Last weekend was spent doing one of those uber-stressful things: buying a car. We are a one-car family and tend to drive our cars until they die and our trusty Sebring could no longer be trusted so it was time to replace it. For us, a major purchase like this is almost traumatic. We are very careful and have a purchasing style that might drive others insane.

Like the time we spent an entire weeks vacation deciding on the perfect dining room table. Or the time we went to five different stores to compare blenders.

And then there was the vacuum cleaner.

You might chalk it up to good stewardship, but that is probably too noble. At any rate all these purchases were made with strict attention, so you can imagine if it takes us a week to buy a table - well, let's just say buying a car is a really big deal. Pressured by the looming death of our Sebring leaving us "carless," we weathered the stressful gauntlet of various dealerships and salesmen. By Friday night we had narrowed it down to two different options, and by Saturday morning we had decided on a used Element.

But then we looked at the new ones.

We've been married 20 years and have never bought a new car. It was sort of a policy of ours with the whole depreciation thing in the first year. But as we shopped we found that the models that we chose were not depreciating in value to make it worth our while. So following a certain train of logic (reliability + features + cost) this family ended up with a bright shiny spanking new, kiwi-green, Honda Element. Our first new car.

Now one of the reasons we always bought used is a concept called "the kiss factor." (Not the keep-it-simple... This is something else). When my husband was younger he had an uncle who told him that if he ever got a new car the first thing he needed to do was take a hammer and give it a whack, hence giving it its first dent. In other words "kiss" it.

His logic was that if it was already "kissed" then all that fuss and stress over having something new and trying to keep it new would evaporate into practical everyday life. Practical. Sensible. Would I do it to our bright shiny spanking new, kiwi-green, Honda Element? Not on your life.

However the downside that remained without "kissing" our bright shiny spanking new, kiwi-green, Honda Element is that I, in fact did feel a certain weird low-grade anxiety about keeping it new, and that is not our family's style. When we get something, blender, luggage, whatever, we use the snot out of it. But this was a NEW car. And, there were already a number of factors against it staying bright shiny spanking new, kiwi-green. For one, we don't have a garage. And another, the oak trees in our yard throw golf-ball size acorns, which tend to dent cars.

But there was one factor that I had not considered: my sweet husband.

I had driven it home from the dealership Saturday night and then my husband carefully parked it across the lawn (away from the acorn chucking trees). Sunday morning we needed to take the Sebring to that great car lot in the sky (Carmax). The plan was he would move the Element for me and then I would drive it following him (for his last drive in the Sebring). I realized that I forgot my keys.

I run back in the house, grab my keys, and run back outside just in time to see our bright shiny spanking new, kiwi-green, Honda Element with its bumper squared off against a tree.

Yup, you heard me.

In absolute disbelief and a total sense of denial, I look at my husband who was getting out of the bright shiny spanking new, kiwi-green, Honda Element to check the damage. Knowing full well that he had just backed into the tree, I hear myself saying, "You didn't; you didn't?" while feeling something rise up in me.

Now this is one of those pivotal moments that tells you a lot about yourself. Looming on my emotional horizon was a dark cloud of disappointment, blame, and something even uglier. The temptation to place something of material value over a relationship.

Recognizing the moment I snapped out of my "you didn't" chant and looking at my husband's expression of utter disbelief I started to laugh.

Examining the damage, we look at each other and both began to laugh.

"I guess it's been kissed," we said. Now I can relax.