National Lampoon’s Car Dealership

Things tend to…dissolve…when you involve my family. And by dissolve, I mean madness ensues and someone (at times a salesperson) ends up in tears or swearing.

(Usually that’s me.)

I mean, remember a few summers ago? With the parish directory? When the cute guy selling the pictures was all, “Oh! You’ll need some for your parents!” And my mom burst into tears and sobbed, “I don’t have any parents anymore!” And my dad’s all, “There’s been a death in the family, we’ll just take the 8×10…”

See, that? Is a perfect example of why we call ourselves the Griswolds.

ANYWAY. Yesterday we drove to the freaking middle of nowhere to look at the car that I am (hopefully) going to buy. I figured “I saw one pass me on the road once and it looked good and the pictures make it look really cute!” was a really bad reason to take out a loan that required both my firstborn and one of my kidneys. I should probably look at the car.

So we get there. And immediately my mom is all, “WE’RE NOT BUYING ANYTHING. WE WANT TO WORK WITH *OUR DEALER.*” Oh, we’re off to a good start. So Flunky Salesperson just kinds of throws the keys at us and goes back to counting the days until he can move out of his parents’ basement.

We get in the car. It turns on. I’m told this is a good thing, but to be perfectly honest I was quite distracted by the auxiliary port that allows me to connect my iPod RIGHT TO THE SPEAKERS THAT’S RIGHT I DON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ADAPTORS ANYMORE.

100,000 mile powertrain warranty blah blah blah I can play Ke$ha now!

Anyway. The test drive went great. I was totally comfortable driving it- it was like driving a van (the feel of which I do love) but without all the pointing and laughing from pedestrians. I was totally in love.

At least until my mom (who is sitting in the backseat with my sister) said, “Okay. I just have to ask Colleen something. Do you itch at all?”

The hell?

Colleen assured her that no, her feet did not itch and it was probably not the car’s fault but rather a mosquito bite.

“Okay! I just didn’t want Kathleen to get an infested car!”

Uh. No. That would be bad.

Things…just kind of went downhill from there. My mom accidentally ripped that sheet off the window. Colleen was dancing in the backseat to some song that came on when I finally figured out how to turn on the radio.

It really got interesting once we got inside, though. My mom kept talking about our dealer’s elderly father. Like, a lot. My dad started off on how we shouldn’t still be paying for Miller Park. And…my mom basically threatened the douchebag finance guy.

(Okay. He deserved it.)

Anyway. The car was lovely. And I really want it. And if God and the angels are still okay with it at 10:30 tomorrow, it will be mine.

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