I got a new car this last weekend. Well almost new. Itís a 2006 pontiac G6 from enterprise rent a car, meaning it was in their fleet for a year. Itís very nice, especially for someone who has never had a car less than ten years old. My parents bought it for me, Iíll admit that. Specifically, my father bought it. He wanted me to have something safer, more reliable than the convertible. He said I deserved better. Weíre keeping the convertible, its stored in the back of the garage now. He told me that I can drive it in the summer again. But I know how things work, by the time he gets it out next summer it will probably be the end of august.
So hereís the part where I whine. I didnít want a new car. I kept saying no, and only gave in when he said if I didnít pick one he was going to buy me a hatchback. I was difficult through the whole thing, said I wanted a coupe, which enterprise doesnít have in the g6. Things like that. This car is new and fancy. It never dies getting off the highway, the dash lights always work, the headlights never get stuck open. It tells me if my keys are in the door. It actually has a trunk. Turning on the air conditioning doesnít cause problems with the fuel injection system. The brakes work perfectly, and itís a six cylinder with enough pickup to beat most cars off of a light. It gets great gas mileage.
But I didnít want a new car. I didnít want to be practical, I didnít want something reliable, whereís the excitement in that? The new car seems so much better, but itís not my convertible. Sure the roof doesnít leak, but it doesnít go down either, when I want to drive late at night and see the stars. The new car doesnít have to be convinced to go when you hit the gas. But its plain, itís just like every other sedan on the road, itís not me. I like being a little different, I love being the blonde in the convertible. I know weíve been trying to fix the convertible for months now, figure out whatís wrong with the fuel injection, but why canít we keep trying? This new car, it has never been to Minnesota, never broken down on the way there. I moved my pop tarts into it from the convertible, but it wasnít there the morning I got the pop tarts. It doesnít know what they stand for. And why donít I get a say in this? I know it wasnít my money that bought the convertible, nor was it my money that bought the new car, but why donít I get to decide? Iím tired of people taking the choices away from me. Everyone keeps telling me I deserve a better car, but who said I wanted one?