Oh, I’m sorry, were you waiting for me to say something? Forgive me. I wanted to post something sooner, but, well, you see … my life no longer involves doing the things I want to do. It has instead devolved into a series of tasks … the most time-consuming of which as of late is my continued quest for a used minivan that can do two seemingly contradictory things: 1.) Fit into our meager budget, and 2.) Be something other than an embarrassing hunk of shit that compels us to wear bags over our heads while we travel around town.
We haven’t had to buy a new vehicle in over a decade … and I’d forgotten just how unpleasant the entire experience can be. In fact, I somehow managed to delude myself into believing that I was the one who would be holding the cards this time around, and that the used-car dealers would bow to my iron will and empty wallet.
I have now been to a number of used-car dealerships, and at each one, I sat at the salesman’s desk and went through the unnecessarily long and drawn-out charade of them showing me a price, me showing them the lint in my pockets, them taking my offer of lint to the magical Wizard of Oz-like entity who apparently makes such decisions from an office on high, and then returning with a barely altered figure that resulted in my bidding them a good day.
After the third or fourth time this scenario played out, it became clear to me that a broke-ass dude looking to trade in a 15-year-old jalopy with a blown head gasket in exchange for a bargain-basement-priced-yet-practically brand-new minivan shouldn’t expect the dealer to grovel and quake when said broke-ass dude rejects said dealer’s offer and walks out.
That phone you don’t hear ringing? Yeah, that’s the dealer not calling to say he’s now eager to meet my demands.
Here’s a picture of me with a gigantic bear sculpture made out of nails:
Alrighty, then. I’ll get back to you after I have this whole van thing sorted out.