"The reality: Most parents own more than one stroller. ... (Some) own four, five or six strollers."

— Denise and Alan Fields, co-authors of "Baby Bargains"

Upon reading that, I cringed. One stroller was enough to block a large portion of our apartment's hallway entrance. With the price of real estate, it seemed unrealistic to cede over substantial square footage to half a dozen prams. Besides, were buggies really that different in functionality?

"We have five strollers and put every one to use," assured my friend. "One has a rain cover, another is lightweight, the third is great for naps ..."

If my husband and I truly wanted to limit ourselves to one stroller, it would require work and compromise. After narrowing down features important to us, we began the hunt.

As when an automobile purchase is on the horizon and other cars suddenly become more prominent, we began noticing strollers everywhere. Before becoming a first-time parent, I took little notice of buggies except when one was plodding along directly in my walking path, forcing me to scoot around it.

Now, strollers seemed ubiquitous. Jogging versions at the beach. Umbrella styles in the park. Double or even triple seats for siblings. All-terrain types for hiking. Carriages reminiscent of an Old World fairy tale. And pretty much every shape, size and color imaginable at the mall.

Eliminating certain choices was a cinch. A pram parked near the high-end department store was chic, but the price was astronomical — $800.

At nearly 40 pounds when empty, another hefty stroller I attempted to push up the trail at Makapu'u Point would likely cause back pain. The flimsy umbrella version (retail value: $11.99), a free bonus with purchase, was suspect.

After trying out numerous brands, we finally decided on a model. With its outmoded CD player pocket, slightly creaky frame and nondescript gray design, the pram was likely on sale because it was the last of its kind. It was, however, safe, lightweight and had many noteworthy features: car-seat compatibility (allowing baby to catch more zzzs), a reclining seat (for an infant's floppy head), and washable yet comfortable padding. The adjustable handle allowed everyone from my grandmother (who stands 4-feet-10) to my father (5-feet-8) to push with ease.

The buggy endured sprints in the park during an exercise class; bumping over dirt roads in overseas villages; and lugging for half a mile a 20-pound toddler plus groceries. That included three gallons of juice, seven quarts of milk and, precariously balanced on top, two six-packs of soda. (Note: I do not recommend the latter.)

Yes, the basket could be more accessible, the build sturdier, and the canopy larger. However, after 15 months of use, this stroller is still doing its job with aplomb.

I am even finding new aspects to appreciate about it as my daughter grows, such as a footrest for her now toddler-sized feet.

Except for the free bonus stroller stashed away in the closet and the frame borrowed for airline travel from generous friends, we have managed to stick with our one main buggy.

I hereby christen it "The Little Stroller that Could."

Monica Quock Chan is a freelance writer who lives in Honolulu with her husband and daughter.

Reach Monica Quock Chan at (Unknown address).