Kinderwagen: Our New Supercar

An American family stopped and asked us if we were from the States, and we asked them how they could tell. The response: "Your stroller." We had already deduced that the days of "Old Reliable" were over, and it was high time to let our trusty Combi double stroller enter into a well-deserved retirement. To be honest, it wasn't that our stroller was bad, or that we were trying to keep up with the Jones Family, or the Mueller family as it might be called in this neck of the woods. Believe me, we see too many Ferraris and Lamborghinis to even try. It was a practical truth that we could not get around the city easily with our current system. We knew that the little wheels on our Combi wouldn't cut it any more. Almost the day we set foot on the Old World, we began looking for our new Kinderwagen, as they are called here. We looked at cute little boutiques, and at Toys R Us, and the sticker shock literally dropped our jaws. Our shopping criteria in the states was merely that the stroller was of generally good quality, and that it folded up easily into the trunk of our Camry (our Combi would never fit in the back of a Lamborghini... Sorry Daddy). What we found here in Europe is:

First, Europeans define quality differently than Americans.

Second, the Liechtensteiners and Austrians don't care if a stroller fits in the trunk of a Camry (probably has something to do with the number of Lamborghinis in Liechtenstein)

Third, multiplying Swiss Francs is a heck of a lot less deceptive than pricing things in Euros (the multiplier for Francs is roughly equal to the dollar, but with Euros... that "1.3 dollars to 1 Euro" calculation can be tricky and cumbersome for college grads and MBA students.

As a disclaimer, strollers here are not strollers. They are cars. They have to have features, like disc brakes (a feature included on our Euro-stroller... again this has to have something to do with the Lamborghinis in Liechtenstein). They have to have umbrellas, the winter package, five-point safety harnesses, a mosquito net (yup, ours has that, too), a rain cover (check that one off the list for our latest family purchase), inflatable tires, swiveling front wheels (a surprising number of Eurostrollers don't have these, which makes absolutely no sense, because there is no such thing at all as a straight road on the entire continent, and it is entirely impractical to lift two growing boys every time we have to make a course correction, let alone a hairpin turn down a cobblestone alley), and most important BIG WHEELS with really good bearings.

Ooops, forgot one little lesson we learned about Europe. Well, Europeans are the consummate practicalists, and this goes for children's toys and gear. As soon as families are out of the child-rearing phase, they sell or donate their stuff. Here is the other awesome fact: Austrians and Liechtensteiners take really good care of their stuff! This makes for an awesome marketplace for ex-pat American bargain hunters like ourselves. We found a stroller in Austria that was relatively close to where we live (which means about 70-90 minutes away by foot, train, and bus), and we set off to find our new means of transportation.

It was raining. Liam cried on the bus for most of the way there, and both Everett and Liam eventually fought over which of them would be able to push all of the buttons on the bus and the cell phone simultaneously. When we finally laid our eyes on the stroller, and we knew were getting a killer deal, but insisted on trying it out with a walk around the block before making the purchase decision. We really took our time with a 20-second walk around the block and upon our return, we handed the cash to the woman of the house. Then we just stood there in the rain, reminding ourselves that we were 70-90 minutes from home in an unfamiliar place. This is where our Austrian seller truly showed her stripes. Understanding our plight, the woman offered to drive us to the nearest train station, which we kindly accepted. I do not think she knew what she was in for.

This was probably the first time that a Eurostroller has been placed in the back of a car...ever. She had to ask her husband how it folded, and he seemed to know that it folded somehow. After using all of the problem solving skills from the GMAT, Steve folded it up (with the woman's help... could have used her help on the GMAT, for sure...) Anyway, her jaw dropped when Steve turned around and clipped our tri-folding Combi together and gently laid it in the back of the car, as we then tried all of our Tetris skills to get the beautifully designed, but unwieldy double Eurostroller into the trunk. After what seemed like an eternity, we mashed the thing into the trunk and gently closed the decklid. It clicked shut, and then we got into the car.

At this point all mental, physical, and psychological reserves had been spent, this includes our boys. Liam remembered that he was sad, and began to cry. It was not a time for focus and calm for our polite chauffeur. She put the car in reverse, and backed straight into her sister's car with a crunch. IN ALL OUR COMBINED TIME IN EUROPE, WE HAVE NEVER SEEN A CAR CRASH FIRST HAND. This attests to the fact that Americans cause a great deal of stress for Europeans. Anyway, she merely responded: "Eh, my sister works for an insurance company, anyway. Don't worry." We felt so bad, but she recovered her calm quickly...but Liam didn't. He just cried and cried. We learned how difficult it can be for small talk over the lungs of an unhappy two-year-old and after a minor fender-bender. By the time we got to the train station, the woman certainly wished she were driving a Lamborghini, because we all just wanted to move on with our lives. (Well, the car would certainly not have fared well if it were a Lambo, it would have been a mess of cracked fiberglass and carbon fiber. Luckily, her modern bumper absorbed all of the impact and it didn't even leave a mark, at least that is what we like to think, at least.)

So there we were, at the train station with our new prize. We waved goodbye to the woman, and headed to our train, happy to know that the wheels were big enough to board without the fear of getting caught in the doors. Although we know that we got a smokin'-hot deal, we still haven't brought ourselves put the purchase price in Euros into real US dollars. That 1.3 multiplier can stay where it belongs...in the back of our heads...because we know that we got the best bang for our buck (or Euro as the case may be). And besides, our kids and our sore muscles will thank us for trading in our clunker for a Lambo, but in typical European fashion, there are no cupholders. Lamborghini's don't really need them anyway.