Silly Me

Okay, so you’d think that someone who had just crunched his car would be cautious about finding something new, right? Well, I would think so.

But I’m wrong, and I know me, so the first thing I did while I was walking between buildings today was to call Sean.

S: “So, you liked my comments?”

G: “Heh, yeah. I’m thinking about looking at cars over lunch. Wanna run me there?”

S: “Yeah, the Subaru dealership will be open.”

Sean knew. He just knew. So we went, and I liked it. I really liked it. Then I drove a fancy new Nissan Altima [the Nissan dealership is across the street]. I didn’t like it so much–sure, it was nice, but it didn’t make me stand up and pay attention. Darlene did that, and while the temptation to buy another truck is there, I think I want to drive a car for a while.

I liked the Subaru salesperson–she was quiet and listened to me. The Nissan guy was a smooth-talker [well, except he’s a smoker, so it’s not so smooth], and after five seconds, I realized I didn’t like him. I proceeded to tell him I’d make payments that were about 150% of what I’m reasonably willing to make, just to mess with his head. Sorry, but I felt a bit evil today.

So, I’ve got a call in to my credit union. We’ll see what they say on a loan. I don’t think that’ll be any problem. We’ll then see what comes of the insurance claim–hell, Darlene may still be driveable. But when I walked by her this morning, I just sorta knew … I’ve driven her for the last time. Damn if that don’t make me tear up a bit.

And for the first person that says, “You don’t need a car like a WRX,” I respond thusly: If I were going to get a car that did just what I needed it to do, I’d walk down to the local used car lot and walk out with an ’88 Escort. I didn’t need my truck. I will buy something that truly interests me and will hold its value. The WRX does that, and Lord knows that getting the kick in the seat of my pants at 3000 rpm driving down the road and going from 30 to 50 mph in the blink of an eye was a fun experience.

We’ll see.


  1. Darlene, Huh? I named my 1966 Chevelle Monique. The day I traded her off, I took her out for one last spin and she "burned rubber" when I went over a railroad track at 65 MPH. Now that was a car — 300 HP off a 327 CI engine, a high speed rear end and a 3 speed manual on the column.

    A quiet 1972 Olds Cutlass, 195 HP, automatic, etc. was the car that brought your brother home from the hospital.

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