As long as there’s a little grass, it’s still a good day

It’s been a really interesting past month to say the least, maybe more like “interesting”, not always in the best way.  To combat days (or months) like that I try to focus on anything remotely positive no matter how insignificant it is.

The mood improving game I’ve been playing lately involves the Kia, a little grass, and a driveway full of concrete with the goal being to salvage as much grass as possible while pulling into the driveway.  For some reason I have not been able to consistently park without taking a chunk of the landscape along underneath my rear passenger tire.

I was intently focused on accomplishing this small task while my niece was riding with me.  She asked what I was doing and I explained.

“Oh, Juicy, that’s easy.  Drive like it’s an ‘L’, not a ‘J’.  Duh.”

“Nooney, I’m trying.”

[Read more...]

I want you to beep like I mean it

As the car to the left of me started coming into my lane, I laid on the horn as hard as I could.  What did I get?  A sound that says, “Get out of my f-ing lane, friend!”?  Uh, no.  The Kia felt a roadrunner-esque “meep.  meep.” was more appropriate.  Kia, save that caca for gently reminding a distracted, oblivious person that “green” means “go”.

Air conditioning, reliability, safety, the opportunity to travel—all wonderful, appreciated qualities The Kia provides, but a mean mother-trucking horn is definitely not one of those.

In two cases, this being one and the other being power seats, The Taurus may claim victory.  I desperately miss having an easily accessible noise that conveys urgency, emotion, danger, and in some cases, a few expletives.  When my palm presses against the wheel know that my “meep. meep.” really means, “HONK! HONK HONk@#$!”  Polite reminders that the light is green are not included in the previous statement.  In those cases, a “meep” will do.

“Adios, Taurus. Hola, Kia!”

After another long day at the lab I made my second trip to the same Kia dealer.  Before heading over there are papers I have to pick up at the house which gives me an opportunity to clean out The Taurus.  I meet Keenan again and hand over more paperwork needed for my financing.  I am asked to take a seat.  Again.  At least my phone is working today.

He disappears into the back, occasionally visible from my peripheral vision.  I hear that the 2008 is being detailed.  This is a good sign.  Keenan sits down to ask a couple more questions after around 30 minutes of sitting by myself.  I ask a question, too.  I sharply query, “How long will I be left sitting here Alone?”  Point made.  In less than an hour I am driving my new car to its new home.

Everybody wonders how I made out as far as the price is concerned.  This curiosity is only heightened by the fact that I am a woman, it was my first time to by a car, and I did all of it by myself.  Well, I think I did alright.  My work is definitely not over as far as financing goes, but I do feel pretty satisfied with the price I payed outright for the vehicle.  Kia gave me a $4000 rebate to get the car off the lot, the dealer payed me $50 over what The Taurus was valued at trade-in, and I ended up getting a new car for over a $1,000 off invoice.

In a way, I was swept up by the tidal wave of pressure from the car salesman.  It was more passive than the first dealership I went to, but I was definitely not kosher on the speed with which his wave swept me along into buying a car.  Hesitantly, yet consciously, I allowed it for numerous reasons:  getting rowdy with a salesman is not the best way to go about getting a good deal (the service industry has illustrated this bazillions of times), “The Taurus” could’ve pooped out at any moment negating any opportunity for a trade-in, Texas heat was approaching fast, there would never be a great time to fork out a large chunk of my salary, but mostly the relief from feeling safe in my vehicle was too tempting to pass up.

Aside from money, I can not even begin to say what the car is worth to me personally.  There is a release of stress and panic from the likely possibility of being stranded at any moment.  I am able to drive in the rain without losing all my anti-lock systems.  Today I actually drove in the rain and kept waiting for an engine light, battery light, or any lit up icon to come flashing on the panel.  To my utter amazement nothing lit up as the rain puddled along the road.  My passenger door panel doesn’t fall off, and the driver’s side door will open even when it’s cold outside.  The keyless entry is more than another bobble on my keychain—I press, it opens.  Magic.  The process of re-training myself to quit opening the door manually is ongoing, but I’m learning fast.  I am able to visit my family and leave any time I want.  Driving at night was avoided in case I was left stranded, but now I feel okay getting in the car after dark.  Most important of all for a Texas resident is the fact that the car has air conditioning.  I was chatting with one of my buddies and giving details of my excitement about the AC by typing, “…and no more sweatin’ balls!”

His response was to ask if the car came with crotch vents.  It doesn’t but I think the cooling system it has will suffice with or without vents blowing near my “biznass”.  When I sat in the car at the dealership, the salesman already had all the vents cranked up and the interior more than cool.  Midway through the trip I started shivering.  The second half of the route back to the house was driven sans cooling, “Taurus” style.  Ironic.

The responses from family members and friends have been really great upon seeing or hearing about the new car, and include:

“Hmm, what a nice conservative grey.”

“Aye, niña!  I think that is a very smart color!”

“Aye, hija!  Congratulations!!”

Tears have already been shed a few times from the overwhelming possibilities of places to go and numerous alleviated stresses.  I still don’t really believe the car is mine but am genuinely more than thankful even for the chance to pretend.

Taurus, we had some good times but even more rough times.  Thank you for keeping me safe even when you were falling apart.  I felt bad leaving you all alone and hope there is someone who will appreciate you as much as I did.

Kia, welcome home.