Sunday, May 22, 2011


Not my license plate, but my name.
My car is 9 years old. When I bought it, it had 42 miles on it. I bought it at a huge discount after a driver's ed program was finished using it. So it was a 'new' car but really not.

The dealership in my hometown has some sort of amazing deal with the high school that it will provide brand-new cars for the students to learn to drive on every summer. If you want to learn about my driver's ed experience, go here and read my diary from that adventure.

The dealership is banking that once the kids learn to drive on these fancy new cars, that their parents will then by them a similar fancy new car with the belief that it is a safe choice since this is the car the kid learned on.

Well, at the end of driver's ed, the dealership sells the cars at a pretty meaty discount because:

a) The new models have already come out.
b) No one wants to buy a car that idiots learned to drive on
c) all of the above.

The correct answer is C. So I bought my car the late summer of 2002. It's been everywhere with me. We are kind of married, my car and I.  And this winter we celebrated a milestone. 100,000 miles. (Really I should have celebrated 100,042 miles) but who's counting.

I was lucky enough to capture the moment on film.

Good luck getting those two minutes of your life back.

Here's the Cliff's Note Version:

If you didn't watch the movie, you missed all the awesome banter between me and Mike. Of course, the word awesome is subjective.

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