My new toy’s home safe and sound and in the driveway. (Tomorrow I may post a picture of my driveway in crisis. It’s a bit…full.)
She’s not primo, but a wicked good deal for the price. And there’s a problem with the transmission.
It’s sitting in the trunk.
But, yes, we knew that ahead of time. It needs a torque converter, so I can’t drive it, but I can sit in it. :cheer: We’ve bought and sold a few toys in our time (we have a toy budget, and luckily we usually turn a profit so it all stays within the toy budget, except for this one, which came from my trading in my sweet lil Focus for a big-ass ugly work van and a wee bit of tax money—okay, Caroline did, but I’m giving her to the husband. He can deal with her now.) But this one’s different.
When I was a little girl and my Barbie had a Corvette, I wanted a Barbie ’67 Mustang. When I got my licence I wanted a ’67 Mustang, but drove my mom’s Dodge Colt. When I dated a guy and got to drive his ’68 Camaro, I wanted to be driving a ’67 Mustang. When we bought Caroline, I wanted a ’67 Mustang.
I held it together through my husband saying “Go for it, and this is your max bid.” I held it together through the bidding. Through winning. Through stretching into the tax savings because the toy fund got a little depleted buying Caroline, despite the trade in reimbursement. Through driving down there, hoping she was the car they represented that she was and my husband wouldn’t have to drag me away from her, kicking and screaming. Through accident traffic in Providence and commuter traffic on 495, with her pounding along behind us on a crappy U-Haul tow dolly with her engine supported by a freakin Walmart tow strap because the transmission’s out.
But when we pushed her off that dolly and she settled into her (very limited) space in the driveway, I had to claim an urgent need to pee and hide in the bathroom and cry for a few minutes.
I’ll keep her forever. If I win the Powerball tomorrow and buy a Hummer and an ’05 Mustang and an Escalade and an Eleanor, I’ll still keep her. I’ve waited my whole life for her.
Hey, do I ever talk about writing on my blog anymore?
Ummm….Lesson for the
day week: It’s very, very time consuming to edit on hard copy (as is my long-standing method) and then type extensive changes into word doc with track changes, which I’m still trying to master, and it makes one’s editor pull her hair out and stick burning matchsticks into her Shannon doll. I can’t ever do it again.
Update: You know, cause it’s 3:25 am and I just now finished working on hubby’s business schtuff…
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