Bastian the Chick Magnet
I emerged from a weekend of car-buying craziness with this sweet little number. It's a 2004 Impreza Outback Sport Wagon, which I bought at a Subaru dealership after more than four absurd hours of negotiation. Although I'm not happy with the dealership, I *am* quite happy with my car. Not only does it have AWD, which is going to rock on hiking trips and my curvy commute, but it's small, gets decent gas mileage, and is reasonably safe.
My nerdy side is still crestfallen about the absence of side airbags, but my lesbian side is stoked.
My DGF saw it for the first time today and definitely approves, though she finds the color "a little childish" (what?!). But she thinks I got a good deal on it, and since she knows more about cars than I do, I was quite pleased.
While I was weighing whether to buy it, I named the car "Bastian." I have never named a car before, and it popped into my mind out of nowhere (was "The Neverending Story" rattling around in my subconscious?). Though I loathe the misogynistic practice of giving vehicles women's names and referring to them as "she," I am perfectly happy to have a male car, because it somehow turns that practice on its head (or does it?). Anyhow, I hope Bastian and I will be buddies for a long time to come.
The best part of my car search, though, was talking on the phone with a private party seller on Saturday about a different car. The conversation proceeded as follows:
BW: Hi. I'm interested in your 2006 Honda Civic. Is that still for sale?
Car Dude (henceforth CD): Yeah, it is.
BW: Oh, great. I just had a couple questions about it.
BW: Does it have a clean title?
BW: Oh, okay. In that case, I'm not interested. But thanks for your time.
CD: I DON'T WANT TO SELL IT TO YOU ANYWAY!!
BW: Um, okay. Bye.
As my DXH said when I told him the story, I didn't know third graders were allowed to own cars!