Wed, Dec 05, 2001 8:19PM -0600

So yeah, I've been trying to keep personal minutiae off of this blog, preferring to write the vague utter crap that I've been emitting erstwhile, but I guess I may as well. Who else would I tell? At least you can't tell me to my face that you don't really care. Hehe.

I'm on the verge of buying a new car, which is quite ludicrous considering that I will end up just leaving it here for two weeks, completely undriven, as I once again fly off and go gallivanting up and down the length of California. So I'm simultaneously excited and aghast. Excited that I will finally be driving a brand new car instead of the secondhand, thirdhand, and fourthhand piles of metal that I've had the pleasure of being inside while they suffered their inevitable deaths. (Not my fault! Act of God!) I have never driven a car that hasn't suffered some sort of major damage, much less a nice car. The best car I have ever driven (meaning, long-term, i.e., I was responsible for taking care of it. No, it wasn't really mine. My parents', of course) was a two year old 1997 Toyota Corolla which was OK except for the fact that it didn't have a cassette deck (making those 6 hours drives up and down the I-5 absolute hell) or even a clock, and I wasn't sure any of the cheap plastic gages worked. If that were all, I realize I shouldn't even be complaining, but the problem was that by the time the car had been handed off to me, it had already been generally abused by my family members and accidentally driven through a chainlink fence. Moreover, various pieces of plastic kept falling off, much of the upholstery was stained, and the interior perpetually smelled of Chlorox.

On the other hand, I feel like a dirty rotten stinker for getting a car without lifting one finger in an effort to work for it. I hear the boos and sneers already. So now I'm being defensive. Sure, I used to say that all I needed was something that ran, who cares what it looked like, but not only did certain people make fun of me for driving a 1989 Ford Taurus station wagon, but even when I drove them around in it, they kept making disdainful comments about being poisoned by carbon monoxide. (So that's why I used to feel tired and dizzy all the time....) And it's not like I'm getting a really nice car, like a BMer or a Benzo or anything like that. And I really do need a new car. No more driving cars older than 10 years. I, sir, have had my fill. It can't imagine it would be too fun to break down when it's 1 degree outside not counting windchill (although if the weather holds up, I seriously wouldn't have to worry....) Hell, it wasn't fun to break down when it was still October and at least I could walk home. And that Taurus was leaking all sorts of fluid like crazy, and while the current problem is surely the starter or alternator, I'm not sure I want to find out what's next. (Even the mechanic told me that it would probably be wiser to save the money for repairs and use it for a downpayment.) Still, I am aghast at the sheer amount of filthy luchre I need to divulge in order to obtain the car. Though I must say it pales in comparison to what I've been divulging for my education.

OK so I sent the e-mail that locks me in to buying this car. Can it be? Will this immobile waiting finally end? Maybe only fellow Angelenos would understand what an inordinable torture it has been to not have a car for this long. I surely don't understand how I survived undergrad.