"All words are symbols that represent unspeakable realities. Which is also why words are magical." (Donald Miller tweet)

Monday, April 18, 2011

does this car make me look fat?

We almost bought a car on the weekend.

It's been a long time coming. Our 2000 frill-free, brown-bag Toyota Corolla has had its engine and a good part of its body replaced over time, meaning it is more cyborg than original being. Our mechanic doesn't even speak to us anymore, just shakes his head and sighs. There are no lights left on the dashboard. The windshield is cracked. There are suspicious fumes from time to time. (Not THOSE kind of fumes, engine fumes. Sheesh.) A couple of weeks ago the driver's seat broke. (Spike impressively wedged it into a position that holds if you don't EVER attempt to adjust it.) And when the question of "whose car should we take" arises in group situations ... no one ever suggests ours.

I can't imagine why.

So we (and by "we" I mean Spike) have been checking out cars on-line, reading reviews, comparing prices. Spike thinks this is fun. I do not.

Most of the time I don't like shopping anyway, unless it's for killer shoes or a house, and only if there's an actual intent and budget to buy. I do NOT like shopping for jeans. And I DESPISE shopping for a swimsuit.

*pause to shudder*

Car-shopping is right up there with swimsuit shopping for me. I start off with confidence and high hopes - "surely I can do this". Bitter reality sets in - "cancel the vacation, I'm not going anywhere near a beach". And after giving in to Spike's desperate plea to PLEASE like SOMETHING, and choosing that sporty one in the back, I darkly suspect that a salesperson is quietly laughing as we drive it off the lot.

So we made a deal. Spike will look at cars and talk to salespeople, while I remain happily oblivious. I want a low price and good mileage; he wants ... I don't know ... something about an engine. We both prefer a stick, but can live with automatic. When Spike comes up with The Perfect Vehicle for An Incredible Deal, I get to test drive, co-sign, shake hands and leave.

(Too bad I can't do that with a swimsuit.)

So on Saturday, Spike did indeed find The Perfect Vehicle for An Incredible Deal. He brought it by the house, and we took it for a spin. Came back to the dealership, announced our intention to buy ... and found out that, much to the salesperson's chagrin, the car had been sold by another salesperson while we were test driving it.

So we almost bought a car on the weekend. But we didn't.

And I don't have a swimsuit either.

3 comments:

Derbecker said...

While you were TEST DRIVING? That's insult to injury.

chRistine said...

i've never heard of that happening. can you imagine the other people, signing the paper work, wondering where their car went?

Janer said...

That sucks. A lot. I can imagine Spike's salesguy wanting to harm the other guy...car salesman-style. Ugh.