Brie: It's What's For Breakfast

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Car Dilemma


I have to buy a car.

Last night I had a dream about it.

Here’s what’s going on:


My Jag, which I leased as a company write-off in a year that I needed the write-off, was my dream car since I was a teenager.

Actually, the Jaguar XJ6 was my dream car, but since they quit making them and moved to the XJ8, the one I got was as close as I could get in 2004..


I leased it the year I was 42. It was a significant year. It was a year of changes. When I turned 42, I wasn’t aware how monumental and auspicious the year would prove to be. It was the year I got my dream car. It was the year I got up the nerve to plan and execute my divorce. It was the Year of The Answer. (Yes, that was yet another obnoxious reference to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – the book, and possibly the radio show, but definitely not the movies.) It was the year I got happy and stayed that way.

The lease on my dream car expires in April. By the end of April I will be giving up my ridiculously expensive, ridiculously large, dream car. If I can find an XJ6 in Jaguar Racing Green with an excellent mechanical record, maybe I’ll get it. Chances are much better that I will buy something much smaller and much less expensive.


The problem is, I have no idea what to get. I don’t even know what kind of car I want. I’ve toyed with the Jaguar XK series – the little convertible. If I can find one that’s about 5 years old, I can afford it.

That one is a bit shiny for my taste. Perhaps one of these, instead:

And that brings me to the dream.

The dream wasn’t so much a dream as it was a nightmare.

First of all, it involved these very tall bankers dressed alike in their dark suits, all of whom were displeased with me. There were at least a dozen of them.

It seems I had been on a buying spree. A car buying spree. I had bought no less than four cars, and I maybe, somehow, might have bought a fifth.

There were apparently some TVs I had bought, too, which makes no sense because despite the fact that I seem to have a TV in every room of my house, I’m not much of a TV watcher. I mean, I turned on the History Channel in the sewing room the other night and it was the first time in the two and a half years that I have lived in this house that I had turned on a TV downstairs. I was given all of the TVs in my house except the flat panels I bought for the living room and Jack’s basement when we moved in. That’s right – I have about 4 cast-off TVs, machines other people don’t want. Go figure. Most of them aren’t even hooked up.

Anyway, back to the cars. I was the owner of a baby-shit yellow Lincoln Continental. I hate Lincolns. My mother has driven one ever since she graduated from green station wagons with genuine imitation wood grain paneling (yes, the ubiquitous Country Squire of our youths) and my grandmother drove a Town Car all of her adult life. I wouldn’t have one if it was given to me.

I also owned a Buick Riviera in this dream. Not a new one, mind you, and definitely not one of the cool classic ones with the bubble in the rear window that made the trunk look like a rudder.

No, in my nightmare, with bankers looking on disapprovingly, I owned one of the ugly boxy 1980s Rivieras with the trunk that angled down a bit. It was white, with red interior. (Why do I remember this crap from my dreams?)

Then there was some sort of sporty something-or-another that was actually kind of nondescript.


And for some reason I had an MR2 that was all tricked out with a Ferrari package. It was smokin’ hot, but apparently I had wrecked it several times and the bankers were a bit hostile about that. I don’t know why. I got it repaired.

Anyway, the bankers were all about me returning all these cars to the various dealers from whom I had bought them, and then I was supposed to get something sensible. I had to return the TVs, too, which were these big, boxy, 1970’s models that were really heavy.

Obviously I’m stressing already over what car to get when my Jag goes back. Maybe I’m stressing over the world going to HD, too. I don’t know about that. I haven’t really given it that much thought. Considering how prominently those old TVs featured in this dream, though maybe I ought to give it some thought.

But the car really is an issue. Jane, my lovely assistant, has pointed me to some nifty little convertibles. There’s a 380zx or something like that she’s really pushing on me.

I just don’t know. I want something fairly good on gas, small, and maneuverable. I will miss the incredible handling of my Jag.

I’m thinking a little red Karmann Ghia might just be the thing…..

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January 7, 2008 - Posted by | Humor | ,

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