Driving an Old-mobile…

Until we moved to Denver seven years ago, I had never owned a car.

Wait, I take that back.

I drove my parents ancient ’80 Chevrolet Cavalier the last five months of my Senior year in college.  It was on the edge of reliable, overheating when the Texas temperature reached over 85 degrees.  I quickly learned how to adapt to zero air conditioning, and became adept at recognizing when my car was about to boil over so I could crank up the heat to avoid blowing up my engine.

Dwelling in NYC, it wasn’t necessary to own a car, and the bus system in graduate school did the job for me, so I never needed secure transportation until we moved to Colorado.

My first automobile, a Volkswagen Jetta, was practical and compact and let me zip around town without feeling like I was driving a land yacht. However, it performed horribly on icy roads, and since I was carrying precious cargo, when it came time to renew the lease, we turned it in for my husband’s company car, a Toyota Prius.

The Prius? Very cute.  And efficient.  I loved how I hardly ever had to fuel up.  And I felt like patting myself on the back every time I got in, as if I alone was saving the environment by driving a hybrid.

But again, it slid around on ice and snow worse than a greased monkey on a slip and slide.

So a couple of summers ago, after much shopping around and vehicular deliberation, I chose my adorably sporty Toyota Venza.

It had everything I was looking for in a kid taxi.  It was substantial enough where I felt like I wasn’t going to get crushed in it, yet small enough for my height-deprived viewpoint to feel confident in parking it in our garage.  I could get all-wheel drive so that I would feel safer in snow and ice.  And it looked hip enough that I didn’t feel like I was driving a station wagon.

And then, Toyota changed up their marketing.

About six months after we purchased it, Jon and I were watching television and saw our first commercial for the Venza.  In it, they show some parents, out living it up with high-octane adventure excursions or big nights on the town, while their kids are at home ranting about how concerned they are that their parents have lost their quest for adventure, their hipness, their will to live.

And then you see them.  The Parents.

Empty Nesters.

Driving MY CAR!

Seriously?  Did I really just purchase a car that was being touted as THE car for the AARP circuit?

Here I was, thinking that I had dodged the Colorado mom-mobile bullet that is the Subaru Outback, and now? My beloved car, the one that still smelled new inside, was being advertised to folks way older than my demographic.

Had I really gotten that old? Did I really have that questionable of taste? Did I just lose my street cred?

Even now, a couple of years later, I take cold hard looks at the other drivers of Venza’s I see around town.  Except for the other parent at school that drives one, all the other drivers of my automobile are pushing 60. And over.

So I ask you, does this car make me look old?