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I tell people that the car was half off and I thought they meant the price and not the car. :)Steven Clary said:Dennis and Julie Minton said:A common remark we get is "where is the rest of it?"... Also, EVERYONE asks, "where do you plug it in?".
I always say that I fell behind in the payments and the repo man took half of the car.
The latest comment I received was rather startling, if confusing. The guy was either questioning my sanity, or my manhood, or both. It was nothing of the benign sort that I usually get. Rather malicious, I'd say, regardless of which version is correct. My 20-year-old daughter and I were pulling from a parking lot onto a busy street just as a very large truck with a visible gap between the top of its tires and the bottom of its body was pulling in. It was very noisy and my attention was riveted to the incessant stream of GM-soon-to-be-collectibles whizzing by without giving even a whimsical thought to the idea of letting me merge with them. So, what they guy yelled was a little garbled, either in his mouth, my mind, or both. Probably both.
I have a PG-13 auditory filter, so what I thought he said was, "Get a real car! You're Nuts!!" Not so, said my daughter, a veteran of somewhat more earthy movies than I get on the Disney channel. "He said," she said, "That's not a real car! Get some nuts!!" I can't imagine this redneck reject from a pirated copy of Road Warrior suggesting that the driver of a black and blue Smart with license plates "BREUZR" was missing accessory organs that in his case substitute for a brain, but either way, I'm pretty sure he wasn't with the CMAA (Cashew Marketing Association of America).
It was made all better though - sort of - when I was finally able to pull into traffic and come to a stop at a traffic signal next to a smiling young lady in her own low-slung red convertible. "You're so CUTE!" she squealed. Just as a broad smile was forming on my face, hers faded. "Not YOU! The CAR!" She said it with an urgency suggesting that her dignity would suffer irreparable injury were I to proceed through the intersection without a very clear understanding that my car was cute and I either never was, or if I ever was, it was well before she was born. We were two miles from home when my daughter started laughing, and we were just pulling into the driveway as the laughter dwindled to a snickering whimper punctuated with snorts.
I'm actually looking forward to my next "Are you sure it isn't electric?," never mind that I'm dispensing liquid into BREUZR from a pump with GASOLINE emblazoned all over it.
When I was so anxiously waiting for my smart to arrive, I was asked if it was coming UPS.
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