Bringing Up Baby

I have a new car for the first time in two decades. Some people might not think she’s much. But she’s mine. Her name is Baby, as in “Baby Mine.”

She’s a sweet little thing. She’s kind of like Little Miss, aka Amanda, our little black kitty that zooms around under our feet without knowing she’s liable to cause one of us to trip and fall. We’re both cat people, and our new car looks like a cat getting ready to pounce.

Finding Baby wasn’t easy. I remembered why I hated car shopping as soon as I started. I had trouble finding a dealer who would tell me how much it cost. They wouldn’t give me a price except for per month. Drug dealers are more cooperative.

Not that I have any experience with that.

I found an ad online, printed it out, walked into the dealership (what’s the difference between a “dealer” and a “dealership”, by the way?), handed it to someone and said I want this, but with an automatic transmission. (Not that I like automatics, but Shannon can’t work a manual any more.) Turns out I was talking to the manager, and he said “OK, but it’ll cost $1500 extra”. I told him to make good on it and we would have a deal.

30 minutes later, I was filling out paper work for a car that came equipped with all kinds of stuff I wouldn’t have paid for otherwise.

I tried the cruise control once, but decided Austin freeways are not a good venue for that. The telescoping steering wheel is nice. Once I figured out how to set it, I just left it. I still can’t used to the fact that the only way to unlock the passenger door is with a switch on the inside. Power locks, power windows, but no way to open the passenger door with a key.

And no ashtray. I didn’t know they wouldn’t be included in a high-end package on a low-end car. I never thought to ask.

The CD player (also plays MP3’s), remote control everything, and power everything else that can be powered just remind me to smoke with the windows down. For now, nature is my ashtray.

Some matches are made in heaven. Others are made in car lots. (Not that kind, for those of you with loose moral values. Not that I haven’t been there, but… I’m older, wiser and much less marketable than I used to be. Besides, I have another Baby at home.)

I had to pull over on the way home to figure out how to turn the headlights and windshield wipers on. It had started raining, and I really needed to see where I was going. I figured that out, but couldn’t figure out how to turn the windshield wipers off for several days. Luckily, it kept raining, so I had some time.

To date, she’s been washed more times than she’s had gas put in. Baby doesn’t eat much. It helps her keep her figure.

She has been called “cute” and “classy”. There are still people shocked to know that not only do I have a valid drivers license, but I also know how to drive.

Little do they know that when Baby’s in a mood to run, I let her. I have to watch the foot on the gas pedal, lest she pounce on the old lady in front of me who’s just driving too slow.

Baby looks like a kitten, but she’s really a tigress.

Gotta love her, Baby mine.