Hey monstre, whadja do on Saturday?
Well, we decided to take it easy on account of massive stress, put off working on my car 'til Sunday, did some laundry, dropped of some dry cleaning, and decided to drop by the nearest Toyota dealership to test drive the Toyota Prius hybrid car.
Next thing I know I'm hearing myself say "cash. I'll just pay it in cash."
Tomorrow I have to call my insurance company, and drop by the bank to get a whopping huge bank draft drawn up.
Holy crow. It's six am on Sunday morning and I woke up dreaming of my new silver hybrid car.
I bought a hybrid car.
I've been staring at it for a year now, thinking about it, analyzing the specs, wondering if I'm ready to buy a brand new car rather than just grab some used Nissan again off some dealer's parking lot.
I've been debating the issue with my boss, with respectable people who are concerned about buying a car that hasn't really been road-tested all that long. That's so small when you're considering starting a family. A car with so little power when my career affords something larger and fancier on the inside.
There's no extended warranty on it.
I just bought a hybrid car.
It's silver. The only one they had.
Last night I burned a Mostly Mozart CD for it.
Yesterday evening we wandered over to the Pacific mall, ate fish dumplings and oystersauce greens, bought our favourite chinese chocolate candy, and bought "accessories" for the car. A cell phone holder, a thingie shaped like a robot head to hang a bag from, a place to stick my wallet, pens, and my mileage book, and
a CD holder.
So far I've filled it with:
1. Mostly Mozart
2. Great Big Sea
3. Louise Attaque
4. Tri Yann
5.Squirrel Nut Zippers
6. The Tragically Hip
in it.
And a Dave CD with strange techno for days when I'm feeling musically generous.
There's no punk in there, no Oi, no Edith Piaf or Noir Desir --
obviously I need a secondary CD holder.
We didn't get furry seat covers or puppy-dog patterned cup holders or furry visors or "massaging" steering wheel cover.
We didn't get replacement blue headlights, (well, Dave got some for HIS car) or fancy lettering or rice-rocket worthy stuff. Yet. I guess.
I'm focusing on the little things because quite frankly
I'm unable to fathom it for real.
I've never had a new car before. I've always been the insecure junkheap on the road, inadequate yet dented and agressive because quite frankly you couldn't do worse to the car than I already had.
I never really wanted to be a new car driver either, that's something that other people do -- grownups, showy people, that other kind of businessman that uses appearance over skill to impress the community.
But my car has been falling apart. The bumper is hanging, the heating resistors rusted away (although we're fixing those up tomorrow), the gas gage only reports the contents of the tank sporadically.
The brakes are fine, the engine will run forever -- but time has become so short and precious that the risk of losing the car for a few days would contribute too much stress to the precarious balance I've been thriving in.
So I bought a new car.
Trollboy gets first dibs on the old one, then Kristen, then it's up for grabs or for the junkheap.
We'll have to find a place to park it soon since our shared driveway is already needed by Rocketbride's midwife for when they give us the honour of beginning their delivery in as welcoming a space as we can provide them.
That's my biggest concern right now.
On Monday when we pick it up, swap license plates and bank draft, and take it home, is when I think the rest will sink in.
Learning to park again, the new dimensions, the new feel, the gearshift in the funny place, the way you can feel the little something behind the breaks that is actually charging the engine.
Recognizing it in a parking lot.
Finding stickers for it, to make it mine but still relatively innocuous.
I wonder if they make hybrid-pride stickers somewhere.
I wonder.
How.
I ended up here.
Little lost monstre who wandered into a store one day and just bought the car that felt so right and she'd been dreaming of all year.