I Wanna Kia!

December 16, 2013 at 12:41 pm | Posted in Around Boston | 2 Comments
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I recently said goodbye to the cursed car (that actually turned out to be a great ride once finally fixed), and bought myself a big girl car.  And yes, I say that with every bit of irony I can muster because, as we all know, a woman shopping for a new car alone is ill-advised, so my dad came to help remove the target from my wallet (while the hubs stayed home with the baby).  Annnyway…

At one of the local car dealerships, as RWFOTB and I waited through the “let-me-talk-to-my-manager” negotiation process, we overheard a curious conversation: A middle-aged woman (with her mother in-tow) was standing firm against a sales guy.  He was trying to convince her of the benefits of the Camry, but she wasn’t having it.

Even these rodents can get a Kia!  Step up your game, lady!

Even these rodents can get a Kia! Step up your game, lady!

“I wanna Kia!” she insisted.  “I don’t want no Camry, I wanna Kia.”

We couldn’t help it – dad and I tried to keep our laughter quiet.  But the woman was adamant.  She would accept no substitute.  And even though the sales guy was trying to be polite, we couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room… we were at a Toyota dealership! 

Yeah.

So we may have remarked, loudly enough to be overheard, “Perhaps she’d have better luck at a Kia dealership.” 

The woman just glared and continued her fight.  The salesman looked sheepishly grateful, before saying: “Well, I don’t have any Kia’s here right now, but perhaps we could consider the Corolla?”

“Yeah, but,” and here dad and I mouthed the phrase we knew was coming next,” I wanna Kia!”

Good luck, lady. 

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The Car Gods are Cruel

September 23, 2010 at 8:44 am | Posted in Around Boston | 6 Comments
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Also known as “Stressed Bride, Dead Chariot Part Tres” 

Is that a lemon I smell?

 

Well, dear reader(s), I’m afraid the car saga continues. Are you tired of hearing about this situation yet? Because I’m sure tired of living it, and I therefore promise this update will be brief (and bullet pointed – ooh la la).
 
Here’s the latest… 

  • Picked up my newly repaired car from the dealership and took it out for a joy ride (read: to run some necessary errands).
  • Parked it temporarily on the street while I went about my business.
  • Returned a few hours later to find that the darn thing died again! Again!! That’s the second time in less than one week that my brand new set of wheels conked out on me.
  • Called Andrew to rescue me.
  • Called the dealership to rhymes-with-witch about it (yes, I let my Bridezilla out) and demand they give me another courtesy vehicle that night (sadly, no “Call Me”-mobile this time).  And I was, as Andrew says, “in a hoof” while I waited two hours for the tow truck.
  • Called my parents, emailed my MOH and my bloggier half to vent my growing frustration.
  • Tow truck jump-started the car so I could drive it to the dealership (and avoid the towing fee).  Andrew followed behind the entire way in case the darn thing died again en route.
  • Arrived at the dealership. The dealership manager asked where the tow truck was.  I said that we were able to jump-start the car.  His response: “Oh, then everything is okay with your car now.”

Ummm, no.  My six-day old car had to be jump-started after it was supposedly fixed – nothing about this situation is “okay,” mister. 
 
And this is the part that’s really unbelievable: last night when Andrew was coming home from class, his car’s check engine light started flashing…  

Gah! 

~Sarah

A Stressed Bride’s New Chariot Bites the Dust

September 20, 2010 at 9:23 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 12 Comments
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I got a super fly new car last week.  I’m talkin’ Bluetooth, iPod docking station, steering wheel controls, intelligent key (which means it never leaves my purse – not to unlock doors, open the trunk, start the car, etc), a sleek spoiler and sporty alloy wheels.  I fell for it immediately.  I couldn’t stop caressing it; I had a bad case of verbal diarrhea; I volunteered to drive everywhere; I was, in a word, obsessed.

Until yesterday, when my car crush turned to pure, unadulterated rage.

The future-hubs and I were in CT for fasting-tastic Yom Kippur.  We planned to head back to Beantown around 10:30 a.m. to tackle some of the innumerable tasks on our wedding to do list, go grocery shopping (shameful admission: we haven’t been to the store in nearly a month), do homework and chores, etc.  The only problem?  My new chariot wouldn’t start.  My BRAND NEW, less-than-five-days-old, hadn’t-even-been-named car was dead.  Deceased.  Pushing up daisies.  It bought the farm.  It kicked the bucket.  It… well, you get the idea. I had a dead chariot on my hands (and in my parents’ driveway).

Andrew and I went through the manual to troubleshoot, to no avail.  I called AAA, which determined it could do nothing to help (though the gentleman who gave us said sad news, Luis, was very compassionate about it – thanks, Luis, for breaking it to me gently).  I called the dealership, I called Nissan Roadside Assistance, I called every affiliated service provider I could think of.  I had a breakdown.  I had another breakdown.  I worried my parents with my irrational and erratic behavior.  I required numerous reassurances and soothing words from Andrew.  I lost my wits.  Again.  I lamented turning in Blue Steel.  I felt sorry for myself.  And hours later (literally hours), I finally got the dealership to agree to tow it on their dime back to Massachusetts, to (eventually) provide me with a courtesy vehicle (though not in time to make it to work today) and fix my brand-spankin’-new car.

But that still left us love birds stuck in the Nutmeg State… what were a stressed bride-to-be and a busy-full-time-worker-plus-part-time-MBA-student to do?

Turn to my everyday heroes, of course.  I’d like to give a shout-out to our Knight in Shining Audi, “Rhymes-With-Father-of-the-Bride,” who graciously hauled Andrew, my sorry butt, and all our baggage (physical and emotional) back to Chez Gerrowski last night, then immediately turned around and drove the two hours (if you’re obeying the speed limit) straight back to CT.  Pops sure came through when it counted – as always!  What a guy!  And to “Sarah’s Mo,” who took a break from saving the world to handle the tow trucker while I was dissolved in a puddle of pity party en route back to Boston.

And as for my car?  Well, this gal has far too much to do to be without a faithful steed – so they’d best be fixin’ her up real pretty and real fast!  Or I may not be able to control my inner ‘zilla!

~Sarah

The Scary Girl on the Third Floor

September 15, 2010 at 9:08 am | Posted in Around Boston | 10 Comments
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As strange as this is for me to say, I think that’s how one of my neighbors describes me. I’m the scary girl on the third floor. I’m someone to watch out for. I frighten people. Or at least this particular person.
 
You see, I just got a new car (huzzah!) which meant that I had to clean out my old car before I turned it in. Apparently junk (particularly in one’s trunk) multiplies when left un-chaperoned, so it took a few trips between my car and Chez Gerrowski to remove all the crap I had accumulated in three years.  

Apparently Tom Cruise played me in this flick...

 

On my last trip to the trunk, one of my newer neighbors pulled up and parked next to me. As she removed grocery bags from her trunk, she saw me pull a samurai sword out of mine. I paused for a second trying to remember how I had come to carry a samurai sword in my Honda, and saw her glance at me, then at the weapon, then at me again, quickly gather the rest of her things and dash into the apartment without looking back. Apparently I looked a little frightening pulling a sword out of my car and pondering it in the middle of the parking lot.  

And I’m okay with that!  

~Sarah  

P.S. For those reader(s) curious as to how I came to possess said samurai sword, it’s the work of my bloggier half’s better half.  Before April and Mike moved, they bequeathed said weapon to Andrew.  He put this little parting gift in my car and apparently forgot to remove it.  Hence, “The Sword in the Civic.”

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