Automotive (mis)Adventures

So, you know my car? It died.

I was going to pick up Miss Peanut to go visit my niece and her new baby (my fourth great-nephew!) when my car suddenly got all schizophrenic and the engine decided that it would rev quite nicely, while the transmission said, no, I don't feel like moving forward today, thank you ever so much. And so, the car sat still when it should have been going. I was not thrilled, let me tell you. Luckily, it did decide to inch forward at a snail's pace if I revved the engine mightily, and it made its final collapse in front of a gas station, where I slid it into a parking space and turned it off.

A few frantic phone calls later, I had arranged for a tow, a rental car, and care for Miss Peanut until the WCM could come pick her up. I also apprised the WCM of the situation, who, with his odd sense of humor, told me "Whoo, boy, are you fucked!" Thank you ever so much, WCM. You twat.

An hour or so later, I was towed to a service location, where I'm told that they will need almost $300 to figure out just how bad the transmission is. Apparently, they have to take it all apart to know that. Ok, so, fine. Whatever. About 10 minutes later, the rental car company picked me up. I highly recommend them - that pick-up/drop-off service of theirs is a boon. I got home and...

just a tangent here - if your wife had had all of this trouble and had taken the time to keep you apprised of it, wouldn't you think a nice gesture would be to feed your child and perhaps prepare something simple so that she wouldn't have to come home and figure it all out, too?

...found that the WCM hadn't fed Miss Peanut and was waiting for me to cook something for dinner. We had words. I won't say what they were, but I will tell you that he went out and bought us a cheesesteak for dinner, while I fixed Miss Peanut something. After nearly 18 years of marriage, we've learned a bit of compromise. Props to us.

Well, two days pass, and the transmission guy tells me that my transmission's fucked. I need a new one for, oh, say, $2400, rounding up. Oh, and they're going to want another $300 to put the car back together if I don't get the transmission done and just want to get rid of it. Which, at this point, I do. Stunned, flummoxed, and quite peevish at this point, I told them I'd call them back in an hour with my decision. After a quick consult with the WCM, who was just as pissed off as I was about the extra $300, we decided that I would just get a new car.

I contacted these people, who were actually happy to get my car - even without a transmission in the vehicle! - and donated it. I figure the tax write-off will help us next year. I'll let you know how it works out, because they haven't towed it away yet, nor have I had any prior experience with them. But, hey, if they tow it for free, as they said they would, then at least I don't have to worry about getting rid of it.

So, the wrangling at home began. I wanted a Toyota Prius - hello, gas mileage! The WCM was not feeling the hybrid, as "they're too new." He's a scientist - he needs years of empirical data to support any decision. So today, the test drives began.

We visited a Ford dealership, where we had just about the most gorgeous car salesman in the world wait on us. A veritable Adonis, he stood 6'2" with curly dark hair and shocking aqua eyes. Personable, flirtatious, mouth-watering, he very nearly sold me a car. I quite liked the Ford Focus, but it was just a scoche small on the interior for me, even being on the shrimpy side (5'4").

After thanking our lovely salesman profusely, we went next door to the Toyota dealership, only to find that they had no Prius in the model I wanted - they only had the deluxe models on sale. I wanted one with a few nice bells and whistles, but not all of them. Affording it would be a bit of a stretch anyway - tacking on the sweet options like GPS and moonroofs would just jack the price waaaaay out of my price range. So instead, I tried the Corolla, which I didn't like. It was a lot like the Focus, but more expensive, and without the benefit of the dreamy salesguy. So I passed.

At the Honda Dealership, where I went alone while the WCM let Miss Peanut run off her extra energy at the McDonald's playland, I fell for the Honda Civic. What a lovely vehicle. So I bought one. It's a lovely deep gray, with light gray interior, and her name is Cécile. She has moderate bells and whistles, plus a few I didn't need but come standard with her. She's by far the nicest car I've ever owned. The saleslady was wonderful, the process painless, and the overall experience wondrously pleasant - the nicest time I've ever had spending that much money.

Of course, I'll be in debt up to my eyeballs for the next 4 years, but...

I've got a new car!!!!