I'm in the market for a (gulp) new(ish?) car. Current car has a cracked head gasket. And no, we're not talking about That Car that always gives me trouble. Now I'm talking about my old standard, practical mom car that fits in my garage.
I so loathe car shopping I'm considering fixing it.
But let's not talk about it anymore.
I locked my key parts in my car at work today.
Yep.
Luckily my mother-in-law was watching the kids today and didn't mind staying a bit late so Andy could pick me up from work. We enjoyed our ride home together. It was probably the closest we've come to a "date night" in a long time.
How's that for attempting to make lemonade out of lemons?
Between taking care of my rebellious elderly dog with a post-surgery cone on his head; my rebellious 2 year old and my rebellious 5 year old; I'm tired.
We still haven't replaced the keys to our car. The upside: the junk drawer that hasn't been cleaned out in 6 years is spotless. The toy room is re-arranged. Doors that haven't seen the light of day have had a glance.
No keys.
I've been driving my dad's 1980s (?) Ford F150 XL bed truck to get around in. At work I couldn't park the beast in the parking garage as it is too big. In fact they wouldn't even let me park in the upper outdoor lot, I had to park it in the bottom lot. I calculate it costs me $10 to drive to and from work in that thing.
Aside from the economical hit, I love it.
I was horrified when Andy insisted that I had to drive it. My dad told me "be sure to lock it up." I asked him "why?" because I figured it would be a blessing if that thing was taken off of his hands. My mom agreed.
But back to the fact that I love it. The kids ride up front with me and it is so much more fun than being their chauffer. Karsten was able to adjust the radio (we found a Cure song to dance around to) and Britta can kick the gear shift into whatever her foot happens upon. The kids are having fun. I like barreling UP the freeway perched above everyone in this redneck truck.
I feel like this truck is a bit out of character for me. Since I've been buying my own cars in for the last 11 years I've been able to select cars that are pre-approved aesthetically by me.
In high school I wasn't so lucky. One day I came home and a rust colored 1971 Ford Maverick (which I later renamed "The 'Ick") was parked in the driveway. When my mom told me they had bought that car for me I laughed. Then I cried when I found out they were serious. I didn't drive it for a few weeks until one night Brenda had the lead on a party on greek row at the UW. (Sorry if you're just learning this now, Mom.) Anyway, driving that ugly ass car built up some character. I knew no one was ever befriending me because of my car.
I'm thinking no one will be befriending me just to ride in this Ford F150 either.
Do you think your car tells people who you are?