Operation: ‘Make This Car Mine’, Is a Go.

Sunday I made an impulsive decision. After church, I went to the Ford dealership to see what kind of deal I could get on the ancient Mazda 626. There was a small window of time in which I could buy it without getting attached. I could walk away, and not really care. The perfect time to buy a car. So I found Jack, the salesman I spoke to on Friday. I was prepared to haggle for a while, I have no life, I’ve got the time. He consulted his manager three times. I found out after we left that during the times he walked away, both he and his manager, and apparently his manager’s manager found my parents wandering around the store, and asked if they would make me see reason. I’m glad to say, they didn’t. I thought I was being perfectly nice about it, but maybe not, since I had at least three grown men running around the Ford dealership frantically consulting with each other and my parents. All I did was sit there and repeat, “Well, I’d like to buy it but I can’t go that high” and once, “Parts of the air conditioning are rusty. It’s going to be an expensive repair, and I have to have enough money left to fix it.” I wasn’t bluffing. I can’t bluff. If I ever play poker, well, I shouldn’t play poker. I have to make myself believe what I’m saying before I can convince anyone else. I’ve only saved so much, and I’m not going in debt or making payments for a first car- or any car for that matter.

I got up to leave twice, but he kept calling me back with lower prices. They really wanted to get rid of this car. In the end they agreed to my stupidly low price. I never actually thought they would. But I got the car. They even detailed it, no charge.

I have since become attached. It’s not perfect. It has dings on the doors, scratches around the gearshift, and part of the fabric on the roof is held up with staples, but it has the zippy-est 6 cylinder engine. When I drive it, I don’t even get mad at other drivers, or my dad for mixing up left and right so that I miss turns, or my mom for making her little stressed out squeaky noises. Okay, that last one I have yet to test. I haven’t driven with her yet, but I doubt I’ll care as much as when it was her car. Now, I just need to make it more officially mine. Commence operation: ‘Make This Car Mine’

Step 1: Adjust my seat to fit me perfectly.

     Check!

Step 2: Open and Close the sunroof at least five times.

      Check! Yay! It’s all weird!

Step 3: Fix the fabric hanging down from the roof. A little fabric glue should fix that, right?

     Well, I’ll get to that eventually.

Step 4: Set radio stations.

     Tomorrow. Probably. Why are there ten spots? Do I even know of ten radio stations?

Step 5: Mix a back up cd of my favorite songs.

     Check!

Step 6: Stash my houndstooth umbrella in the door.

     Check!

Step 7: Make a mental note not to touch the ‘swing’ button for the air conditioning. So creepy!

     Check!

Step 8: Remove or minimize the scratches around the gear shift.

     That probably won’t happen. Well, maybe…

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