Heading out to dinner, I asked which car we should take.  My wife selected her car and I asked why.

“Your car is old,” she said.

“It still works fine,” I responded.

Wife, “It makes funny noises.”

Me, “Only when I turn on the AC and in Minnesota, that’s only two months of the year.”

Wife, “It has 160,000 miles.”

Me, “That’s only middle aged for a car.”

Wife, “I have trouble sitting in it to drive.  The driver’s seat has molded around your butt.”

Valid point, no car should fit like a pair of skinny jeans and no man should ever argue until that card is played.