Sweeeeeede New Ride!

If you read only the first paragraph below, you'd swear my midlife crisis had gotten the best of me ...

I've finally gotten what just about every young man wants: a fast-ass car that accelerates like a TARP-chasing banker, corners like a crit bike, brakes with incredible precision and just begs the babes to dive in the back seat. And it's got a stereo that sounds great whether it's piercing your body and quite literally shaking your bones at quadruple-digit decibel levels or playing mellow makeout music.

Alas, I am not a young man. And no, my midlife crisis hasn't boiled over: The car is my new-to-me Volvo V70XC.

Yup. A station wagon. Oh, and those chicks diving in the back seat? Those are my daughters, clambering to get to the third-row jumpseat. (They also like the integrated booster seats in the back -- er, middle -- row that negate the need for car seats.)

It'll flat-out fly, then stop on a dime. But I told my wife that the best illustration of what I've become was Friday. Yeah, baby! Friiiii-DAAAAY NIIIIGHTTTT! --- and I was blasting Van Halen's "Running With the Devil" -- a pedal-to-the-metal song if there ever was one -- at a deafening volume ... as I gently accelerated my 200-hp 5-cylinder engine to 25 mph on a side street on my way to a church fish fry. If any punkass kids in a Camaro were to smash into me, my car's crumple zones would absorb the impact and my front or side-curtain airbags would safely deploy. Rockin'.

But there's room in back for a dog, or bikes and/or luggage, and room on top for bikes or luggage. (You may tell my wife she has a nice rack. On her car.) And while the gas mileage (not much above 20 mpg) is disappointingly below what I expected, it still is 30% better than the Jeep Grand Cherokee the Volvo replaced -- and better than just about any (ugh) minivan.

And I retain my dignity. In fact, I've actually come to think of station wagons as being cool. Or at least Volvos.

- JN