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My father offered me a choice, many years ago: drive his 10 year old Volvo 245, or buy my own car, pay for my own insurance, and handle my own maintenance. I chose the free option, despite being embarrassed to drive a gold station wagon. (Obviously, I made peace with the car.)
My girlfriend's parents offered her one option: take the bus and save your money until you can afford to drive.
Anybody who gives a long-tailed Muroid rodent's posterior about what their kids want for their first car has given them too much power in the relationship.
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