In almost 30 years of marriage, my husband, Rich, and I have shared everything.  Contrary to the popular trend at the time, we merged our bank accounts, bought our houses together, enjoyed each others’ bonuses, and shared our cars.  We never had his and hers cars.  We each drove whichever car was convenient or best suited the task.  That includes the leaky Volkswagen Beetle he brought into our marriage.

So when we brought home a new car last week, the assumption was that the same rules would hold.  What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, right?  Well, sort of.  As it turns out, the new car has 1,000 miles on it already, and I’ve driven them all!  Rich has yet to sit in the driver’s seat.  (Okay, so I did take it on my ski trip last weekend – that contributed significantly to the miles.)

I rather like this new car – it’s zippy and a lot more fun to drive than that old minivan.  It has a manual transmission.  We’ve been without one for a few years, and I’m getting back into the groove again shifting gears.  I took it over to my daughter’s house, and the grandkids got to see “Grammy’s new car.”  I even picked the color – red.  It feels like mine.

But I’ve decided to let Rich drive it to work tomorrow.  I don’t want to press my luck.  We’ve done pretty well together for a long time, and I do hope to make our 30th anniversary in May.

Drive carefully, Rich.  I don’t want anything to happy to my new car!