Ouch, and a decision

Jennifer kindly responded to my post as of last night, and I just now drug my sorry...to a computer so that I could read what she had said.

And, wow. Gee, that was pretty harsh. Way to sheild my feelings, Jen. Way to cushion the blow. Way to make me feel like it was all going to be okay.

Didn't you read it, folks? Here is what she wrote:

Frankly, you would be insane to fix that old car. And I would tell you so, everyday, if you chose to fix it. Bonding with that car was not good. It has let you down on numerous occasions. Face it Laura, your car just doesn't love you anymore! It doesn't deserve you anyway.

And if you do buy a Buick, you'll find out what true love with a car really is!

Also, love is patient, love is kind. Love does not leave you stranded by the side of the road. Love does not rain on you. Love does not blend in with the color of the road and cause other drivers to see you as part of the pavement. Love does not allow Mitch Daniels to almost run you over!!

When I told her on the phone what I had decided: to replace Mr. Honda with a car that doesn't need me to sell my blood plasma to pay for its repairs, her response was "Good!" But not the kind of good where someone asks you, "How was dinner?" And you say, "Good."

It was the kind of good where someone says, "I've decided to break up with my boyfriend, because he's fat, lazy, a drug addict, a cheater, plus he hits me and steals my stuff to sell since he's too diseased to sell his blood plasma."

And then you say, "Good!" As in, "It's about [fill in the blank] time good!"

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have made a decision about the car situation, as I mentioned. I decided pretty much before my last post that the Honda was too bad off to fix. Although it is too bad that I had just filled up the gas tank before it died...

And I knew that I would go through our Car Guru, since he is nice and he goes to our church and I am pretty sure he thinks he would go to hell if he sold the pastor or his family a sucky car. Also because when he sold Mom and Dad their cars, he made sure everything was fixed on them perfectly, and he even fixed some things that we didn't even think were important.

He's a good guy.

So basically, if I buy from that guy, I know I will never have to worry about the car I get, no matter what.

Which is a good deal.

To maximize the good dealage, he is actually willing to knock $200. off the price if I give up the Honda to him. Two hundred dollars for the Honda?! I didn't think it was worth the gas I was putting into it!

And I have decided on the car, and this is where things get funny.

Because they always do.

I went down to his garage/dealership today and visited some cars. When I shop for cars with my family, it always feels a little bit like going to the pound, all these homeless little wet, sad cars looking for good homes, and I have to pick one of them. And how sad is that, to think that some of them might go to people who leave trash in the back seat, and spill beef and mushroom stir-fry all over the passenger seat, and--oh, wait. That's me.

Anyway, we looked at the Buick, which did need a lot of cleaning up, as Dad had warned me. But because of the Honda, I know when a car sucks, and these were the warning signs: eau d'coolant, sticky brakes, a yellow button wired into the horn so that you could push the button and not the horn because the horn didn't work anymore, no AC, and mysterious stains on the seats. Also, an old granny story about the former owner (how far back?) that I doubted due to the state-of-the-art CD player with ALT port. And the horn thing.

No grandma would fix her broken car horn. Or use an i-Pod.

Also, I figured the stains in the backseat area might have come from a human. If you get my drift.

The other car, the Taurus, that we looked at was almost identical to my mother's Taurus in every concievable way. The green/blue ratio in the turquoise color is slightly different, and the interior is tan and not turquoise too, and the New Taurus is actually a bit younger than my mom's and nicer, kind of. It has a fantastic engine, stops on a dime, and has ANTI-LOCK BRAKES! And AC!

And, as an added bonus, no mystery stains or odors.

Wow.

So we then looked at a Chrystler, which was red, as in red red, the kind you paint sports cars with. Also, it had like, tattoo designs on the windows, and the windows were tinted. And an army of smokers had descended upon it, cigarrettes in hand, to make it a gasoline-powered asthma attack.

And, to make matters even worse, its brakes were the kind you practically have to stand on with all your weight to make the car slow down (watch out, kiddies) and the gas pedal was super touchy--meaning it was easy to go fast, hard to slow down, and red, so cops would notice it.

I hated that car. It was so, totally, not me.

Anyway, we then left Chris or Kris behind with the promise that we would let him know what we decided. And an hour or so later, I had made up my mind.

The Taurus, which is as close to a super-cool businesswoman car that I can afford right now, will be my new car. It will be dependable, it is already in great repair, and I already know all the quirks of driving a Taurus.

So we are going to make all the financial arrangements and make this thing happen, but, in the meantime, because the Car Guys we go through are so awesome, they want me to pick it up after they make it extra shiny, and drive it so that I have a car.

Now I just have to find some kind of super-Laura-esque bumper sticker to put on it.

Since I will have to give up my hampsters one, the Obama/Biden one, clearly the Star Wars one as it is already gone, and, sadly, the one I stuck on for Paul.