So, you may have heard my car died. Well and truly. My weekend was spent getting a new one, which went like this:
Saturday: Get up at 4 a.m., take the train to Milwaukee. Get picked up by parents, driven an hour and a half to the town where my credit union is. Convince them to lend me money. Informed the credit union closes at noon. Crazy car shopping ensues. Miss the twelve o'clock deadline. Become convinced that life is ruined forever. Find a car. Praise god that car dealership is owned by someone my family has known for a long time, and he will let me drive the car home with just the down payment and the promise that the credit union thing will be figured out. Discuss mutual cousins with the dealer. Go to next town over. Have tea and pie with Grandma. Send camera-phone pic of new car to The Squeeze. The Squeeze receives a picture of a spider. Send camera-phone pic of new car to The Squeeze. The Squeeze receives a picture of Prada. Give up. Decide phone is retarded or about to rebel Terminator-style. Go to parents' house. Realize I need insurance. Mom calls insurance guy who lets us come over to his house to write my policy. Interupt his dinner. Realize insurance guy also taught my hunter's safety course in middle school. Get insurance, two memo pads, a letter opener, a pen, a calendar with a guide to the best fishing days, and a reaffirmation of the second ammendment. Feel awesome. Go back to parents' house.
Sunday: Crash. (Sleep-wise, not the car.)
So, here are some pics of my new car:
As you can see, the hatchback-style gives me a lot more room than in my old coupe, and the steering wheel is set low enough for short people to see over without sitting on the yellow pages.
The power locks and power windows are a nice upgrade, too.
(True: "I know a guy.")
Bella oughtta know a guy, too.