Somewhere, written in stone, are the words “Purchasing A Car Must Be A Long, And Painfully Boring Experience,” or maybe “Thou Shalt Not Enjoy The Process Of Automotive Purchasing.” Because no matter where you go, new car dealership, used car dealership, no-haggle pricing dealership, it is going to take 432.8 hours and you will have to sign your name to 16 reams of paper.

In the end, hopefully it will be worth it. Since my cute little red LeBaron was rapidly going downhill (it’s a problem when your car does not consistently turn right when you want it to) and there was a nice looking Sebring convertible in Sacramento at an awesome price, we decided this was the right time to subject ourselves to the torture of buying a car. Naïve me, I thought that it would go a lot quicker at a no-haggle place, but no… It took longer.

But the car was so pretty, and so nicely loaded, drove so sweetly, and was so nicely priced…we suffered the risk of dying of boredom and carpal tunnel from signing our names so much. We suffered the pangs of hunger from skipping lunch. After almost 4 hours (or maybe 3.5, but the Spouse Thingy was pretty sure it was 4) we had the keys and drove off in our sparkly black new-to-us car. The top was down, the wind was blowing through our hairs, and we were oh-so-happy.

If I could have, I would have danced in my seat all the way home.

By the time we were done, we were starving. So when we got close to home, we stopped at a Burger King for dinner (how celebratory!), and I thought it would be Very Nice of me to let the Spouse Thingy drive the rest of the way home. All 5 blocks.

He is paying for it, after all.

So he fired it up and started to back out…and it died. He tried to start it up again, and nothing. Not.A.Thing. No click click click of a starter. The engine made no attempt to turn over. Nada.


At that moment, I think I invented new and extremely colorful swear words. Words no one else has heard before. Words that would make the devil himself blush. And I was going to make the dealership come down and take the piece of chit back, shoved up someone’s ass if need be.

The Boy came out to see if jump starting it would work.
It did not.

Yes, with 3 s’s.
Extra pissed.

On a whim, the Spouse Thingy asked for my key. He got behind the wheel, shoved my key in…and it started. And stayed running.

He turned it off, stuck his key in. And nothing.
My key in. It worked.

The heavens opened up, sunshine poured out of the skies, and all was right with the world again. Thumper bought a car with electronic keys, and one of them did not work. The dealership (at least the woman the Spouse Thingy spoke to seems to think) will pay for a 2nd key for the car.

We brought our new baby home, put it to bed, and the Boy went out to meet some friends.

He called 15 minutes later.
He locked his keys in the car.
We don’t have a spare key for it.

The Spouse Thingy is now sitting in a parking lot with the Boy, waiting for someone the insurance company is sending to open his door.

A perfect end to a =cough= perfect day.

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