Friday, April 14, 2006

 

Existential Friday: Carma

A couple of years ago, we bought a brand new VW Passat. It seemed to be the ideal car for B and me. With its antilock braking system and air bags poised to come at you from every direction in the event of a collision, it seemed like a pretty safe car. And since it was bigger than our old car, an early 1990s Toyota Corrolla, we felt a bit less undersized by the profusion of SUVs and tandem trucks on the highway. And it was under $20,000.

But it also felt luxurious. Clearly it's not a luxury car -- you can get the same engine housed in greater cachet by buying an Audi -- but it felt luxurious to me, and I was determined to "keep it nice." No eating scones while driving! No treating it like a briefcase or a junk drawer!

That resolution lasted a good 6-8 months. Then I realized, "sometimes you just have to throw stuff in your car... and who wants to clean it out every day (or month)?"

And I realized, "a scone would taste so good right now... but who has time to sit around in Rude 'N' Slow's?"

I think scone crumbs are the worst. Like rocks getting ground down to sand, they can get smaller and smaller, and still retain their crumb-like integrity, visibly clinging to surfaces while, like sand, finding every hard-to-clean seam there is.

The carpets looked like the carpet in your house would look if you never took off your boots after traipsing in dirty, slushy, salty snow.

There were footprints on the dashboard above the glove compartment. (B sometimes likes to put up her feet when riding shotgun.)

There were newspapers. Newspapers that had been read but not yet recycled. Newspapers that were brought along to be read in the coffee shop but that got left in the car. Newspapers that were still in their bright blue New York Times doggie bags. Empty bright blue New York Times doggie bags. Stray rubber bands from newspapers. Empty drink cups. Empty plastic drink bottles. Bent straws. Dirty crumpled paper sandwich bags. Napkins, used and new.

You get the idea.

On Thursday, we decided to have the car dealer do a full detail of our car, inside and out. We had to bring it in anyway so they could replace the fuel pump on a manufacturer-recall.

When I picked up the car, it looked almost like new. It shone, it was spotless, the crumbs were gone, the carpets shone like the coat of a dog fresh from the pet groomer. The car looked like it did when we first drove it off the lot. I felt ... new car pride! "Darn, we're going to get this done every few months!" I decided.

That night, with absolutely no warning, our area was briefly pummeled by hailstones. I think the term "golf-ball sized hailstones" is greatly overused -- these were more the size of kumquats. Nevertheless, they were pretty big, they fall at about 50 m.p.h., and the put lots of dings on the car.

Clearly God was telling me something: "Go forth and get some scones!"

Comments:
Sounds like your dogma is getting in the way of your carma. Just "B"
WV: kroccmq: new all rock station in Iraq
WHOA! new WV: poofdt: what happened to my old WV because I waited too long
 
Waaah. That is just so sad. Your pretty car. I understand that you made some comment to R about how nice we are keeping Dad's Volvo (and I wonder if your desire to detail the car had something to do with that), but I also wanted to inform you that sometime during that weekend, someone dinged the left-hand rear door. It's driving R crazy (he wants to get the dent pulled), and he's been mulling over which of our cousins did this to the car at Dad's party. I'm hoping it was a random stranger in a generic parking lot.

---
ltpqvlso - (let-pak-vel-so): the self-checkout at the grocery store.
 
ohhh...that SUCKS. i too recently excavated approximately one million plastic wrapped newspapers from the back of my car and gave it a thorough cleaning. 30 minutes later a pringle-wielding passenger got in, and well, not so clean anymore.

"bwikdxz": be wicked sexy
 
in the hands of another blogger, that hail would be the tears of the gods. or maybe it's the foul balls of the gods? or the snowball fight of the gods? or the golf game of the gods? whatever it is, seems these gods have a pretty sad sense of humor. maybe the spitballs of the gods?

wpk
 
Because of Bozzo's blog--he wrote about his wife's car's back window getting broken by hail--I took a picture the other day of a SUV with a fake golf ball stuck in their back window. It had fake cracks and everything.

Why did I write this? I dunno.

-------
An old, yet appropriate (maybe even in bad taste!) WV I did on MT's blog:

dyrze--(AKA: die, rise) The thing Christians celebrate on Easter, the same day that when approaching starts my Pavlovian response for Cadbury Creme Eggs.
 
BTW, where are you? Haven't seen you at my blog or MT's blog or Sleep Goblin's blog.

Is this another form of blog depression? Or are you one of those crazy people who have a life?
 
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