Remember last Friday when I was whining about having to take our car into the shop because it nearly died in a bad part of town on the way home from work? Well they couldn't find anything wrong with us and told us when it happened again to bring it back in. Great. Yesterday we got an instant replay, except this time the power never came back and the engine finally just died.
In our driveway.
Yes, we made it over five miles with all the warning lights on and the dash gauges flatlined, behind some very slow drivers, all the way to Clinton and right as we pulled in past our mailbox the engine died. Greg had to push it a few more feet to get it enough out of the way for us to get his car out of the carport. The wrecker was supposed to pick it up this morning. I was beyond grateful that it made it all the way home. Really, I was giddy with happiness.
So we went car shopping last night. Ironically, we don't really want to trade my car, we want to get it fixed and trade Greg's. The problem is whether or not they can find what's wrong with my car and if they do, what the heck are we going to buy? I hate car shopping. There's nothing on the lot that really makes me say, "Ooh! Pretty! I want that one!" Ok, that's a lie. I said it about a Corvette I saw on a lot last night. But we're not buying a Corvette, so it's irrelevant.
We've looked at low mileage Accords, Camrys and the like. I don't have a clue what we'll end up with. I don't really want a compact, I like the mid-sized four doors, like my Taurus. I do not really like the new Tauruses. We're not planning to finance it, we're planning to trade in the Mustang and write a check for the balance, so we won't be spending a huge pile of cash here.
We did have fun looking at some of the nicer cars and laughing like lunatics at the price tags. Call me crazy, but I'm not spending $40,000 on a car. Ever. I don't like cars that much.