5 posts tagged “car”
And by that, I mean there is nothing left in my bank account, yo. For today, I bought a car.
Yes, this is a very grownup thing for me to do and I thought I was going to barf all over the table, contracts, swiveling chairs and especially the check, when I wrote it out, with the many numbers and the zeros and the, for real, do you know how many months' rent are now going into these four wheels that are parked outside of my house?
I think I love my new car, though, so it's okay. I better love it, because I'm going to be paying it off, little by little, for the next twenty four months. That's two years. That's, like, the bank owns part of me until I'm 26. Twenty six! That's a long time!
(Side note: They're making chickpea fries on Iron Chef. Why can't I make those? They look delicious and probably taste like fried hummus delicious. Oh, and now I want hummus, too. Crap.)
So, yeah, I bought a car. I can't stop saying it. "I bought a car." She's a cute little car - yes, she's a girl - though I haven't fully decided on her name yet. Perhaps one day I'll get my shit together and even post a picture of her cute self. Or you could come over and see her. She's right outside, being cute, just waiting for new friends.
(Okay, now they are blending chickpeas with squid ink. That is not as appetizing. Blech.)
Tonight, my car and I will venture downtown and I will attempt to parallel park her in NW Portland on a Saturday night. That's a real test of love there. And tomorrow, we're going to the grocery store and perhaps to a quilting party and maybe out Frischmas shopping with Patti, though, um, I don't know if I have any money for Frischmas presents. Who wants some used DVDs and old Gap sweaters for Frischmas? Anyone? Hello?
Yeah. That's what I thought.
I bought a car. I think I might need to throw up now.
I sold Detroit today.
I am very, very sad about this.
Detroit has been an amazing car. He has seen me through all kinds of things - my first campaign, my first campaign win, my second campaign, my first campaign loss, my job at Reed, my job at the Museum, moving into my first apartment, hundreds of bags of groceries, my first speeding ticket, the time I met Bill Clinton and all kinds of other things. When I handed over the keys today, there was no "Whoo, thank God I unloaded that car!" or "Yes! Look at all this cash!" Instead, I turned to the guy who bought it and told him to give the car a good home. He looked at me like I was insane.
In reality, Detroit is going to a good home. The guy who bought the car has a son who just got back from Iraq. The son's wife is pregnant and he's going to give her the car once he's done using it in a couple of months. So Detroit is going to be a family car again and I'm sure he will do an amazing job for them, just like he did for me.
But I'll still miss him.
And now I have to find a new car. Not a replacement, because Detroit can never be replaced. Just a new car.
First, though, I'll be a little sad.
Goodbye Detroit. I'll miss you.
Last week was very sad for a lot of reasons*. First, I was sick all week, miserable, congested and grumpy. Second, because of the sickness, I had horrible cabin fever, even though Joe came over on Tuesday and Wednesday and took good care of me, and I was ready to crawl out of my own skin all week. Third, I came to the conclusion that I need to try to sell my car.
My car's name is Detroit. I know, that's a weird name for a BMW, but that's his name. His full name is Detroit, The Ghetto Beemer. He's not really ghetto, but people were always saying to me, "You drive a BMW?!?" And they were all shocked and amazed and stuff because BMWs are supposed to be these super expensive cars and, while Detroit is awesome, he's really much more like a really, really nice Honda than a BMW.
Once upon a time he was a really expensive car. He was purchased by my aunt in 1989 after she divorced my uncle. I like to think of Detroit as her Emancipation Car**. When Detroit was built, he was top of the line: all leather interior, 5-CD changes (in the 80s, people!), automatic windows and doors and seats, moon roof, a trunk that could fit a family of four and all kinds of other awesome features. I adopted Detroit in 2002 when I was working for Uncle Ted and needed a car to get me to and from the campaign after Nena The Luft Camry died***. He has been a fabulous car ever since, getting me to and fro and all that good stuff.
So why do I want to sell him? Well, Detroit isn't really from Detroit. He's from Germany. And finding all the German parts to fix him is sometimes very expensive. More expensive than I can afford. He deserves someone who will put the time and effort and money into keeping him the fabulous car that he is. So this weekend, I fixed him up and cleaned him out and put the For Sale sign up. I don't want a new car (or, really, a new used car), but I think it's time Detroit and I go our separate ways.
If you would like to give Detroit a good home or know someone who might like to adopt him, please let me know. Here are his most recent pictures. He has one cracked headlight and the driver's side visor is a little broken (or, rather, maybe the arm is a little broken), but his engine works great and everything else on him has been checked up by the doctor at the German car shop, fixed, spit polished and given an A+ seal of approval. And, on top of all of that, he's never even been in an accident. That's how much I love my poor Detroit.
Please help me find Detroit a nice home. Or at least wish me luck. This looks like it's going to be another hard week (or month or however long it takes). Poor guy.
*This is not counting the election. That was very happy. Yay Democrats!
**That makes my uncle sound like a really bad guy. He's actually a very nice man, just not for my aunt.
*** Nena's death was very sad. I don't want to talk about it.
So I thought I had a rough week. But then today happened and I realized this week was really just leading up to the fun of today. Huzzah.
Monday was the big Halloween party for work, with 1000 tiny costumed children coming through our doors. I greeted people most of the day, constantly exclaiming, "Jinkies! What a cool costume!" And then the kids looked at me like I was insane and the parents were all, "oh, I get it, Velma!" And then there were the dads that made the inappropriate comments - apparently, there are more men out there with Velma fantasies than one might assume...
Tuesday my back kind of went out. I couldn't get out of bed in the morning, which made me miss my run. I actually ended up in bed, with my spandex pants and sports bra on, having some quality time with the heating pad instead of working out. And then I sneezed and my knees buckled and I fell over. That was all before 8am. I will not tell you about the rest of the day because it's just more of the same.
The event I've been working on for the last couple of months was on Wednesday and it was totally fabulous. All of the guests seemed very happy and we exceeded our fundraising goal by almost 30%, which kind of totally rocks. I am refusing to focus on anything else about the event at this point because thinking about it just hurts.
Thursday and Friday were days filled with paperwork and numbers and me wondering why I was in the office when all I wanted was to sleep forever. I am still wondering why I was in the office those days. Silly paperwork and receipts and filing and stuff. But my back kind of stopped hurting so much, so that was nice.
And then, today. Oh, today. The first time in 14 days that I haven't gone into the office. I ran for an hour, then had a lovely, healthy, homemade breakfast. I finally got my act together to go to the pharmacy and Trader Joe's for soap and food and all those good things. But, you see, when I came out of Rite Aid, I noticed a piece of the front panel of my car had fallen off. I tried to put it back to no avail. So I kept trying until I started freaking out because, hi, I'm in the Rite Aid parking lot and my car is falling apart. And did I mention that it was raining? And I was soaking wet? I got into the car to think through how I was going to deal with that when a lady pulled up next to me and opened her car door right into the side of my car. And then, after she hit my car, she looked at me, smirked, and walked inside. Oh, my God, people, do you know the kind of restraint it takes to not hurt someone at this point?
I fixed the panel (With duct tape! From Rite Aid!), managed not to kill the woman parked next to me and came home, with soap, but without lovely groceries. I furiously cleaned the house top to bottom to get out my frustrations and distract myself from the fact that poor Detroit might be on his last legs and oh my God, I don't have money to get a new - sorry, a new to me, used, different than Detroit - car.
Joe then came over, we went to QFC and came home for dinner. Of course, I tripped on the very clean rug in the kitchen, sending my dinner flying across the dining room. What was my dinner? Lentil soup. Do you know how much lentil soup looks like poop, especially when it's flung across your house, soaking into your freshly cleaned carpet?
After I cleaned up the lentil soup/bunny poop mess and decided dinner was not meant to be, I made peanut butter and splenda cookies. I am surprised I didn't burn myself or somehow managed to burn the house down because, for real, that would fit with my day. I'm just trying to go to bed as fast as possible to avoid more horrors. Stop me before I hurt again.
Ah, and then it all comes tumbling down.
This summer has been The Summer Of Surprise Expenses. I thought it was bad enough that I'm shelling out almost $400 on the wedding I'm in in September for a dress that I will never, ever wear again and that I will never, ever be able to get decent money for at resale.
And then I thought it really sucked that the IRS lost my tax refund and are now saying I'm probably not going to see any money until October.
And then, then my car decided to take it up a notch. That notch being that the auxilary fan and resistor in the engine? Done. Shorting out fuses left and right and subsequently overheating my engine whenever I turn on the air conditioning. And because my car isn't, say, a Honda or a Toyota, but is in fact a really old BMW, replacing these parts cost more than a month's rent. In fact, it costs a month's rent plus my power, phone and cable bills. And did I mention that they charged me $100 to diagnose and inform me of this problem? So in total, it costs more than I spend on living in my home every month.
You see, here is when things become problematic. I don't have debt. I don't believe in acquiring debt that I can't forsee paying off in the near future and what with me working at a nonprofit and all, there aren't going to be any big paychecks coming my way for a long time.
So the decision is: Canada or working car. I think we all know what the priority is and, sadly, the priority is not the home of Douglas Coupland and Club Monaco.
There is one last chance that I will hear about tomorrow, but as of right now I am not hopeful.
And did I mention that I was up at 5:45am this morning to work out before an early meeting and some dumb bitch was on my treadmill?
Today was clearly not my day. Thankfully, Joe picked me up and supplied me with taco salad and two buck chuck. So I am coping. And drinking until I'm sleepy enough to pass out until tomorrow.
