I just bought a new car. It was an awful experience, but that’s just my anti-social nature at work. I’d much prefer to buy a everything on line… the less human interaction, the better, I say. And Mr Tater agrees with me; we’re admirably suited.
He’s a British Racing Green Mini Cooper (the car, not Mr Tater), with white stripes and a white roof and I love him to pieces. The car I traded in, with 125,500 miles on it was also a British Racing Green Mini Cooper, with white stripes and a white roof and I loved HIM to pieces also. What a difference 125,500 miles and 7 years makes. Much as I loved driving my old car, this one is FUN, it’s FAST, it’s QUIET.
He does have some rather bizarre new features, though. No CD player. Not available in the 2-door hardtop, which is the only Mini that isn’t an abomination. Though I’m sure there are plenty of purists out there who think any Mini after 1970 or so isn’t worthy of the name. But seriously, FOUR doors? And that COUNTRYMAN??? I would rather drive a GMC truck than a Countryman, and I’d rather be savaged by wolverines than drive a GMC truck.
So, hurrumph, no CD player for me. Which meant I had to learn how to borrow audiobooks online from the library and get them onto my phone, and then make them come out of the car, instead of the phone. Which actually turned out to be not so daunting a task as I’d expected it to be. And now I’m fizzing around town listening to someone read me a story, courtesy of my TYPEWRITER. Modern times, indeed.
And he doesn’t even HAVE a place to put the key in. Doesn’t have one. You just get in and put your keys in a pocket, or purse, or throw them on the floor. Just push the little toggle switch and vroom vroom zoom, off you go. Until you get to a stoplight. Then the car shuts off. Whaaaa? Did he stall??? What happened? Apparently, it’s less somehow bad to shut off and on and off and on, instead of just idling at lights. Weird. Lift your foot off the brake and vroom vroom zoom, off you go. So very weird.
Anyway, the point of this particular rant was supposed to be the bizarre $599.00 “document fee” they slapped on us. Ummm…Whaaaa? Do you have a gaggle of monks in the basement, creating illuminated manuscript pages on which you print these contracts? No, no sir, you do not. You pump them out of a laser-jet printer at a cost of less-than-pennies per page! Five HUNDRED and ninety-nine dollars. Scandalous rip off. So of course we had to do the haggling, negotiating thing which is nightmarish beyond imagining to both of us. We only do enough of it to not seem like TOTAL pushovers, then just say, fine, where do we sign?
Finally it was a done deal, and it was time to say goodbye to the auld fella…
That’s the old one in front, you can tell by the scratches below the side mirror where I neglected to realize there was a giant concrete post next to me while reversing through a parking garage one day about 4 years ago.