Since 2002 the COG has wanted a Mini, like Sister May's. The best three days of his driving life were the days we drove the Oregon coast in her Mini. He has followed every consumer report about problems, reliability etc of the mini. He has spent many many many hours pointing out minis to The Bride on the road, in print, on tv, and on the internet, while driving his old Subaru wagon into the ground.
Last weekend they looked at cars, because they really need a new one. The COG insisted that they try every possibility even when it was pretty clear that it was down to three choices, none of them the Mini. Finally (and the Bride isn't quite sure how it happened) they found themselves at the Mini Dealer. There was a sale on - one day only.
They left without buying one. The COG became increasingly depressed on the way home. When he got home, he communed with the internet for a while. Finally, a defeated man, having lost all zest for life, he said to The Bride that he thought a Subaru Forester was the best choice. He proposed that she should call the dealer the next day and make all the arrangements. (She could hear an imaginary dirge playing softly in the Soundtrack of Her Life, as he said these words.)
' What about the Mini?' asked the Bride.
'That would be so impulsive,' said the COG.
The Bride looked him straight in the eye and simply said '2002 - 7 years'.
They are now the prospective owners of a dark silver mini clubman, which is on its way from the Port of New York.