Writing example: If money were no object, what kind of car would you drive?

Question 2

If money were no object, what kind of car would you drive and why?

Answer (400-700 words): If money were no object, I would still drive my Subaru. I chuckle at this, really. Flashback to a few years ago, and you’d see a woman in a business-professional dress trying to climb the rails on her lifted and oversized-tire Jeep Wrangler trying to get home without making a spectacle of myself at the college where I worked. I loved my Jeep days. I came to the rescue of those who were snowed in. I plowed through the muddy roads to get to my favorite fly-fishing stream, and I drove across the country and back with my black lab by my side. That was my brand. I was a Jeep girl. “Jeep hair – don’t care” and all! And then it happened. I changed. 

I moved to coastal Georgia and found myself day after day commuting to work in a vehicle that got 16 mpg. I found myself stuck in traffic on I-95, pushing my foot back and forth from the clutch and the gas inching for a mile an hour. A person can get a Charlie horse this way. I pulled into the faculty parking lot at the high school after traveling 15 short miles on the pavement with the vinyl logo “Extreme Terrain” pasted across my windshield. Suddenly my brands were colliding. No snow to conquer. My dog up and died, like the dog in the Mr. Bojangles song, and I was ready to accept my new fate. I became an on-roader and was no longer an off-roader. And then I decided. Subaru! Yes, I am getting a Subaru! I remembered when I had a Forester when my kids were young and how it hugged the pavement in the wettest, gnarliest conditions. I always felt safe in that car. Yes, a Subaru will do. 

I didn’t even ugly cry when I saw my Jeep in the rearview mirror as I pulled away from the Subaru dealership – new owner envelope on the passenger seat.

I don’t regret it. If money were no object, I would still drive my Subaru. I carry everything on my Subaru. All of my present and future adventures and endeavors rely on my Subaru. My rooftop tent is like a home on wheels; I am like a snail. My fat-tire bikes are on the hitch, my kayaks are ready to float, and the inside mats shake off the ocean sand like it is nothing at all. When it comes to my trips back to Wisconsin, I drive and drive and hardly get uncomfortable; I pop on the seat heater, and I’m solid for a few more hours. When it comes to traffic, I play my favorite Spotify playlist or podcast and enjoy the moment. I feel good about saving money on fuel, too. But most of all, I feel good about accepting the new me. I took a leap of faith; I resisted the change and wanted to go back, but then I moved forward. I’m glad for it now.