Hey! Hey! You! You! Get Into My Car!

As a new Angelino with no automobile, I am trapped and desperate.

CinS and I went car shopping (rounds 1 and 2) last weekend, and despite rolling with the Blogtari SWAT team, we left empty-handed. Perhaps 3 aggressive Persian men and an exhausted pregnant chick eating free dealership popcorn was a bit overwhelming to the Honda dealers of Los Angeles.

Because I have no wheels, CinS has been driving me to work every morning for the last 7 days (not that I'm counting). I know it sounds very decadent and Hollywood to have a personal driver, but I'd much rather have the freedom to run some errands during lunch than get carted around in a busted 1990 BMW.

My favorite part of the trip to work each morning is the running commentary. It is further proof that my husband is turning into my father, who finds it hilarious to describe in painful detail the sandwich computer system at the Wawa every single time we pass a Wawa.

Just because I know you wish you were along for the ride, I'll give you a sample:

"Did you know this is the longest traffic light in Manhattan Beach? I did an
experiment in middle school. It's been proven by the scientific method."

"That's where my car (said busted 1990 BMW) is getting detailed. It's gonna look
like new." (doubtful)

"I worked at that Blockbuster for 2 days. Technically, I never quit. I wonder if I'm still an employee."

"What are they going to do with all those neon signs (at the now closed liquor store that will be turned into a Rite Aid)? How can I get them? I need to call the Rite Aid. Oooo! Is that a car in the parking lot? I'm totally going to talk to them today."

"I need to go back to Frys."

I'm sure that was not nearly as entertaining for you as it was for me, but I thank you for indulging me.

To avoid the guided tour of the 2 mile drive from my in-law's house to my office, I decided to drive the busted 1990 BMW to work yesterday. I thought it would be liberating.

For anyone who has had the pleasure of driving with me, you may recall that I rely on the car's "elderly Asian woman" setting for my seat placement. Yes, I drive with the steering wheel in my lap and my nose pressed against the windshield.

But I guess there weren't too many elderly Asian women rocking a Beemer in the early 1990s, because I could barely reach the pedals yesterday. The seat back is also permanently reclined so I had to hunch over the wheel and stretch my feet to get going. LIBERATION IS MINE!

So CinS and father are going to yet another Honda this afternoon to barter beads and chickens for a mom-car. Let's hope that the new two-man tag team can outwit, outplay, and outlast the dealers of Cerritos.