Sunday, 9 September 2007
Baby You Can Drive My Car. Maybe.
Holy shit, I've bought the little grey sportscar!! It was done with more than a small amount of help from my husband whose negotiating skills were sorely put to the test on Friday when we gave up and retreated, beaten by an intransigent salesman and my big gob. But what do you know, today OH sneaked off into his study whilst I was out of ear-shot (or more importantly, mouth-shot), phoned the car dealers and had another go. And guess what? The guy we tried to deal with before was out of the office, and could someone else help? So husband made an offer that could easily have been refused, but wasn't. Result! My hero! I am now the proud owner of one metallic charcoal grey MG covertible, including total valet and detailing, one year's free warranty and a full tank of petrol. I cannot believe it! After all my dithering, we've actually been and gone and done it. Fantastic. I am SO excited.
Husband's face was a picture when he delivered the news. "You will let me drive it, won't you?" he asked, after I'd released him from a bear hug and he'd had chance to breathe again.
"Of course I will" said I, once I'd put him down and stopped screaming with glee, "any time you like, darling."
That is, when you can find where I've hidden the keys, of course.
P.S. The old bat sitting in the car isn't really me - apparently one minute she was at home doing her ironing and the next she was sitting in my new car. Didn't even have time to re-do her lippy or brush her hair properly. Who the hell is she? Bizarre.
Posted by Swearing Mother at 02:07