We almost bought a car on Saturday. We were so close. I'll spare you the torrid details about how the sales manager wouldn't tell me what interest rate they could offer but said they could beat any bank. And how he said that if I liked the car, then I shouldn't lose sleep over it but just buy it (and pay them $500 a month for the next 5 years). Oh and our salesman was a year younger than I was! I can't buy something from someone that young. Just call me a hypocrite next time I complain about age descrimination. But the final straw was when they would only give me $3500 for the Saturn. Could you believe?! Had our salesboy not been so nice, I would have leapt up in a diatribe of vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. So now, Sweetpea washed my car and I wouldn't get rid of it if wild horses drug me away from it. I admit it, I was seduced by cupholders and vanity mirrors. But the temptation all boiled down to a very expensive monthly payment for the rest of my life and just for transportation acquired from a schmarmy sales manager. My mother told my father that we were car shopping on Saturday.
Dad: That's dangerous!
Mom: I know.
Dad: That's like locking a man in a room full of naked women and saying “Now don't be tempted!”
Mom: I know it is. I told her that.
Dad: No, it's worse than that! It's like a man in a room of sex crazed naked women! Locking him in there!
Mom: Mm-hmm. I know.
Needless to say my parents aren't the new car type of people. So, I turned away from the sex crazed naked women and have consoled myself with all the goodies I can buy in place of all those car payments. So Sweetpea and I bought new sunglasses instead and a Jeep seat slider and nerf bars and some clothes. Kiss my ass, Chevy dealership!