Tuesday, September 7, 2010

You wanna ride or do you want pancakes?


Question: I'm embarrassed about my car. I offer to drive everywhere and no one let's me drive. What should I do?

Answer(s):

What does your grandma's ride look like? Usually the seniors have the sweetest cars with about 80 miles on them. And by sweetest, I meant no dents and low mileage.

Try trading your car in for one of those cars with an entire decal. Then you can say,"Yeah but at least I'm advertising for Pampers and not Metamucil, I mean, it's KINDA funny, right?"

Can you hot wire someone's car at work? Actually, I can't support this, I don't even have enough cash to get myself out of jail. Adventure at your own risk.

Pretend that you inherited the car from someone in the family. "Yeah, I mean Uncle Bob really took an interest in me, so he passed this along. Hey, my next ride is going to be sweeeeeeeet."

Or, if you're me, you can pretend you drive an under cover cop car. See below:



"Hi. Yeah, I'm talking to you (wink, wink)."


"You wanna ride? Where you headed?" 


I said,"Grandma, where are we going since I'm driving you?!"


Hyundai Sonata 2010 steel blue. That's my ride, and I know you're not running to your front door waiting for me to pull into the driveway. The 2011 version is selling at RECORD PACE and that's me quoting numerous auto sites.



My sweet blue heaven/undercover lover is selling to get the remainders off the lot.


dad took a photo with me and my new cop car- don't ask him to e-mail images, new computers really stress him out.


I didn't just fall into this family sedan option (sans family). There's a backstory of my athletic attempt at trying to get to a 4 mile race on a Sunday followed by mad shoe shopping only to be indefinitely postponed because Mrs.RangeRoverMoveOver slammed into the back of my previous sleek 4 wheeler while proofreading a pancake sign and neglecting to STOP.

<breathe>



Mrs. RangeRoverMoveOver was reading a pancake sign. And that was the death of my ride. A sunroof, soft grey leather seats, a hatchback that held the possibilities of too much camping equipment and borrowed snowboards. I mourned and tried to squeeze out a few tears as I tripped on valium for my neck and back. It was mostly impossible because I was too busy daydreaming about mechanical pencils and eating marshmallows. I also thought about making pancakes and leaving them piping hot on the door step of Mrs.RangeRoverMoveOver. 

"Here you go lady, apparently you love yourself a stack of pancakes."

It's like in the movies, where the bully leaves a flaming bag of dog poo on someone's doorstep. Then the owner comes out and angrily stomps on the bag only to get the poo on his shoe. (I don't even think you needed that explanation but the rhyming kept me going.) Nevertheless my steaming pancakes would be in the vain of the bully but with sweet sarcasm and maybe draw some emotion. (and the audience says,"awwww" all at the same time).

In record time my father test drove everything similar in sight. He called me from every dealership dealing with my,"Absolutely not! Who do you think I am? A millllionaaaaare?" comments.

eloise illustrating how i was acting on the phone because i am SO busy and mad at pancake lady.

Five to seven business days later, I had myself a car. A cop'ish' car. Which initially I thought was beneficial in case a cop wants to pull me over. See scenario.

Shortest Car Fake-out Cop Play             by: Amy Porpora

Scene: a road, slightly slick (cause that's cool), breezy winds (wait, can that happen?)

Amy: radio is blaring, 'Life Is A Highway' and she taps her fingers on the steering wheel. She's headed home and is putting the pedal to the metal leaving behind the stresses of work.

Cop inside Cop Car: mumbling to himself,"Hey that car is going a little fast. Oh wait, it must be George from the precinct heading home."

THE END
*note: Life Is A Highway is actually one of my favorite songs.



So back to present day. Which is me, now, writing, as my undercover lover, my blue heaven, fake cop car sits out in the company parking lot. He waits for me with sad eyes as I laugh and make senior citizen jokes:

"Dad, seriously, this car came with oatmeal packets when I bought it."

"Dad, I play this game in my car...when I pass another Hyundai Sonata 2010, I break the demographic profile EVERY time. Usually the driver is over 60!"

"Dad, thanks a lot, you're killing my single lady game. Should I be hitting up bingo halls?"

"Dad, when I said I wanted a sugar daddy, I didn't mean I want to pick up an 80 yr. old diabetic and learn how to fold his walker in my sedan sized trunk."

"Dad, seriously, you just conned me into buying an old person's car. I'll trade you when you get a new one. It just makes sense."

"Dad, if they have an annual picnic for people who own the Hyundai Sonata 2010, everyone there is going to think I drove my grandmother's car for her."


And as my ridiculous jokes sprinkle every phone, dinner, and email conversation-- my dad and I just feel comfort in knowing that pancake lady only got me addicted to valium for 48 hours (I have renewed love for mechanical pencils), and that even though my old black stallion is sitting in a metal yard, not only do I have new material to keep friends laughing but I've got the best damn family sedan for 2010.

1 comment:

  1. This is hilarious fun. Good luck with the new ride, and the new blog. I'm sure you'll do awesome with both, cookie!

    ReplyDelete