Soon after Randy and I were married we bought our first car together, replacing Randy's money pit Buick Regal. I LOVED our 1997 Toyota Corolla. Now, almost 15 years later, I tolerate that car for one reason: it's paid for. That reason alone is enough for Randy to overlook the 101 reasons why we need to say good bye to his beloved piece of crap and look for a car that doesn't make us look like we are homeless. (That's actually another tick in Randy's pro column-- the fact that it makes him look homeless. That is not a joke.)
Here is a sampling of the said 101 reasons to get rid of the Corolla:
Reason #100-- It smells like farts. Even Henry says so.
Reason #18-- Thanks to the baking Southwest sun, over the years the paint on the hood has slowly flaked off, exposing that ever so lovely primer gray color. It's super classy.
Reason #27-- You can't open the passenger side front door from the inside. In order to get out, you have to manually roll down the window and then reach your arm over and open the door from the outside. Classic.
Reason #62-- At some point the lock on the trunk stopped working and we couldn't get into it. (That was reason #11 until the lock miraculously began to work again one day.) Before the miracle, in order to get into the trunk, the backseat was ripped off from whatever held it down, causing it to rest slightly forward and making it possible to see the contents of the trunk from inside the car, which Randy claims to have come in handy from time to time. That leads us to...
Reason #63-- Occasionally the kids have to ride in "Daddy's Car." When this happens, Emmy's seat is placed in the back on the passenger's side because the seat belt for the seat behind the driver doesn't work. That means Maren has to sit in the middle, but because Emmy's big bamma car seat takes up the entirety of her seat and then some, we're unable to balance Maren's booster seat on that little hump that makes up the middle seat of every compact car. To compensate, a large object must be placed underneath the left side of Maren's booster seat because that would just be crazy to expect Maren to lean forward (thanks to the busted back seat that now sits at an angle slightly less than 90 degrees) while trying to maintain her balance on her teetering booster seat which sits, off-centered, on that stupid hump.
Reason #3-- In order to start the car you have to first place the wrong key into the ignition and jiggle it around. Only then can you insert the Corolla key and attempt to start the car. If the key won't turn, don't give up. You may have to repeat steps one and two fifty times, but eventually you will be able to fire that bad boy up.
Reason #1-- The driver's side door cannot be opened from the outside. Randy was driving to work one night and a deer ran into the door, causing a massive dent and shattering the handle.
Honestly, I didn't care that much about our crappy car until the day that Randy had to take the van to work and I was stuck with his car. I had to take the girls somewhere and as usual, I was running a tad late. I walked outside and saw the car seats sitting on the garage floor. Eff. I hate running out the door and realizing the car seats are not ready to go. I grabbed Emmy's seat first and began to install it behind the driver's seat and then realized that seat belt didn't work. Grrrr. I got it put in on the other side, threw Emmy in, and then went to put Maren in her seat. Maren's freaking out because of #63. It was then that I realized I needed a book to shove under her seat so she could remain upright during our car ride. Finally the kids are in. I ran around to the front to jump in and the damn door handle was busted. Oh my gosh. Trying to save time, instead of walking to the other side of the car to open the door, I figured I would just reach my arm in through and around the back seat to open the door. I couldn't quite reach. Crap. So I decided to go over the seat. I let all my air out and then pushed my body between the roof of the car and the driver's seat and yay, I opened the door. I'm feeling super proud of myself until I tried to squeeze back the same way I squeezed in and I was stuck. I couldn't get my boobs over the head rest! I was furious. I swear I tried for like 30 seconds to free myself. All the while I'm repositioning my boobs in every way I can imagine, my butt is hanging out the back door while the world is driving by, and Maren is policing my language: "Don't say damn it! Don't say shit!" I finally made it out of there, shut the back door and jumped into the driver's seat with a huge sigh. But it wasn't over. I stuck the key into the ignition and it wouldn't turn. Silly me. I was using the Corolla key when I remembered #3. It was a good day-- it only took me about 5 tries to get the key to turn the engine that time. I closed my eyes for a second to catch my breath (I felt like I just finished a fight... that I totally won) and we were off.
It's time, Randy. It's time.
UPDATE: So I actually wrote this post about a month ago and am just now getting around to posting it. We've since bought a car-- Corolla #2. It's seriously the exact same car, just 10 years newer... and it doesn't smell like farts. Yay!
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