Putting My Foot Down

Day?  I still haven't gone back and counted my sobriety days but I know if I was pregnant I would be overdue.

There she is, my new ride!  No, it's not a cherry red, smokin' hot sports car but I love her. She's my chosen one.

All along the way driving over the mountains to the car dealerships on the other side, I was alternately telling myself to grow up and then sitting there feeling sorry for myself and trying to remember when the last time was that I made a decision for myself. (Oh yeah, I decided to quit drinking 9 months and some days ago. How could I forget that?)

As we neared the top of Hoosier Daddy Pass (not its real name) I had an epiphany.  It wasn't the fact that I wasn't going to get an impractical, totally ego driven hot little car that was pissing me off, it was the fact that I wanted to be the one to make that decision.  So my head told my stubborn, arms crossed, pouty-lipped heart to make another choice and to stick to her guns for once.

"Can you give me a hint of what you're looking for?" the cap'n asked, very tentatively.

Shit! I knew this question was coming.  He'd shot down my hot rod dreams but now he was very gingerly placing the matter back in my llap.  The problem was, I didn't know what I wanted, I wasn't even sure how to figure out what it was I wanted. My brain reverted back to its old survival instinct and started scrambling for what kind of vehicle it thought the cap'n wanted me to want. But then my heart stood up and stomped her feet.

"I don't want a station wagon," I blurted out.

So of course, the only body make of vehicle that seemed to be available in my price range on the one day I went car shopping was, you guessed it,  the mom pants wearing, prolapsed uterus dragging, hemmorhoidal/varicose veins popping, iconic station wagon.

Dealer #1 proudly boasted not one, but three Subaru Outback Station Wagons.

Dealer #2 boasted one Subaru Outback and one Audi family truckster i.e. station wagon.

Dealer #3 boasted the requisite Subaru Outback and a Volkswagon rabbit which is really just a little people's hatchback station wagon.

About this time I'm thinking maybe I should go find a couple of beers to knock back.  That's always been the crucial decision making factor in any of my former life changing decisions.  After my two beers transformed themselves magically, through no power of my own, into two pitchers, I'd be painting racing stripes on that inadequately endowed rascally little Volkswagon rabbit and convincing myself it was the car of my dreams.  It's happened before, just ask my first husband.

My heart, with her arms still crossed, gave me the evil eye.  Never mind. It was just a fleeting thought, I wasn't seriously considering it.

Dealer #4 quickly recognized the dangerous look in my eye when he led me toward my sixth Subaru Outback of the day and quickly changed direction and steered me toward my destiny.

There she was, everything I ever wanted that I didn't know I wanted.

"I'll take it," I told the salesman, before I could change my mind. Before I started worrying that I might be wrong.  That she might be a lemon and I'd have no one to blame but myself.  Before I turned to the cap'n and ask, "What do you think?" putting the decision and any possible fall out such as exploding batteries or leaky valves back in his lap.

And just like that, she was mine.

You know what her best attribute is?

She has heated leather seats, so I still got my "hot ass car"......and they'll sure feel good on those old hemorrhoids.

Vroom! Vroom!