Ooooh, I wrecked one of our cars.
No one was hurt (except the car). There was an Impala that slowed down in front of me, and alas, I crashed into said Impala. The other (uninsured) driver seemed a little shaken, so the paramedics were called as a precaution. Kurt, who barely noticed the actual crash, thought the commotion of the rescue vehicles was divine.
(Now, I don't want you thinking this is a regular thing with me. But I know that if anyone from high school is reading this, they will bring up the little incident that occurred a couple of weeks after my sixteenth birthday, when I ran my mom's car into a brick wall. It was not a huge wreck. I dropped my mom off at the psych hospital where she was a nurse, started to weave through the parking lot toward the exit, suddenly realised I was going to need some good music, began to fiddle with the radio, and the rest of the story tells itself.)
Our Buick came to us through Jeff's grandfather, who died while we were visiting St. Louis two years ago. Jeff's grandfather, Lawrence, was a rock. The Buick, not so much. Although it was extremely easy to scrub melted ice cream out of its interior, and had the added benefit of being huge, it was quirky. Not so quirky that it outweighed its acquisition costs (free), but quirky enough.
For instance, the speedometer would sometimes stop working, especially when the car got hot. Not THAT big of a deal, because if you're in the right lane, you're probably okay. Yes, the air conditioning could be anemic/non-existent (only in the summertime of course), and the heat? Well, sometimes that would stop too. But at least when the heat went out you could usually get it going again by finding a speed bump or rough spot of road, revving the engine, and then hitting the bump just so. In fact, that got to be a regular part of my winter morning routine.
But Kurt loved the Buick. It was his all time favorite car, and it was love at first sight. If I had been thinking ahead, I would have filmed Kurt in the Buick over the last two years so that I could now show you some kind of love montage with Barry Manilow music in the background, but as it is you're just going to have to take my word for it.
I was kind of worried that Kurt would be resistant to a new red car, but, ahem, I think the Buick would be kind of sad to see how fast it was replaced in Kurt's heart (by a red Subaru Forrester and it's sweeeeeet).
Farewell, Buick! You didn't deserve to meet your end outside a Wawa, but no one ever does.