Well. I did it.

Traded my beautiful, elegant, shiny, gas guzzling hawg of a Chevy Tahoe for a brand new Honda Civic that will get 40+ miles per gallon if I tone down my driving habits. At 17 MPG, putting 100+ miles a day on an SUV to get to work and back plus run a few errands would just about make anyone with a lick of sense who isn't a gozillionaire weep. Profusely.

I feel like an era has passed.

Is anyone else feeling like this too? (And please don't send me preachy comments about the environment and global warming. I need to do this pitiful bout of wailing right now and I do have a DELETE button, you know.)

The era of driving around in super stupendous luxury, being taller than everyone else on the road, bigger than everyone else on the road, being able to drive wherever the hell I liked, etc., in whatever kind of weather. Not to mention just looking fabulous, absolutely fabulous in that stunning super loaded SUV. I admit, I had the cushy soccer mom thing going on, and I enjoyed the living daylights out of it. Call me shallow, but that Tahoe meant a lot to me, kind of my weak spot, OK?, and I'd waited a long time for my big, fancy car. When I tell this to my dad, he replies that Detroit makes most of its money off of our egos.

Ouch.

Words of wisdom from a man with a big Mercedes Benz and an SUV. But then again he's retired and not commuting.

We still have the trucks. Heck, they are paid for. And we've got to be able to haul hay and horses.

My husband the cowboy just bought himself a Mini Cooper. Cute as button little thing that actually looks like its going to make driving fun, especially when at ~40 MPG you haven't spent every single dime you've got on gas. It's still in Germany (isn't that where they make those BMWs? Bavaria?). Destined to arrive in three weeks. I'm wondering where he's going to put his Stetson. I will have to resist dubbing him the MINI COWBOY.

Even in this state, where I just heard on the radio this afternoon that 70% of us New Mexicans still own our trucks and are loathe to part with them, more than any other Americans, apparently, I still had a hard time getting a little less than the blue book value for the Tahoe until the good folks at Honda Albuquerque made me an offer I couldn't refuse. With the price of a barrel of oil still spiraling up into the clouds, we managed that still palatable deal by the skin of our teeth.

I kept looking at my beloved Tahoe as I was setting my mind to do this awful, unspeakable thing, wondering if I couldn't put solar panels on her somewhere. You know? Or some kind of masts and sails setup to harness the wind and get me going. If I had one more draft horse, I'd just harness them up and pull my gal to Santa Fe. But it's too late. My beautiful baby is gone. I should not admit this, but I hugged her goodbye in the Honda dealership parking lot. I think the salesman was embarrassed. My little girl Jessie hugged her too. (Possibly I have not been teaching my daughter a good thing about being so darned materialistic about an SUV. But then again, you could never accuse me of being uber PC.) And you know what? I don't care. And yeah yeah yeah, the little tiny itt-bitty short Civic is fully loaded and has a sunroof, etc., even a jack for my MP3 player, heck, it's actually very pretty, but I don't want to hear that. I need a little time on this one. You see --

I. Am. In. Mourning.

Sniff. This end of an era thing sucks.

On the bright side, maybe one of these days I'll be riding my draft horse to the office.