I don't talk much about personal stuff on this blog, but I have to preface this story by saying it's been a very tough year for us, financially. I spent all day yesterday and today trying to wrestle a household budget into submission. By five this evening, I was exhausted and somewhat depressed. I pulled the portobello mushrooms from the fridge to start preparing dinner, and realised they were way past their prime. Screw it, we're going out, I announced to my surprised husband.
On the way to Acapulco, where we shared a single meal and one margarita, I came up with a new suggestion for how we could handle our vehicular issues. It amounted to this: we replace Josh's aging, fuel-guzzling truck (which, though paid off, costs us $800 a month to feed) not with a shiny new pickup (which is what he'd love) but with a car cheap enough for Ian to afford when it's time for him to have wheels. He needs enough room to cart a drum kit, which would perhaps satisfy Josh's desire for cargo space, at least in the interim till we're in better financial shape. This suggestion was received with a remarkably open mind, and over the fajitas and margarita, Josh suggested we go to a few car yards on the way home and kick a few tyres.
Well, I absolutely hate buying cars, and I despise car yards, and I was strung out, wrung out, and just not in the mood. But the half a margarita made me say OK, with the proviso that we had to leave immediately if we were attacked by piranha sales people. I suggested a certain dealer on our route home, and within five minutes we'd bought a car.
Well, I'm not saying the sale was finalised in 5 minutes, but we found the car we want, and if they will give us enough of a trade on the truck tomorrow morning, we just might have a deal.