I found the car I want in the color I want. I found it a couple weeks ago. But being the self-denial, frugal person I am, I figured it was in the best interest of my family to look for something less perfect, more just "okay" that I'd "make do" with. I mean it's a car for Pete's Sake.
Hubby knew better and made it his mission to find me THE car. To make me happy. Which if you're a self-denial kinda person, just makes you dig in to "do the right thing." The outcome of that is dragging out and confusing the whole process.
Our story starts almost two weeks ago, when sweet hubby was continuing his search for a car for me (I'd long since thrown in the towel.) He found a car, actually here in town (we are not averse to searching the country looking for the right car) and called to set up a test drive with Car #1. The setting up of the test drive took more than just a phone call, but was set to go for a week ago this past Sunday. Sunday, as hubby was leaving, he picked up a voice mail that the car was not available for a test drive. Strike one.
After contacting several people over several days, it was discovered that the car was on rental and the renter wanted the car a little longer. Cut to Wednesday, when attempt #2 was made to surprise me with the car by replacing it with the car I was driving and putting Car #1 in its place. Another call by the agency to hubby that it wouldn't be possible to test drive because they didn't know where the car was. Let's just say hubby was not happy and when he was done the people on the other end of the line weren't having a great day either. Strike two.
Hubby was heading out of town on Thursday, but managed to track down yet another car (it should be noted that the agency was only capable, apparently, of telling what couldn't be done and did little to help rectify the problems or search out another car.) Hubby set up a test drive for Car #2 and headed out of town.
Here we are now at just this past Sunday, hubby and daughter head out to "pick up donuts" and I make our usual big breakfast. They are gone A LONG TIME. No biggie, they eventually come home bearing donuts from a store five minutes away. Curious, but whatever, I have a Cream Filled Donut, so I'm good. We're finishing breakfast and hubby has me play the "choose a hand" game. Huh? Okay, fine. I play and on my second choice, he passes me a key. I look at the key and I think I get it. I mean I can read the key ring. I want to get it. But do I dare hope? Normal people might excitedly rush to the garage. That would not be me - I question, ask, try to make sense, in general suck the excitement right out and then I head out to the garage to find the above parked. Woohoo. . .it's perfect. Wait. Not.
The car has several dents, like big ones, that weren't mentioned. Okay, they'll be fixed and painted one way or the other. However, the listed miles were not so much what they should have been, and not just the test-drive-kind-of miles. But like a lot. Like 17,000 miles off. This is a deal breaker. So I get to test drive it back to the agency and we walk away. Strike three.
I'm so thrilled that hubby tried so hard to surprise me and so sad that it didn't work out the way he wanted it to; that so many times it didn't work out. I hurt more for his disappointment, than the loss of the car.
The search continues.