Cars

We've finally bought a car. And of course it's the obligatory sports utility vehicle (SUV), i.e. a vehicle originally designed to transport heavy tools converted into a vehicle that can transport heavy people, though in our case it's more a school run-mobile masquerading as a truck so that we're the same height off the road as everyone else.

If you've ever bought a car in the States, you'll know what an administrative headache it is, because you can't buy or lease a car unless you have a US "driver's license", which means retaking a written and driving test (unless you have a German licence, which you merely swap for an American one). Only you can't apply for a driving licence without a Social Security number, and you can't apply for a Social Security number until you've been in the States for at least ten days. From start to finish, the whole preparatory process can easily take six weeks. Oh, and did I mention that you can't take possession of your car until you provide proof of insurance for that vehicle?

The other problem with car-buying in the US is that the brands are completely alien to most Europeans, so you spend weeks finding out what the difference is between a Chrysler, Saturn, Buick, Acura, Ford, Chevrolet, Isuzu, Mercury, Lincoln, GMC, Infiniti, Dodge, Jeep, Pontiac, Oldsmobile, Hummer, Cadillac, Lexus and all the other weird and wonderful makes of car that they have over here and seemingly nowhere else. Even if you go for a Japanese or German brand, you'll find that the models are completely different here, where they're mainly larger, less fuel-efficient, uglier and with far fewer safety features (think air bags, crumple zones and their ilk) than in Europe. And the bumpers - oh, the bumpers! - are merely moulded plastic that you can push in with your fingers. (Protection? Who needs that junk? Just buy another!).

Anyway, having got all the paperwork together, chosen a brand and model, and more-or-less negotiated the price with the dealer (everything is negotiable in the US, and if the rumour is true, the only ones who don't haggle are the Germans), I said I'd think about it and consult my wife, joking that she might object to something silly like the colour. When I got home and proudly announced that I'd finally found us a car, my wife's only question was, "What colour is it?"

This story does have a happy ending, because my wife has almost completely recovered from the shock of owning a white car. She even told her female colleagues at work about it last week - their response was, "What colour is it?" - though she was thrown when her (male) boss asked what make of car it was.

"I don't know," she replied. "I only know it's a white one."