So, once upon a time recently, we bought a station wagon...after driving almost to Dallas to look at said station wagon, vowing to NOT purchase it on that trip. We intentionally did not drive the car we'd be trading in, so that we wouldn't be tempted to make the deal that night.
We made the deal that night. And Trent drove back the next day and handed over his turbo charged Subaru WRX for a turbo charged, diesel VW Jetta Sportwagen (with an e). He has been singing Andrew Peterson's "Family Man" ever since.
Driving back from almost Dallas that night late (goodness gracious buying a car takes forever), I had the following text conversation with my baby sister:
Me: So we, uh, kinda sorta bought...a station wagon...
Abby: BAHAHAHA WHAT??!?! You mean one of the old school, wooden sided swagger wagons?
Me: Noooo. But now it will officially be named the Swagger Wagon.
I read the conversation to Trent and promptly added that I shall call it Mick Swagger. In our sleepy, almost home, being-an-adult-is-tiring-sometimes state we decided Mick Swagger Wagon was the most perfect, most hilarious name ever in the history of station wagons and laughed so hard we were no longer sleepy.
Therefore, I introduce to you, Mick Swagger:
Mick is a TDI wagen (with an e, remember) that gets 42 miles per gallon, has lots of cargo and backseat space, and will supposedly run till the end of time since it's diesel. Two thirds of the roof is glass, through which Brother stares and says "whooaaa". The VW key flips open from the push of a button, making me want to say "on guard" and start a VW key sword fight. Finally, Mick came with Yakima cross bars on top, juuuuuust right for toting home Brother's new crib.
So there you have it. Another chapter in the story of our transformation into hipster parents trying to change the world through foster care and clean diesel.