Having A Fit

and loving it!

(I've been waiting for MONTHS to use that blog title/subtitle!)

After having my old hoopty Taurus for the past nine years (seriously - I found my high school class schedule in the center console as I was cleaning it out), it was getting to the point where lots of things were starting to go wrong pretty frequently. Sooo...I bought a car. A brand spankin' new Honda Fit.

It just might be the cutest car ever. And she's got more than looks, folks. Oh yes, we've got great gas mileage & safety ratings, and a price that won't break the bank.

It's like that guy we all knew in high school (or girl. whatev.) who was SO cute AND smart AND nice AND you knew you could never have him. But then one day he turns to you and says "I really hate doing it this way, but my parents are really strict - if you will spend a hellish 8 hours of your life talking to sleazy people who will lie to you about my qualities, endlessly try to figure out what YOU will bring to the relationship, and then conveniently "forget" what they told you an hour later or get all upset when you call them out on their lies - well, then I'm all yours." Ok, so I guess that analogy doesn't really work, but you're picking up what I'm laying down, yeah?

I. HATE. BUYING. CARS.

I am not kidding, I spent 8 hours at the Honda dealership on Saturday. It is a VERY long story, which I'm not going to go into (mostly because it makes me angry), but suffice it to say that this experience has totally jaded my view of car salespeople. They were SO underhanded about everything and obviously assumed I was either going to be a) so giddy with excitement about actually seeing my "pretty new car" that I wouldn't notice it was missing half the things they flat out told me it had, or b) monumentally stupid and unobservant, despite the fact that they knew I have a Master's degree in a field where obsessive attention to detail is pretty much a requirement. (This wasn't rocket science, though, you guys. It's kind of obvious when a car does NOT have mudflaps on it (that you didn't want in the first place). Unless they're using those new, invisible mudflaps.)

BUT. After probably one of my most frustrating days on record, I ended up making a pretty good deal on the exact car I wanted. And I managed to keep my dad (who was along as moral supporter and general bullshit detector) from blowing through the roof of the place somewhere around the 7th hour. I took him to the local brewery for dinner as a thank you. Somewhere around the end of the second beer I think his blood pressure began to return to normal.