the family of three that doesn't plan to grow any more and the four-year-old who no longer needs a Pack-n-Play, a stroller, to carry her own food and diapers, a carseat the size of a sofa or 6,000 bottles when we travel.

It's time to start getting our lives under control.  This is step one. (cut a hole in the box)
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Need some light summer fiction? Read my review of Emily Giffin's new book at Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.

Beloved and I have two SUVs.  It wasn't on purpose.  I used to drive a 1994 Geo Prizm, blue, stick shift, and I LOVED THAT CAR.  I drove it until 2006, when I got t-boned on Ward Parkway by a much larger car. It bent the axle and totaled the Geo, which turned out to be worth a whopping $800.

I'm still bitter about it, if you can't tell.  Because to me, that car was worth so much more.  It was paid off, it got great gas mileage, and it as the last of the cars I named (Priscilla).  It was Pa's car before it was my car, and I bought it from Pa when I moved to Kansas City in 1998 for $3,000, which I paid for myself.  It's the last car I bought with cash.

So anyway, the "family car" at the time was my husband's 1998 Ford Explorer.  We were certain this Explorer would die a quick death, as we'd already replaced the rear axle to the tune of $1200 and the truck at the time had more than 100k miles on it.  We thought we'd get a new family car, then as soon as Beloved's truck died, we'd get another little Geo-like thing.

Except Beloved's car never died.  It's still kicking at 140k miles a full three years later.

Now trust me, I'm happy about that part.  And shocked that a Ford Explorer could really go that long with no more work since the rear axle, other than the battery my husband changed last weekend. (God, forgive my hubris and do not strike us down with a dead car tomorrow.)  But what to do?  Now we have two functioning Ford Explorers, one car payment, and two years left on a five-year loan that's put us pretty much upside down on the Explorer that I drive.

For a while, we contemplated trading the one I drive for something smaller and more economical.  However, we quickly realized that because of gas prices, nobody wants a used Explorer, and nobody is even going to give us what we owe on it to take it off our hands.

So,drat. I guess we'll have to pay it off, hope the second one lasts, and then make the switch at that point.

Which has me trying to eek out every drop of gasoline.  I used to think only old people griped about gas prices, but when it suddenly costs $120 a week to drive two urban assault vehicles, you start rethinking things.

I work from home as much as I can. I'm fortunate to be an editor, and that's a job that can be done from home.  Usually I work from home two days a week, and I thank my company greatly for it. So that helps a lot, just not having to drive forty miles round trip every day.  But I've also started driving SLOWER, which has Beloved fit to be tied.

Him: "Speed up. People are passing you on the right."

Me: "I'm in the middle lane.  This is the lane for people who need to get over soon but are driving slow."

Him: "Why are you driving so slow?  You're making me crazy."

Me: "I saw on the elevator slide show it saves you 3-5 miles per gallon to drive 65."

Him: "NOT YOU, TOO!  ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

So, you can see how well Beloved takes my conservation measures.  I'm not sure how well it's working, honestly, because we drive my truck on the weekends, which makes calculations difficult. I've also started trying to drive at least to work without the air conditioner on.  I know I'm nuts, but I don't really mind the Midwestern heat as much as a lot of people do. I'm not saying I love it or anything, but I've always found driving with all the windows down to be kind of exciting.  It's like being on a boat or something. This doesn't work out when I have to look good at the end of the trip, but if I'm just going home, whatever.  I'll sweat.  (Check in with me again once we go over 100 degrees more than two days in a row.  I think last summer we had 10 days in a row over 100 degrees, and 100 degrees with 80% humidity = steaming like broccoli.)

Will it work?  Will we survive?  I'm sure we will. But dang, I wish a nice Corolla would just drop out of the sky and free me from 17 mpg and an 18-gallon tank.  Turns out we miscalculated on that purchase.  Live and learn.