I didn’t want him to trade his convertible in on a new car. It didn’t make sense because we were going to need two cars at some point and I have no issue with him picking something out for me to drive later. He loves that convertible, too, and we’ve had a lot of fun in it, taking long rides while the kids are in school. I was outvoted, though. He doesn’t make unilateral decisions very often, but Rachel keeps pointing out to him that if it had been his little car involved in the accident the outcome would have been very different. He made the decision before I was out of the hospital.

So he’s out right now going through the headache of buying a new car and getting rid of his toy, not because the idea of being in an accident in it bothers him, but because his little girl is afraid every time he gets behind the wheel of it. I don’t know what she’ll do the first time his gets on his motorcycle, but I know we’re not giving those up.

The thing is, as much as he’s loved that car I doubt he’ll have regrets, because that’s just the way he is. I have a feeling he’ll come home in a tank, just to make the kids feel better and I won't hear a complaint until he realizes how bad the gas mileage is.