Why We Don’t Have Nice Things

Last week Steve and I drove all the way to Rochester New York to pick up our new Subaru. One might ask why drive to Rochester to get a new car when there are plenty of new cars in Boston? Well, Steve’s dad is a car dealer in Ohio and got us a deal on a car we couldn’t pass up. Hence the six hour drive to Rochester (a half way point) and the six hour drive back to Boston. There is nothing better than new-car-smell, just not our new car smell.

On the way to Rochester Steve asked me to drive. Steve never asks me to drive unless he feels really tired or crappy so I knew he wasn’t feeling too hot. After a short nap he said he felt better and drove the rest of the way there. We exchanged cars and stopped in at my Aunt and Uncle’s house for some dinner. That’s when Steve started to look even more sick. I drove our new car out of Rochester and towards Boston without incident until we were forty-five minutes out from Albany. That was when Steve sat bolt up right in the passenger seat and screamed “Pull Over!” At first I was worried something was wrong with the car that I had missed but it turned out to be much worse. For the last thirty minuets Steve had been trying not to throw-up and had finally lost the battle. As we slowed on the shoulder of the highway Steve groped the unfamiliar door trying to get out of the car as fast as he could. He didn’t make it. He ended up throwing up all over the inside of the passenger door. He got out threw up some more, then some more, then some more. When all was said and done he had gotten rid of everything he had eaten that day and then some.

Steve feels better now and we have a new car that doesn’t have new car smell so much as the smell of old stale puke smell. This is why we don’t have nice things.