Sunday, October 28, 2012

Part One

I feel it is important for a husband to regularly provide his wife the ammunition with which she will then use at her discretion to regularly remind him what an idiot she married.  I practice what I preach, and have the psychic scars to prove it.

I've been used car shopping.  It's been 3+ years since I delivered my daily driver to my youngest son and I haven't missed having a work horse until recently.  I made my case, Mrs. T and I agreed on a budget, and I set off to research the car of my dreams.

Quickly, I settled upon a most impractical motor car, a boy racer station wagon.  That the gas mileage made Camilla appear thrifty I was able to self justify, I was stumbling over why its over-complexity makes a 12 cylinder Jaguar mechanic blush, but figured no one would know but me, so I could dance around that issue if ever asked. The ever pragmatic Mrs T places automobiles in the same category as kitchen appliances.  They are expected to work always, with minimal human intervention and heaven protect a nickel and dimer and its fatuous owner.

Complex boy racer station wagons are thin on the ground. Imagine.  After looking at and rejecting one too many, it dawned on me why its less complex, less boy racer little sister was, judging by availability, a more rational option.

I found a candidate, a mom car, sold my story to my bride, then went to the dealer to exchange paper for metal, only to find it sold.  Minutes later I purchased my runner up choice, never once mentioning to the love of my life, that the car lived 1200 miles away, cost a smidge over budget and was slightly(?) different than the car we discussed over breakfast.

The story gets worse, so before you hear it from someone else, I promise to share.  Gotta let the bruises heal first.



Anonymous said...

Well, "I find myelf in beautiful Old Town Alexandria" rivals Call Me Ishmael, and dovetails beautifully with the oblique nature of today's Part One. I predict Mrs. T is going to take her revenge by appropriating that wagon right out from under you, I know I would, that's a BEAUT.


Suburban Princess said...

This is shaping up to be a verrrry interesting story...

Did I ever tell you that my husband did an informal survey at work and discovered something very interesting. The men, ranging from janitors right up to the 1.5mil VPs...are all thought to be bumbling idiots at home. It boggles their mind how they can wield such power in the workplace but aren't trusted with an ice tray in the house they paid for!

nanc said...

My feelings towards cars seem similar to Mrs. T's. Based on an eerily similar situation with my husband four years ago I have some advice to offer. After you get past these first couple of weeks with the car and you are 'forgiven', just let it drop. Do not try and convince Mrs. T that it is a beautiful car, that it will last you forever, etc. My husband tries to win me over whenever we get in his car. It's not going to happen. Good luck.

Old Polo said...

Ah Toad. Been there done that. I still think you should have stuck with the Cadillac CTS-V wagon. Although I think that the bimmer is pretty cool.

Toad said...

My bride simply does not see cars beyond their color. Names, style, etc are lost on her. Nanc I will follow your advice to the letter. Many thanks.

Anonymous said...

This seems oddly firmiliar to a Volvo wagon that I once used to ride in.

Elizabeth said...

Oh Toad, and an E39 to boot. 528 or 530? How many miles?