Let's Stay Together

(Insert picture of me hugging the front of my car, resting my head on its' dirty, dented hood here.)



One day, when I own a working camera, I am going to make things like that happen for real.



So after all the excitement, chaos, and hubbub associated with Cash for Clunkers and me getting a new car, I finally decided to keep the Monte Carlo a little bit longer. Let me explain.



Thursday was my first day-off work since I came home from Chicago, and I set it aside specifically for car shopping (Also, for sleeping, but that is no real surprise). I met my dad at Murdock Chevrolet in Bountiful, which received the honor as first dealership due to years of family business there. We test-drove the Cobalt (ahem? No power locks or windows? Wha?) and the Malibu (Really nice car for the price. My main problem is two of my friends drive Malibus. I need to be a original. I can honestly tell you that my food tastes worse at a restaurant if anyone at my table orders the same thing. Is this a disease or is everyone else like that?). They were nice cars. I liked them. I love my car. I had hoped for some time to think it over until the salesmen alerted us that CfC would be ending in four days. I told him we would hurry. Moving on.



Next, I picked up my sister and we went to the Honda dealership where I was told my clunker was not clunky enough. Hmmm. OK. We then went to Toyota. Same story. I didn't really feel like being told no by anyone else. With only two real options and only a handful of hours left to decide, I backed out. My great visions of driving a new car with new tires, new windows, new paint, and a new smell were gone.



As I drove home that night I played REO Speedwagon's "Keep On Loving You" as a caressed the dashboard of my old friend. OK, I didn't really do that. (Or did I?) I didn't. (?) I remembered all the good times the Monte Carlo and I have enjoyed together. Moving up to college and all the subsequent apartments. Impromptu dance parties. Road trips. Getting pulled over a dozen times. I look forward to my butt sticking to the leather seats on hot days. Or getting off work at eleven and finding my door froze shut in January. I'm glad that I can still smell the mixture of blueberry gum, gasoline, and air freshener and my friends can still complain about the passenger door not opening. I may use some of the money I had planned on using for a new car toward fixing up my old friend. But, then again, maybe I won't. I might keep things just the way they are.