This was the week of the test drives.
Monday, out of the blue, I got to try a friend's rental car, zipping around town in a Yaris.
I concluded I could be totally satisfied with that cute, peppy little car.
Then Friday happened.
It was Gem's birthday, so we took her out to dinner and then ended up at her parents' house. The conversation rolled around (heehee) to cars, and I mentioned that I'd tried the Yaris, which was cool, but I've never had the pleasure of driving a beemer. Which is what both of her parents drive.
"Do you want to try mine?" her dad asked.
"Are you serious!?" I asked back.
He handed me the keys, I grabbed Mr. A's hand, we flew out the door and ended up going for a 12 hour joyride to Vegas and back, pushing 110 and escaping the speed traps only because there was a highway patrol convention in Reno so no one was on duty that night. As we later found out.
Ok, rewind.
I wish.
In fact, we went for a 10 minute tour of the neighborhood.
It was nice. Very nice.
The car was quiet but powerful.
The pothole I purposefully, um, sampled produced the subtlest of rattles. (Sorry, Gem's dad!)
I barely grazed the gas pedal before it flew to the horizon, and back.
I think I like that car.
I think I really do.
I think it's time for law school.
