200,000 and Counting

Wes and I hold on to cars a long time. We are approaching our 40s and between the two of us we have only owned four cars. In Wes' case, he takes care of stuff. He understands cars and knows how to fix them. In my case, I like to spend thousands on transmissions and other high dollar repairs for the right to drive a junky car.

I'm just wondering as he passed 200,000 miles on his truck yesterday, if there is a point where it becomes cool to own a car that lasted that long. Is it a point of pride, or just plain embarrassing? I don't know but he was proud enough to record the changing of the odometer, while driving of course. (Not advisable.) I'm not generally all that sentimental, but we went on our first dates in that truck. I think I might be a little sad to see it go. But then again I felt the same pang of sadness when I walked away from the car that we brought Jake home from the hospital in. I didn't spend another second after that one thinking about though, so I trust I would get over it quickly. So here's a not so subtle nudge for Wes to replace that no a/c, clutch about to die, hunk of junk truck that fits only one third of our family.