Get out of my dreams- and my CAR!
After many calls from a very persistent Toyota receptionist, John called "Marcie" back. "She seems nice, and she said that we could turn the Oddyssey lease over to them and get a Highlander without paying all the penalties and stuff," John said.
I couldn't argue with that. I hate that minivan more than anything. It makes me sick. It stands for everything I don't. But at the time Honda had this blowout of all the '04 models and we got a loaded one for a 2 year lease for $325/mo. We couldn't find a new SUV with that kind of monthly payment anywhere, especially one that had a DVD player.
I feel like a horse's ass driving around this big bus carrying only me and a 3 year old. Stupid.
I hate the way it looks. I always said that I'd never drive a minivan, not just because they look a loaf of bread on wheels, but because it's so conformist.
When I pull into the preschool parking lot, it's full of Tyota Siennas, Ford Windstars, and other Honda Oddysseys.
It's difficult to find my minvan in sea of other minvans at the grocery store, the post office, the library, the mall, or any other place in suburbia.
I need something cooler, something that stands out, and more importantly, something that fits into our undersized one-car-garage.
"Well, let's go and have a look-see," I said to John after he talked night and day about shopping for a car now before the lease is up and something else about how it couldn't hurt to look.
So after talking to, let's call him "Jason" (because that's his Toyota salesman name), he pulled up a shiny new Highlander.
Jason popped open the hood and pointed to parts, I couldn't hear what he was saying over my teeth chattering. It was flippin' cold out there and Jack was freezing because John insisted on leaving his hat and mittens in the minivan because "Deb, it's not that cold out."
I didn't give a poop about anything but getting my frozen self and child into a heated building, but Jason kept going on about "saftey features" and "spare tires". Yeah, listen buddy, could you tell us about this stuff inside where it's not snowing?
When he opened the door, everything was covered in Saran Wrap. Oh, come on! You couldn't provide us with a car that wrapped up like a piece of leftover fried chicken?
We put in the carseat and we were ready to go. Jason ran in to Xerox our licenses.
When he came back he sat in the back. Aw, man!
I hate that! I hate testdriving with the salesman. I feel like I'm being tested or something. On top of that, I've John telling me how to drive, like this is my first time and he's some overprotective expert.
I couldn't enjoy myself, I wasn't in familiar territory. Okay, actually I knew Little Italy pretty well, but it's not a place I frequent. The closer you get to downtown Cleveland, the more traffic you hit. How am I suppose to see how this baby runs when I never get into second gear?
Then John drove, like a total retard, I might add.
You see what happens when you can't drive like yourself? You buckle under the pressure and have no idea where you're going, your butt sweats from the plastic wrap, you're being watched by big brother Toyota.
Next time, I want the freshly unwrapped version, and I want some serious alone time with this if I'm seriously going to invest.