Second post in one day after a six month hiatus. Don't get too choked up, now.
Hmmmm...may need to rethink this blog title before I publish or strangefettishgoogleman may make another appearance. Then again, life is nothing unless lived dangerously, and that is why when I was transporting the boy to a pool party in August, we took the 'safe way.'
On the way to that particular end of town, you come to a crossroads. You can go the way of twisty, dark, narrow, residential streets, or the more modern, 'safe' route with newly paved, wide streets and the same minimal traffic volume.
We chose the 'safe' way.
I should have just risked my life dodging the random escaped cow on the dangerous way.
So there I was, minding my own (fill-in-the-blank) business, driving my merry tuchus off. The car in front of me wanted to turn left, signaled such, and stopped until traffic cleared. I stopped behind and it was when I was at this dead stop and minding my own business that another car came flying around the corner (he was texting) and slammed into a Grand Cherokee that slammed into my merry little tuchus.
I was so upset. The Saturn was such a good car. It was paid off!!! *commence sobbing* However, they said it could be repaired.
And then they called to say the frame was bent in three places. They totaled it out.
I just notice that I tend to write in very short, very insignificant paragraphs. Look, here's another. ;)
Anyway, we were so set that it could be repaired that I never thought to look at/for another vehicle. On my way home I thought, I rationalized, I compromised with my own self and I was remarkably agreeable to myself, but the line was going to be drawn on one point and that line was non negotiable.
Later that night, after the kids went to bed, I sat down next to the man as calm as I could be and said, "I honestly don't care what kind of car I drive, and I don't have much of a reputation, but what reputation I have will NOT be driving a minivan." (Apologies here to everyone who loves their mini van. I know y'all are fiercely protective of them.)
Since I was in high school, I've been obsessed with Wranglers, pointing them out at every turn and going out of my way to park next to one so I could drool. I've coveted a Wrangler like others want a Ferrari or a perfect round of golf. It wasn't going to happen. Ever.
I gave the man my pitiful, "Please Lord, don't make me drive a mini van" face and he said, "I thought you wanted a Wrangler."
He apparently had one all picked out and had been putting money into another account to save for 'the day.' It just came sooner than we expected.
So, here you go
Here she is. She's so dark, dark green that it looks black in the regular light, so I put her in the sun for this shot. She's stock, but beautiful. It wouldn't hurt my feelings to lift her and put on larger tires, but that day will come.
So after the shock of being spanked while at a God's honest dead stop twice in a matter of three months (the first left no damage), I'm thinkin' I wound up on the better end of the deal. I'm a giddy girl.