The Journal :: Nekkid, Clueless and Feelin' Good


Thursday,
February 16, 2006

The proud new parents of a bouncing Nissan Frontier

Yes, my bodacious Brit bought himself a pickup truck Monday night (I told him this makes him a Redneck Third Class -- he has to get a bass boat or coon dog and a rifle rack to be promoted). He'd actually gone into the dealership thinking that he'd do a test drive, talk to the salesman about possibilities, and that would be it. But I must give Trophy Nissan their props -- the salesman patiently wandered around the lot with Lyndon, going through a huge amount of Frontiers until he found one that met almost all of Lyndon's needs (unfortunately it's silver, which is not the best color for vehicles because other drivers tend not to see it and hit the car -- I told Lyndon I'd have a professional designer paint a big ol' Union Jack on the hood for his birthday).

After they headed off for a test drive, Lyndon told them how much he could spend on a truck (about two thousand less than the total cost of the truck -- he'd already gone into our credit union and got pre-approved for the car loan, so he had a figure in mind). Much to our surprise, the manager made that happen, so a bunch of paperwork was generated and Lyndon became the owner of a silver Nissan Frontier LE. Since he hadn't brought the Jeep, he left the truck at the dealership overnight so that the sticker window could be tinted and the interior detailed. Yesterday, he brought the newly cleaned Jeep and title in to the dealership, turned it over, filled out more paperwork, and drove home in Silverback.

We've now learned that we'll have to swap our parking positions in the garage -- I always park on the right so that Lyndon can judge how far he is from the left wall. However, the entrance to the apartment is on Lyndon's side, and while Silverback is about the same width as the Britmobile (if not narrower -- I had a LOT of room to get into the car this morning), it's about two feet longer, which means that if he pulls in all the way he blocks the door. He's going to get some sort of tennis ball doohickey to hang from the ceiling that will help him judge when he's in the right parked position (we have a concrete ledge at the back of the garage, and he doesn't want to hit it), and I get to start parking next to the door, so we're all happy.

By the way, it's not silly to get Winston Churchill painted on the back of the truck, is it?


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