Back in my younger days, I had a sports car with twin turbos. There was nothing I loved more than taking the t-roofs off and, with the wind blowing through the car, driving like my hair was on fire. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a car that was built for a shorter person. My then-fianc\u00e9 hated the car. He hadn\u2019t mastered the art of looking through other cars’ windshields to catch oncoming traffic before pulling out. I was short enough to do that, and my feet are small, ideal for the cars of that time. Somehow, the smaller the pedals, the faster the car. It was a smooth, standard H-stick shift that gave me a sense of power as I ramped up to 5th gear. The smile never left my face. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until the day we sold it for a \u201csafer\u201d family car. I couldn\u2019t bear to do it, but I think my fianc\u00e9, now husband, took a little joy in seeing that car go. I stood at the window watching the final details of the deal go down, then had to turn away before the new owner drove it away. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn’t want to lose myself completely in a family car. I couldn\u2019t bear the idea of going from a sports car to a minivan. Instead, I opted for the SUV with a V8\u2026 you never know when you might need it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Like, the time I was provoked into a race from the freeway on-ramp. I am not sure why some whippersnapper would want to race a \u201cmom\u201d car, but I couldn\u2019t pass up a chance to teach a lesson. After all, isn\u2019t that what moms do? Besides, I needed to preserve our family\u2019s honor. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He revved his engine, and I returned it with a side-eyed smirk and a disapproving shake of my head. He grinned back with a condescending nod as if to say you can have a head start. He didn\u2019t count on my lead foot and mistook the quiet purr of an idling V8 for something less. The light turned green. The freeway was empty. My engine roared to life, happy to be off its leash. I giggled as I took off, and my young boys cheered me on from the backseat. Once I hit the freeway, it took a couple of minutes before he disappeared from my rear view mirror, and not for his lack of trying. Lesson taught. Family honor preserved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was one of the few times since getting the \u201cMom car\u201d that I was smiling again. In the ensuing years, I won a few more races. I have no idea why SUV Dads like to race me, but again\u2026 lessons, family honor, and field trips were a little more fun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then it came time, the car was past its midlife, and the boys were in college. It was time to reclaim me. I could feel the restlessness in me. I wasn\u2019t about the PTA meetings, the potluck cupcakes, or the \u201cmom\u201d coffee outings. I was looking to do something different, yet indifferent to everything. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t know if it was a midlife crisis or a crisis at all. I think it was another life transition, but not one that comes with gifts and an exciting future. It is one that reminds you that life is no longer starting for you. You are not a young person, but an older, experienced person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
While I would love to say I took all my experience and battle scars and marched into the next phase of my life, I didn\u2019t. I felt displaced. A transition that isn\u2019t always portrayed in a positive way. The instinct seems to be to reach back into your past before kids. Car choices seem to be the easiest, most tangible way to signal that transition. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My car choice was still reflecting that oh-hum stuck feeling. I still wasn\u2019t ready to part with my \u201cmom car,\u201d yet it needed to be retired. I couldn\u2019t find anything I was interested in until my \u201ccar guy\u201d son came running down the stairs on New Year’s Eve morning. \u201cI found the perfect car for you, Mom! A white hard-top convertible with some upgraded features. It wasn\u2019t a V8 or twin turbos, but it had upgrades that made it faster than the standard ones, and apparently, the \u201cbest engine\u201d ever made. It wasn\u2019t the sports car of my youth, but I am slowing down a bit\u2026 sometimes my hair isn\u2019t on fire. The irony of it being New Year’s Eve wasn\u2019t lost on me either!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I love my car; every time I look at it in the garage, I feel joy. There is something about its lines, beautiful whether the top is up or down. My older sons jump at the chance to drive it, and even my husband, who didn\u2019t like the lowness of my sports car of the past, loves showing up in this car. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Funny how things change. I am not sure I have the heart to say I want my SUV back. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I spent years in a V8 ‘mom car’ preserving family honor and teaching whippersnappers lessons at red lights. Now the kids are in college, and I\u2019m navigating that restless, displaced feeling of a life transition that isn\u2019t always portrayed in a positive way. It\u2019s a reflection on reaching back into the past to signal who you are when you aren’t quite ready to part with the life you\u2019ve known.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":111203969,"featured_media":9984,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","_crdt_document":"","advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_kad_post_transparent":"","_kad_post_title":"","_kad_post_layout":"","_kad_post_sidebar_id":"","_kad_post_content_style":"","_kad_post_vertical_padding":"","_kad_post_feature":"","_kad_post_feature_position":"","_kad_post_header":false,"_kad_post_footer":false,"_kad_post_classname":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"fullscreen","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false,"token":"eyJpbWciOiJodHRwczpcL1wvdGlkYml0c2FuZHdoYXRub3RzLmNvbVwvd3AtY29udGVudFwvdXBsb2Fkc1wvMjAyNlwvMDRcL3Y4LWluLXRoZS1mYXN0LWxhbmUtMTAyNHg1NTkuanBnIiwidHh0IjoiVGhlIFY4IGluIFRoZSBDYXJwb29sIExhbmUiLCJ0ZW1wbGF0ZSI6ImZ1bGxzY3JlZW4iLCJmb250IjoiIiwiYmxvZ19pZCI6MTE3MzkxMDIzfQ.PzSmuweAv5Cfp8t6Jf3gkN3MEufS7gP-3LLxNwpY47gMQ","image_type":"featured","custom_text":""},"version":2,"media_source":"featured-image","attached_media":[{"id":9984,"url":"https:\/\/tidbitsandwhatnots.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/v8-in-the-fast-lane.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}]},"_wpas_customize_per_network":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[779323134],"tags":[779323320,779323318,779323319,779323321,376,779323322],"class_list":["post-9981","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-commentary","tag-cars","tag-columnist","tag-famiy","tag-hair-on-fire","tag-humor","tag-life-transitions"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/tidbitsandwhatnots.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/v8-in-the-fast-lane.jpg?fit=1408%2C768&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7WyLB-2AZ","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":7625,"url":"https:\/\/tidbitsandwhatnots.com\/?p=7625","url_meta":{"origin":9981,"position":0},"title":"Sunday Shorts","author":"Tidbits and Whatnots","date":"April 13, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"Self-care isn\u2019t always pretty\u2014and it definitely isn\u2019t always Instagram-worthy. 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