The last car I owned was bought brand new. I consider that purchase to be one of my biggest financial blunders. It was a five year loan, but after a mere two years of paying on it, I hated that car with every fiber in my being. Not only that, but I drove that fucking thing into the ground. By the time the loan was up, I had put 165,000 miles on it.
Shortly after my last payment, my husband said to me, “I’ve been thinking…we should get you a new car. A truck, maybe.”
“I don’t want a new car.” I insisted.
“But you hate your car,” he pressed.
“What I hated about my car was the car payment. I just paid the fucking thing off. Let me enjoy having no payment for the first time in 5 years.”
Two months later, the Gods laughed at me. The transmission and the alternator both bit the dust the very same day. Considering the current mileage on the vehicle and the fact that it was American made, it seemed silly to start pouring money into repairing it now. I called my husband and told him that I would be buying something new to drive after all. He told me to call him after I picked something out so he could come down and sign the papers.
I walked to a dealership a couple of blocks from my house and was accosted instantly by a slimy salesman who referred to himself as ‘Tex.’ I informed Tex that I was looking for a used truck (I didn’t want to have to hold a loan for more than two years) with low mileage, automatic, and on the smaller side as far as trucks go.
Tex asked me, “Are you married or single?”
“Well then. How about we wait until your husband gets here before I show you around?”
“Actually,” I replied, “My husband won’t be joining us unless I find something I like.”
“Generally I like to wait until both the wife and the husband are available before I give my sales pitch.” He gave me an animated wink.
I immediately saw where the conversation was going. Tex thought I was a twit. He looked at me and pictured himself wasting his whole day accompanying me while I test drove countless trucks, bitched that nothing came in pink, narrowed it down to my five favorites, and finally picked one out only to have my husband appear and remind me, “But darling! You don’t know how to drive a stick! And we agreed that you were going to buy an SUV!”
I attempted to convince Tex that I was not a typical woman.
“Sir,” says I, “This past summer my husband and I purchased a new house. Before we did so, I looked at over 70 different properties. Do you want to know how many properties my husband looked at?”
“How many?” He grinned at me like I was a cute little bunny that he was dying to pat on the head.
“One.” I snapped, “The one we’re living in. Now, I don’t really expect you to take me around on a bunch of test drives or anything like that, but could you just point me in the direction of what I’m looking for? Then I’ll go over there and check them out myself.”
“I’ll be glad to!” he said as he shot me another winning smile. “When your husband gets here” he added firmly.
I can’t even LOOK at a truck without my husband here?
Obviously, this was going nowhere. So I headed across the street to another dealership. I walked up the first salesman I saw, told him what I wanted, and followed him to correct section of the lot. I picked out a truck, called my husband, and after we signed the paperwork, the truck was mine.
When we pulled out of the lot, I had a mad urge to drive across the street and show Tex my purchase that I picked out all by myself. But I refrained.
Anyway, the truck I bought came with a cap and I decided that I didn’t want it anymore. So I put an ad up on ebay and attempted to sell it. I honestly have no idea what a truck cap is worth and to be perfectly honest, I don’t really give a good god damn. I was just trying to save myself a trip the junkyard.
My ad simply said, “Truck cap for sale. Pick up only. Best offer gets it!” After that, I posted a few pictures.
This morning, some guy called me up to ask me some questions about my truck cap. We went back and forth for a minute or two. Then he began some long monologue where he explained to me that his truck is a different color but that doesn’t really bother him and he needs it to haul equipment and blah, blah, blah.
If not for the fact that I wanted this guy’s money, I would have said, “Hey asshole! I don’t care if you want to fill this fucking thing up with explosives and suicide bomb a goddamn ‘Mommy and Me’ group! Do you want the cap or not?”
Finally, he asked me, “How much are you charging for it?”
I told him, “Best offer. Make me and offer and I’ll probably take it.”
“Will you have to talk it over with your husband first?”
WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THIS ASK MY HUSBAND BULLSHIT?
Seriously, I am getting sick of it. Am I the only woman who has the ability to make a financial decision without my big, strong, male babysitter by my side holding my hand?
“Look,” I said to the dude on the phone, “The truck cap is mine. If I want to sell it for a banana cream pie and a handful of shiny beads, that’s my prerogative. My husband has nothing to do with it. He’s not the boss of me.”
Anyway, I sold the truck cap, saved myself a trip the dump, and I am currently making a friendship bracelet with all of my brand new shiny beads.
Just kidding. The dude on the phone paid me cash.
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