Yes, it's true, (I guess this qualifies as a confession), I'm in love with a car, but not a car that I'm getting. I'm in love with a car that we're getting rid of. At this very moment, Chris is at Northtown auto dealership trading in our beloved Fletcher for a car that I really, really don't want. I am fully aware that I'm being completely irrational, however, cars are one of my vices. I will shop at the salvation army for clothes, and I will do without a lot of things, but I have to have a car that I love. I don't need an expensive car, I just need to love it. The Mini Cooper was my dream car. The fact that I could get a turquoise one made it even better. But Chris is the one who drove it most of the time, and I drove the black Jetta. The Jetta was to be returned in August (we leased it), so then we'd have Fletcher, the Mini, and Elphie, the Pilot (green, of course). I can see where Chris was coming from...driving it every day was probably a little rough on him. The small size and tight suspension made it kind of a punishing ride, and he has to drive to downtown Buffalo every day for his job. Still, I'm very sad to be getting rid of it. I'm crying real tears of sorrow knowing that Chris will not be driving home in Fletcher, but instead will be pulling into the driveway with a red 2008 VW Jetta Wolfsburg. I know I will be judged for this posting (if anyone reads it) for crying over something so trivial, but this is who I am. I am a car lover. One who drove a Mini Cooper for a glorious 11 months, and who smiled every time I got behind the wheel.
Here it is on the day we picked it up.
One day we loaded it up with Chris' planes and took it to the flying field.
The Day Everything Became Crystal Clear
2 days ago