In what could be a new record even for me, last week, I sold my Scion XB. I bought the car in October of 2010, and sold it the last week of Februrary, 2011.

I’ve always had a thing for boxy hatchbacks. For a few years back in the 1980s, my Mom drove a Toyota Tercel wagon; maybe that’s what planted the seed. Although I never owned one, in the late 80s/early 90s I desperately wanted a Honda CRX and once test drove a Ford EXP, Ford’s two-seater version of the Escort. I’ve always liked the convenience that a hatchback offers. Throughout the late 80s and into the early 90s, I owned at least three hatchbacks: a Mustang, a Yugo, and a Festiva.

My last chance to own a hatchback daily driver was in the mid-90s. I had considered purchasing a Honda Civic around that time, but went with a Dodge Neon instead. For a few years I drove the Neon and Susan drove her Saturn SC2, but by the time we sold those cars “Operation Let’s Start a Family” had commenced. Before long, the Neon and the Saturn had been replaced by a Isuzu Rodeo SUV and a Honda Odyssey minivan. The opportunity to own a zippy hatchback passed me by.

For as far back as I can remember my parents always owned a third (and sometimes, a fourth) “play” car on the side, whether it was Dad’s Jetstar or Mom’s Cadillac.

It’s a torch I’ve continued to carry, for the most part. Back when I bought that Suzuki Swift to piddle with, we owned a total of four cars, and there was a period where Susan and I owned five street legal vehicles (three cars and two motorcycles). In 2006 I was down to four vehicles (three cars and a motorcycle). I sold my Geo Tracker in 2006 and my Yamaha R1 in 2009, leaving us with just two vehicles: the Odyssey, and the Avalanche.

I fell in love with the Scion XB the first time I saw one. After years of watching cars conform into similar smooth aerodynamic bubble-shaped bodies, the XB did anything but. The Scion XB, dubbed “the box car” and/or sometimes lovingly referred to as “toasters” gave the middle finger to everything we’ve learned about aerodynamics over the past hundred years.

With only 103 horsepower, the XB (especially the automatic) was often criticized for being underpowered, and they quickly became known for their stiff suspensions and propensity for road noise. I couldn’t have cared less; I wanted one. I leered at each one I passed. And, last fall when I ran across one in great shape at a great price, I paid cash for it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t love the car as much as I loved the idea of the car. There was nothing wrong with the car. What was wrong, was me. The seventeen-year-old in me wanted to love this car, but it just wasn’t practical. Susan’s van has leather interior, eleven cup holders, and seat warmers. The Scion had cloth interior (with neon lights under the dash), two cup holders (none in the back for the kids), and … no seat warmers. I didn’t realize how far I’d come in twenty years. I suppose it would be like selling our house and moving to the apartment I lived in twenty years ago. (Here are some current reviews of said apartment complex. Yikes.)

Last weekend a friend of mine mentioned her brother was in the market for a used car, and within a few short days the details were worked out and the deal was done. The only moment of regret I had was when Morgan figured out what was going on and began to cry. I’ve promised her we’ll get something else, something a little bigger and just as fun. I also had to promise her whatever I get next will have a DVD player so she can watch SpongeBob in the car. She seemed to like that, but she was definitely sad to see “Putt Putt” go bye-bye.

The Scion was a good car. I enjoyed driving it and I gave it a shot, but in the end the two of us never clicked. Admitting the Scion wasn’t a good fit feels like admitting to growing up.

Blech.