Guys, a couple of weeks ago, I met two quite elderly men. They were nice and polite and generally likable, but from the moment we shook hands, I knew we wouldn’t be friends. Because becoming friends with them would interfere with my fiery anger at them for maiming Chompers.
See Chompers fit four dogs (and me) in his cargo area.
See Chompers after two trucks hit him.
So now, Chompers has gone off to a three-week rehab facility I like to call the Rusty Wallis Body Shop, and I’m stuck driving my rental which, as you may have guessed from the title of my post, is a Jetta. The below stock image looks strangely like the one parked in my driveway right now.
I have to be honest, my immediate thought pulling into my driveway 10 minutes after claiming the keys was “This car is like Ben Affleck – not really what you want to see and it just doesn’t seem that sharp, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
And I may have texted my friend who drives a Jetta out of intense frustration the first day I drove it. I was careful not to offend too much – though he’s pretty used to my bitchiness by now – because I know that Jetta owners are fairly defensive of their car-babies. For whatever reason.
However, I have to admit that I can kind-of-maybe-sorta see the appeal of driving the things after three more days. The secret to a Jetta is, I’ve decided, finding a way to make it zoom off exactly when you want. This is also the problem, as my first morning on the way to school, I would push down on the gas like I was in my car and be hellas surprised when it just started barely creeping forward. Wtf?
You see, a Honda is what I’ve decided to call a bad-driving enabler. They make their cars so fucking easy to drive, it’s unreal. You, like, barely rest your foot on the gas pedal, and it’s like, “We go now? We go now!” Zoom. Essentially, Hondas are my family dogs anytime you go near their leashes.
Jettas, on the other hand, are more like Christina Aguilera. You have to rub them the right way.
Yeah, I wish I had come up with a less-dirty sounding analogy, too. But that one fit the best. I tried a race horse and not so much. Anyhoooooo…
I guess I have three weeks to get really good at figuring out what Dad informs me is this mythical “turbo” thing that Jettas have going on with them before I get my precious baby (and my deductible, betches!) back. Hopefully, I’ll be able to figure it out enough to pretend I’m in one of those action movies where people speed off really fast…