After my first year in College, my
parents finally concluded that being a taxi for their recluse daughter was
not thrilling or awesome.
They finally got fed up with my calls
to come home and be antisocial off campus, so they decided to find me
a car to end the vicious cycle of taxi driving. My mom was all for
the idea of me driving myself, but, surprisingly, my dad went from being
extremely excited to I-don't-want-to-car-hunt-ever.
My dad started “car searching” a
few weeks before my Sophomore year started in August.
Four months later I moved home for a month long break. I -finally- had the time to constantly pester
my dad... and I was determined to get him motivated to hunt down the vehicle that was destined to be mine no matter what.
So I waited. And waited. And waited.
I should mention I have absolutely no
patience for anything. My maximum patience is thirty seconds of watching food in the microwave and only because I know I'll be consuming it when the timer dings. It is there, I see it, therefore it's fine. But I can't wait for things. Especially when I can't see or control the situation.
In order to cope, my brain makes up for patience by contemplating thousands of ways to make the thing happen faster.
So I started searching websites myself. Ebay, Craigslist, obscure websites that were most likely scams, car forums... I even went so far as to pass page 2 of Google. Overall, I found about 200+ links of various cars
that were for sale and I became very satisfied with myself and my success. The only problem was... my dad didn't own a
Facebook and his email was hidden.
This instantly made my mom the
holy messenger of all things Car.
At first she wholeheartedly accepted
her new title and gladly passed along the details to my dad, who was still resistant to the constant badgering. However, once she realized that I had found every car for sale in existence, her willingness to pass along the information dwindled. She became more and more resentful that I had nothing better to do than to search for vehicles.
I pestered everyone to the point where my reclusiveness became an annoyance. My mom constantly made up excuses to drag me out of the house. The public setting was not much of a reliever, but it did bring about the conclusion that this obsession made me even more unfit for social interaction.
My wish to obtain a car became my sole desire in life. Every noun in my vocabulary was replaced with some vehicular term. I was convinced that if I did not have a car soon that I WOULD IMPLODE.
A few days after Christmas my mom
called me to explain that my dad was finally going out to look at a BMW
car he found with his friend. I was ecstatic! I paraded around the
house in triumph and danced to the music in my head.
Three hours later, where the only
entertainment that could calm my excitement was youtube, my mother texts me:
"Hey so there were a lot of problems with
the car, so we're heading home now. C ya.”
My disappointment was evident. I had
been promised a car before August and here I was in December, car-less
and now completely void of any hope and happiness. I crawled to my
couch and turned on Doctor Who to lift my spirits.
A little while later my dad, mom, and
my dad's friend all drive up in separate cars. My dad in his beat
up old van, my mom in her flashy convertible, and my dad's friend in
a beat up old BMW. BMW? BMW?? I got really excited at the prospect that there was a car like the car my dad went to look at just sitting there in my driveway.
And then I couldn't drive it for 4 more
months.
.
.
.
To be continued
