The parents of the housemate I am closest with have gone to Rwanda for just over a week. Neither housemate nor her brother drive so I have been graciously lent "the beater" for the time being. It is a lesson in being prideful. The rust I can handle. The rubber from the wipers that trails when wiping? No big deal. No radio, ok. Doors that don't work, the obvious age (1991?), the dirt....hey, it drives right? But, the lack of a muffler. Now I'm not an especially prideful person but do I look poor in that car. The old girl likes to call attention to herself as she revs up the hills.
Being in the car with others makes it a fun adventure. Being in the car alone and my self-conscious, materialistic side comes out just a bit. This afternoon was amazing though. Housemate's grandparents treated us to the Mandarin (what is that place?) for lunch so we all (Housemate, Housemate's Brother, grandma & granpa with me driving) pile into the tin can and roar off to eat. Some of the best conversation I have had in months. I miss grandparents.
1 comment:
sounds like fun! look at all the joy that beater has brought you. maybe you should get an old beater yourself (and some grandparents to go with it)
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